The group of strong men walked with purpose through the quiet village paths, their conversation light yet filled with anticipation. The crimson hues of the unnaturally long sunset painted their surroundings, casting everything in a warm, surreal glow.
"What do you think it is?" one of them asked, his tone carrying a mix of curiosity and excitement. "The thing the Chief wants us to bring for the festival?"
Another man, taller and broader than the rest, scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Must be something unforgettable. The Chief wouldn''t make it this important otherwise."
"Unforgettable, eh?" chuckled an older man, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "I remember the festival twenty years ago. Didn''t have all this fancy setup or these necklaces." He tapped the red pendant around his neck, causing it to sway slightly. "Just a bonfire and some storytelling back then. Still magical, though."
"You''re lucky you can remember that," said another, a wiry man with sharp features. "I was at the one forty years ago. Things were simpler, and quieter. But this…" He gestured at the vibrant glow of the village center in the distance. "This feels… bigger."
The group nodded in agreement, their anticipation palpable. The necklaces around their necks seemed to thrum faintly as if feeding off their excitement.
"Feels like I''m a boy again," the tall man said, grinning. "Ready for a festival that''s been building up for decades. This one''s gonna be the one we''ll all remember."
As they approached the Chief''s house, a strange scent wafted through the air, faint but distinct. It was oddly familiar, though none of them could place it. They sniffed at the air curiously, exchanging puzzled glances.
"Smells… strange," said the wiry man, his nose wrinkling.
"Can''t figure it out," replied another. "Maybe something from the healer''s supplies? She always has odd-smelling stuff."
"Could be," the older man said dismissively. "Come on, let''s not waste time."
They rounded the corner to the back of the Chief''s house, where they found several large items covered with cloth. For a moment, they hesitated, unsure which item was the one they were supposed to retrieve.
"Let''s check under these," suggested the tall man, stepping forward.
Pulling off the cover from the largest item, they revealed a strange contraption. It was a mix of wood and metal, intricately assembled but with a purpose none of them could immediately discern.
"What in the world…?" the older man muttered, crouching to get a closer look.
The wiry man whistled low. "Looks fancy. Never seen anything like it."
"Must be for the festival," the tall man said confidently. "The Chief''s got something special planned, that''s for sure."
They admired the contraption for a moment longer before one of them noticed a pile of fireworks nearby. Unlike the ornate device, the fireworks were plain, almost haphazardly stored.
"Not much to look at compared to that thing," the wiry man remarked, pointing to the fireworks. "Doesn''t matter, though. The Chief said it''s important."
As they moved to pick up the items, one of them noticed something odd—a bloodstain on the cloth that had covered the contraption. He held it up for the others to see.
"Blood?" he asked, frowning.
"Maybe it''s the healer''s or carpenter''s doing," one of them joked with a sly grin. "You know, their lady troubles."
For a moment, the others were confused, until he emphasized, "The blood, you fools!"
That sent the group into fits of laughter, their voices echoing in the otherwise quiet surroundings. The man holding the cloth dropped it, shaking his head as he chuckled.
"You''re a piece of work, you know that?" the older man said, wiping his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah," the wiry man replied with a grin. "But seriously, where are the healer and the carpenter?"
"They''re probably just late," the tall man said dismissively. "Let''s not delay the festival any further."
Together, they hefted the contraption and fireworks, their strength making light work of the load. As they began the walk back to the village center, their conversation shifted to another topic.
"Poor guy, though," one of them said, breaking the silence.
"Who?" asked the older man.
"The one looking after the son of the last Blessed by Red. What a burden to bear."
"Hah, he''s got it better than most," another chimed in. "His wife''s a rare find. He should count himself lucky."
"Still he must surely have it hard raising another man''s child. Especially the temporary successor for the blessing..."
Their banter continued as they made their way to the festival, their voices growing fainter with each step.
Unbeknownst to them, Zayn had been watching from the roof of a nearby hut, his body tense with effort. He had somehow managed to carry the dead bodies of the stepfather and the sisters up there, concealing them from view. His chest rose and fell as he observed the men leave with the Chief''s items.Stolen story; please report.
He waited until they were far enough away before moving. Slowly, he slid down from the roof, his movements stiff but determined. Once on the ground, he glanced in the direction of the village center, his face set in grim resolve.
"No turning back now."
With a deep breath, Zayn steeled himself and followed the men toward the festival, the weight of the Story pressing heavily on his shoulders.
A short while later...
The men reached the village square, their heavy footsteps drawing the attention of the gathered crowd. Gasps rippled through the villagers as they saw the unfamiliar contraption and the bundles of fireworks the men carried. Whispers of awe and curiosity spread, and the excitement that had been bubbling all day swelled into a palpable hum.
The Chief’s face lit up as he saw the items, his smile broad but not without a flicker of concern when he noticed the absence of the carpenter and the healer. Still, he stepped forward to greet the men, clasping his hands together in thanks.
“You’ve done well bringing these here,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “But where are the healer and the carpenter?”
The men exchanged uneasy glances before the wiry one spoke up. “We didn’t see them, Chief. But we found blood on the covering.” He gestured to the discarded cloth. “We think… maybe they hurt themselves working on this thing. It looks complicated enough to do some damage.”
“Yeah,” added the tall man. “They probably went to deal with it before coming back.”
The Chief nodded slowly, his expression betraying no emotion, though his mind churned. He knew their theory didn’t align with the truth, but there was no sense in alarming the crowd now. “That could be it,” he said neutrally, turning his attention to the items they had brought.
