Sunset stains the village red, mingling with the shadows and blurring the harsh outlines of the foothills, wrapping them in shadow, hiding them.
Gradually the light fades, the gloom spreading in great slow tides, consuming building after building, swallowing the lonely streets yard-by-yard, boiling from the dark beneath the world.
It comes to reclaim the little township it had torn from the arms of life and light seven hundred years before. It had suckled the village, nurtured it, filled the streets with a darkness so inimical to life that not a single living thing could bear it. It had made the village its child, and every night as the light fled it crept out and made certain its beloved still lived there.
It will defend this empty, broken place forever. The village belongs to the darkness. It has become the darkness.
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