It has been seven years since the sun last shone on our lands.
At first, we thought it was a joke. A punishment, perhaps, but one we never believed would last. We mocked the great witch of Norrelia, the cityof the Dark Elves, never imagining that what we did would bring the full weight of her wrath down on us.
The first year, we survived. We ate through our stores, rationing, though we knew deep down that the supplies wouldn't last. In the second year, we burned through our coin, sending out the young ones to forage, to find something, anything, from neighboring villages. But the land had turned barren. The crops failed, animals withered away, and the cold—always the cold—threatened to consume us all.
We had to survive. So, we did what we had to.
Banditry at first, then... cannibalism. We convinced ourselves it was necessary. That it was survival. That's how it started. Now, three years later, no one dared approach our village. Once called the Village of Fertile Lands, it was now known only as the Village of Cannibals.
Then, one day, she came.
A little girl—no older than ten or eleven—skipped into the middle of our village, humming a light, cheerful tune. It should've seemed wrong, but she looked... normal. The same darkness that had swallowed the world for years now swallowed her, but she didn't care. She seemed utterly unaffected.
At first, no one moved. We were too confused to act. But my hunger—no, it was a craving now, an insatiable need—gnawed at me. Without thinking, my legs moved. I couldn't stop.
I moved toward her, swift and silent, like a shadow.
But before I could reach her, someone else lunged.
He was faster, but she... she was something else. With terrifying grace, she twisted around his grasp and moved with eerie speed. It was as if she was always one step ahead of us, always playing a game we didn't even know the rules to.
"Hello, Tom," she said sweetly, like a child greeting an old friend. But there was something about the way she said it that made the air grow colder, made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
We all stopped. Every single one of us. The ones who had circled her like animals. We couldn't move. Our eyes were locked on her—this girl who didn't belong here.
"Hello, everyone," she said with a soft, innocent smile. "Do you all miss the sun?" Her voice was light, mocking, but her eyes—those eyes—they burned into us with a strange, unholy knowing. "It's so dark in here, isn't it?" she giggled, like the thought of darkness was some sort of joke to her.
A chill ran through me. This was no ordinary girl.
I took another step forward, my legs feeling heavy. But it wasn't just fatigue. It was as if the earth itself was pressing down on me, pushing me into the dirt. My feet sank, as though the ground was alive, and I couldn't move.
"Darian," she called out, her voice no longer playful. It was sharp, demanding. "Don't be rude. Please, stop trying to play tag."
Her words hit me like a slap. She... she knew my name. How did she know? I tried to move again, to push myself, but it was like my limbs had turned to stone. I struggled, but the weight increased with every second, dragging me deeper into the ground.
The others, too, were frozen. Their eyes locked on her. Some of them tried to take a step forward, but it was the same for them. They couldn't move.
The girl giggled again, but this time it was hollow, an empty sound that echoed in the stillness of the village. "Do you want the sun back?" she asked casually, like it was a simple thing. Like it was an offer. But there was a darkness in her voice, a threat buried beneath the innocent tone.
The silence stretched out, thick and oppressive. I could almost feel the weight of the air pressing down on us. My heart pounded in my chest. We all thought the same thing—Is this really happening? Can we even trust what we're seeing?
"Okay, then I'll just leave," she said, as if our silence bored her.
"Wait!" The elder's voice cracked through the tension, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and hope. "Can you really do it?"
The girl's smile widened. It was no longer sweet. It was wicked, sharp. "Sure," she said, like she was answering a question about the weather. "But one of you will have to die first."
Her words hung in the air, cold and sharp as steel.
I could feel the blood drain from my face. The elder's face was pale, his eyes wide with terror. I couldn't take my eyes off her, couldn't move, couldn't think. It was as if the world had stopped, and the only thing that mattered now was this girl who was toying with us.
Her smile turned darker, almost predatory. And as she giggled again, the sound chilled my bones.
She knew. She knew she had us all.