A Saxhleel Story: prologue
The night was warm, and a light breeze rustled through the branches. The moons shone bright in the night sky. The torches around the village crackled. It was (almost) a night like any other in the marshes, but something was amiss, something not quite right. If you weren't paying attention, you would not have even noticed it, but It was quiet. It was as if a deathly silence fell over the swamp, that not even the frogs song could be heard. When the moons had fallen beneath the horizon and the torches were but embers. That was when the shadows, red eyes burning like fire, emerged. She and methodically thry moved into the village. No sound. The villagers who stood watch, half asleep from the long night, were the first to fall. Quick, uttering no screams. Then outside the sleeping huts, the shadows stalked, and into the homes they slinked. People were pulled from beds, and those who resisted were beaten or killed on the spot, but still no cries could be heard. When all was said and done the demons in the night dragged their victims back out into the swamp. Soon the spell would end, and so would the silence. The typical noise returned. Frogs sang and insects buzzed, yet nothing remained here but a dead and abandoned village in the marsh, and not a trace of what had taken place in the dark of the night.