Step, step, step… The sound of footsteps echoed, boots striking the muddy ground in a steady rhythm.
A dark figure, unrecognizable in the night, moved through the shadowy forest. The wind rustled through the leaves above, and the sounds of animals drifted in and out — some distant, others uncomfortably close.
A person?
A man?
A woman?
A child?
Even that was impossible to tell.
The figure wore dark clothing, a hood pulled over their face, hiding any identifiable features. They moved through the night-soaked woods, where even a few meters ahead was lost to shadow.
Thump, thump… step, step. After several minutes of walking, the figure came upon a slightly worn path. They looked left, then right, then left and right again, before pulling out a silver coin. That was the only thing clearly visible — no details of the coin could be made out. The person tossed it into the air, and it spun several times. Watching it as it slowly lost momentum and began to fall, the figure moved one foot forward.
The coin hit the figure's black boot and bounced to the right. The figure turned and walked in that direction, passing over the coin without bending to retrieve it. They simply flicked their hand in a strange motion, as if catching it mid-air — and the coin appeared in their palm.
Continuing down the path, the hooting of owls added a chilling tone to the atmosphere. The figure tugged their hood tighter, as if that could offer protection or distance from the unsettling sounds. Still, they kept walking — neither slowing nor quickening their pace.
After dozens of minutes, the density of the trees began to thin, and the darkness lessened.
The sight of the sky was breathtaking — dozens of white stars glimmered against the black expanse, with seven moons spread across different points.
The figure pressed forward, eventually spotting a massive, ancient castle in the distance. Unlike any structure of its era, it stood entirely black — pitch black, like tar. Yet its silhouette remained distinct against the sky.
As they approached, more details emerged — separate towers with pointed roofs that jutted toward the heavens like stone daggers. A black gate, like the rest of the castle, seemed to absorb the light around it.
It was then the figure realized something that sent a cold sweat running down their back, making their hair stand on end.
What had just occurred — or more precisely, what had stopped occurring — was the sound. The wind that had rustled the leaves, the animals and birds that had filled the night with uneasy noises… everything had ceased.
All of it.
Complete and utter silence. A silence more terrifying than the most dreadful of sounds, suddenly broken by a caw. Kraaw, krak, kraa…
Kraa… A deep, resonant, melodic, piercing cawing.
The figure looked up at the ravens perched on the gate.
Suddenly, as if struck by a full-body cramp, they convulsed involuntarily, almost curling in on themselves.
Kroo. The figure, cloaked in black, would've sworn a raven — not necessarily the one being watched — had spoken. The words were unclear, but they were words, unmistakably spoken by a raven.
…
At that moment, Aiden woke, drenched in cold sweat. His eyes darted around the room in a panic, but he saw nothing unusual — only the soft light of night spilling through the slightly parted curtains.
He tried to speak, to call out, but couldn't. There was nothing on his mouth, yet no sound would come out.
His mouth was dry. Reaching for the glass on the shelf beside the bed, he took a few refreshing sips and moistened his lips.
Sleep crept over him again. His eyes, heavy and drawn, closed without resistance.
He lay down and fell back asleep.