He inspected the contraption first, running his hands over its surface. It was flawless—precisely what he had envisioned, even more so than he’d dared to hope. The carpenter had clearly outdone herself. He felt a small surge of pride for her craftsmanship, though it was quickly tempered by a gnawing unease.
Then he turned to the fireworks. His brows furrowed as he examined them more closely. They were... wrong. The design was markedly different from the specifications he had given. The colors were correct, a mix of red and orange, but the patterns and construction were haphazard, as though they had been made in haste.
“The healer wouldn’t take this lightly,” he murmured to himself. He couldn’t fathom why the fireworks were so far off the mark. Something felt… missing. He reached out, intending to examine them further, but a loud groan from the crowd interrupted him.
“Ugh, when is this festival going to start?” a boy’s voice complained.
The Chief turned toward the sound, spotting a teenager being reprimanded by an elder for his impatience. Laughter bubbled in the Chief’s throat, and he let it spill out, his voice light and teasing.
“The youth these days,” he said with a chuckle. “Always so restless. But the boy is right—we’ve kept you waiting long enough!”
Unbeknownst to the Chief, standing just behind the boy was Zayn, his eyes sharp as he observed the scene. He smirked to himself, his carefully placed comment earlier having successfully baited the boy into his outburst. The distraction had worked perfectly.
The Chief straightened, his voice booming as he addressed the villagers. “People of the Red Flame! Tonight, we celebrate our unity, our strength, and our eternal bond with the fire that grants us life. Let the Red Flame bless us with prosperity and guide us to greatness!”
The crowd cheered, their voices rising into the night as the Chief raised his arms, signaling the men to begin. They moved to the contraption, which had already been loaded with the modified fireworks, and lit the fuses using the bonfire behind the Chief.
The first rocket soared into the night sky, leaving a trail of sparks behind it. Moments later, it exploded in a shower of red and orange light, eliciting gasps and cheers from the villagers. Firework after firework followed, painting the darkened sky with brilliant bursts of fiery color.
To the villagers, this was something the likes of dreams, things that they wouldn''t ever believe to be real. Watching the fireworks explode in the sky ignited feelings of awe as it looked like stars exploding.
To them it was beautiful. To them even if this was the only thing that happened at the festival, they would be happy.
The Chief stood at the center of the square, arms outstretched, a triumphant smile on his face as the village erupted in celebration. But his expression shifted as the last firework burst, leaving the sky momentarily dark.
His smile faltered. His arms dropped. His eyes widened in horror as he stared at the now-empty sky.
Zayn, who had been watching intently, felt a pang of confusion. He had planned this out as best as he could. Everything had seemed so calculated in his mind. Yet, as he watched the Chief''s reaction, he couldn’t help but question if he had underestimated something far greater at play.
When Zayn first stumbled across the fireworks in the healer’s crate, his mind had immediately leapt to opportunity. Could this be a way to disrupt the Chief’s plan? He’d opened the box with cautious optimism and was pleasantly surprised by what he found.
Zayn wasn’t exactly an expert in everything, but he had spent a great deal of his life absorbed in the study of Empirical Sciences. Among them was a dabbling in chemistry—though far less than his understanding of machines, thanks to the enthusiasm of a particularly eccentric teacher. Still, the basics stuck with him, and they were enough to make sense of what he saw.
The fireworks crafted under the Chief’s instructions had initially struck Zayn as strange. As he dissected one, he noticed an abundance of materials considered highly explosive—far beyond what was necessary for ordinary fireworks. Some of these chemicals weren’t even remotely related to pyrotechnics. At the time, he’d chalked it up to the Chief’s intention of spreading the mysterious substance. The added explosive power would have ensured maximum dispersal.
But then Zayn turned his attention to the healer’s version. He had expected something similar—perhaps a less refined but equally ominous mix. Instead, what he found was startlingly ordinary: a perfectly normal blend of the standard powders used for fireworks. It puzzled him. The differences between the two sets of fireworks were so stark that it felt almost deliberate, as though the healer had purposefully rejected the Chief’s approach.
Still, Zayn didn’t dwell on her reasoning for long. He had a plan to set in motion.
Working quickly, he swapped out the Chief’s fireworks for the healer’s. He didn’t have time to meticulously rewrap them, so he did the best he could, hoping the hasty work wouldn’t arouse suspicion. As for the Chief’s original fireworks, Zayn stashed them on the same roof where he’d hidden the bodies, ensuring they were out of reach.
And now here he was, watching from the crowd as his plan unfolded—or so he thought.
Zayn had expected many outcomes: anger, frustration, confusion. But the look on the Chief’s face was none of those. Instead, it was terror—raw, unfiltered fear that seemed to grip the man like an iron vice.
“What the…?” Zayn muttered under his breath, his heart racing.
Before he could piece it together, a sound split the night. It wasn’t the crackle of fireworks or the cheers of the villagers. It was deep, resonant, and impossibly loud.
It was a yawn.
Zayn’s blood ran cold as the sound reverberated through the square. It was unnaturally loud, the kind of sound that seemed to echo inside the bones. Yet, what truly sent chills down his spine was that no one else seemed to notice. The villagers carried on, oblivious, as though the sound didn’t exist.
The Chief staggered backward, clutching the glowing necklace around his neck, his hands trembling. The amulet’s red light flared, pulsing erratically, as though struggling to contain some unseen force.
The ground beneath their feet began to tremble, a subtle vibration that grew stronger with each passing second.