Death's Day

In a world shrouded by poverty and superstition, Jason and Annabel are outcasts, marked by fate and burdened by secrets. Jason, a young man fighting to protect his brothers from their cruel uncle, discovers a terrifying power within him when pushed to the brink. Annabel, a girl with eyes of two different colors, endures unspeakable torment under the guise of religious salvation. Both are haunted by a shadowless figure, a silent observer of their pain and a harbinger of untold destinies. As their lives intertwine, they face a grim choice: succumb to the darkness that surrounds them, or embrace the power within to reclaim their shattered lives. But what price freedom, when the very forces that grant it demand a chilling debt?

Death's Day

In a world shrouded by poverty and superstition, Jason and Annabel are outcasts, marked by fate and burdened by secrets. Jason, a young man fighting to protect his brothers from their cruel uncle, discovers a terrifying power within him when pushed to the brink. Annabel, a girl with eyes of two different colors, endures unspeakable torment under the guise of religious salvation. Both are haunted by a shadowless figure, a silent observer of their pain and a harbinger of untold destinies. As their lives intertwine, they face a grim choice: succumb to the darkness that surrounds them, or embrace the power within to reclaim their shattered lives. But what price freedom, when the very forces that grant it demand a chilling debt?

The chill of the night deepened as Jason, his shoulders hunched, made his way through the familiar, unlit streets of Daltom. The air, thick with the scent of damp earth and distant woodsmoke, offered little comfort. His stomach growled, a dull ache that had become a constant companion, but it was the gnawing worry for his brothers that truly consumed him.

He passed the darkened windows of the general store, then the creaking sign of the old tavern, each landmark a stark reminder of Daltom's unyielding grip. The thought of his uncle, Mr. Walton, waiting back at their cramped room, sent a fresh wave of resentment through him. He quickened his pace, the tattered soles of his shoes scuffing against the gravel.

Suddenly, a flicker of movement at the edge of his vision. He paused, breath catching in his throat. There, standing silently by the ancient oak, was a figure. It was indistinct, a mere silhouette, yet Jason's gaze locked onto it with a chilling certainty. It cast no shadow.