Author Note: This is my first true story attempt, sorry if somethings don't make sense!
Warning: Descriptions of gore and/or sensitive topics.
The fields should have been loud at dawn.
Crickets, birds, the low murmur of farmers greeting the day—Tan had grown up with those sounds fixed into his brain. But this particular morning, the fields lay silent beneath a gray sky, the wheat bending as if afraid to stand upright.
Tan paused at the edge of the farmland, hoe resting against his muscular shoulder.
Something was wrong.
The earth smelled rotten.
Behind him, the sunless village of Alder stood still like a scared animal. Mud-brick homes sagged under their own weight, roofs patched with straw and a shred of faith.
The village was poor, forgotten by the kingdom until tax season was nearing.
Tan exhaled slowly and stepped forward.
The soil crunched beneath his worn boots—too dry, despite the rain two nights ago. He knelt and pressed his fingers into the poor dirt.
His skin went cold as ice from barely touching the dirt—then he felt what he could only describe as a heartbeat from the ground itself.
A bell tolled from the village center.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
This wasn't a normal alarm—the bell only ever struck three times if someone died...