On that quiet night, everything seemed perfect in the small village of Eldara, nestled at the foot of the pine-covered mountains. A gentle breeze whispered through the trees, and the silver moonlight reflected softly off the rooftops of the wooden cottages, casting a calm, almost magical glow. Children slept peacefully, elders shared old tales with their grandchildren, and soon, the whole village had drifted into deep, serene slumber.
But peace never lasts long in a land ruled by secrets.
At exactly midnight, something strange began to stir. The ground trembled—barely at first, like the distant steps of something massive walking beneath the earth. Then, slowly, the tremors grew stronger. Walls began to creak, and doors rattled in their hinges.
One by one, the villagers awoke, exchanging confused and uneasy glances. Fear crept into their eyes before they could even understand what was happening.
Suddenly—
The forest animals began to scream.
Wolves howled madly in the distance. Birds burst from their nests in panic. The village dogs barked frantically, as if trying to warn their human companions of something invisible. Even the cattle and horses kicked and bucked wildly inside their stables, desperately trying to flee from a danger only they could sense.
Then... the sound came.
It wasn't thunder.
It wasn't wind.
It was a roar—a deep, monstrous roar—blending with twisted, blood-chilling screams that belonged to no creature known to man. It echoed from the dark woods, growing louder with each breath, as if the forest itself was announcing a coming storm.
An old man, his face pale and drawn, whispered with trembling lips:
"These are no earthquakes... those are footsteps. And they're coming for us."