The horse slowed before the first broken archway, its hooves digging into the dust as if refusing to trespass the rider noticed but said nothing he simply watched the village ahead a cluster of silent homes leaning toward one another, as if sharing secrets he was never meant to hear the horse snorted pulling back. "You feel it" the voice murmured….the same voice who was silent the whole ride here "Even if you pretend not to" He dismounted boots sinking into sand that hadn't known footsteps in years.
He stepped into the first alley a clay bowl sat by a doorway, filled with dust where grain once lay, a door hung half-open held by a single hinge ,a woven cloth drifted on a breeze, though the air was still, Nothing attacked him but nothing welcomed him either and somehow that was a bad thing , the horse remained behind stamping the ground It would not enter it kept its head low ears flat as if staring at something the man could not see. "It remembers this place" the voice said but was ignored by the man ,Inside the first house, he found a chair turned on its side, a table set for a meal that never came Plates,Clay cups.
A candle burned down to nothing no dust had gathered on them someone had meant to return , he knelt and lifted a small wooden toy ,a horse, carved with care, one wheel missing it looks like the horse who was waiting outside. His thumb brushed over its back. Warm ,he dropped it and a floorboard moaned not under his foot but somewhere deeper in the house nut the man did not follow it he just left.
Back on the street he heard something it wasn't wind or voice or anything like that it was Something like laughter but it was broken ,he turned around just to be greeted by shadows and windows "They're calling you" the voice whispered. "They don't know my name" he answered. "They don't need it they know what you abandoned." His jaw tightened but he still kept walking.
The village square emerged suddenly raw and exposed a stone well waited at its center. Around it, symbols had been burned into the ground circles, lines, spirals carved in haste. Some looked like warnings, he knelt the markings were scorched into the earth, not painted it was obvious that fire had touched this place, behind him something shifted. Movement a shape Tall Thin and dark Gone before his eyes could adjust , the horse screamed As if begging him to turn back he stood up calmly, gaze steady, the scream faded and the Silence returned, he stepped toward the well and blackness stared back not water or a stone in sight , he leaned closer. "Do you remember?" the inner voice asked. "No." "Liar." For a heartbeat, something flickered in his chest it wasn't grief but Something colder, and with that he turned away from the well.
He entered another house who was smaller and he noticed a bed of straw and a cracked basin. And carved into the wall above the hearth: STAY Below it, deeper etched with trembling hands: STAY AND FACE IT A mirror leaned against the wall, fractured through the center , his reflection looked back nearly the same, slightly off.,the eyes ,the shape of the mouth just like he was being remembered, not seen. Behind him footsteps, they were slow and Dragging,he immediately turned only to see an empty doorway but retreating, across the light of the threshold it was a shadow Watching and Waiting. "He's here" the voice said. Almost… pleased. The rider spoke at last. "Let it watch" he wasn't afraid of the shadow after all he didn't seem dangerous but something about him made the man feel an emotion for the very first time since he woke up in that desert "regret" perhaps?, but he still didn't manage to put his finger around whatever he was regretting.
Back in the open street, he stood still the village was awake now, a toy rolled across the dust though there was no wind, he passed a wall with names scratched into stone, faded and countless he tried to read them but it only made his head ache terribly, perhaps they were the names of people he had known or folks who had known him?.
an open doorway. Inside, symbols drawn in ash across the floor , circles crossed by lines. The same as by the well a test perhaps?. "He wants you to follow" the voice whispered. "He thinks I fear him" he answered. "Do you? the man paused a little not knowing if it was fear he was feeling or something worse so once again he chose silence as an answer.
Far behind, the horse whinnied once more, a sound strangled by distance it could not cross into this place it had no power here. The rider reached the end of the street. A single door stood before him. The wood was untouched by rot, untouched by time. Someone had written across it in coal: WE HID BUT WE COULD NOT RUN The handle turned in his hand without resistance. Inside darkness, Cold. And something breathing, slow and patient, just beyond sight. He did not draw a weapon. He stepped forward. "Why do you hunt what will never face you?" the voice asked. He whispered, "Because it believes I won't."