The first thing that broke was the silence.
A distant snap echoed across the village.
Not loud.
But unnatural.
A lantern outside flickered once—then went out.
Then another.
Within seconds, the glow of the street dimmed into a scattered pattern of fading lights.
Something was wrong.
And the village felt it.
Doors creaked open.
People stepped outside, confused.
"…What's happening?"
No one had an answer.
Avrel noticed it first.
He stood at his window, eyes fixed outward.
The air had changed.
Not visually at first—but perceptibly.
He could feel it.
That same low hum from the night before… but now it was constant.
Present.
Growing.
"…It's already here," he murmured.
His fingers rested against the wooden frame.
Then...
Jingle.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Not behind him this time.
Outside.
A scream cut through the street.
Short.
Sudden.
Then silence.
A man had stepped forward from his home—and simply vanished mid-step.
Not fallen.
Not struck.
Gone.
The ground where he stood remained intact.
Metildore's eyes snapped toward the source immediately.
He was already moving.
"…No time."
Another distortion followed.
This one visible.
The air in the middle of the street rippled like water struck by an unseen force.
Buildings nearby began to warp at their edges.
Straight lines bent.
Corners misaligned.
Reality itself seemed unsure of its structure.
People started running.
Panic spread instantly.
"Get back inside!"
"Stay together!"
But the warnings came too late.
A second wave of distortion swept through the street....
And a section of a house collapsed inward without breaking apart.
It didn't explode.
It didn't fall.
It simply… ceased to exist in fragments.
Avrel stepped away from the window.
"…That's not natural."
He moved.
Fast.
Out of his home and into the street.
The village had changed completely in a matter of moments.
Chaos had replaced routine.
Voices overlapped.
Footsteps scattered.
Fear had taken hold.
Avrel walked through it all calmly.
Too calmly.
As if something about this was expected.
Metildore appeared at the far end of the street.
His posture had changed.
Gone was the relaxed, storytelling presence.
In its place was something precise.
Alert.
Focused.
He scanned the environment quickly.
"…Veil instability… no… this is worse."
His eyes shifted.
And then he saw it.
At the center of the village.
A distortion forming.
Not just moving....
expanding.
Avrel had reached closer to it now.
The hum was louder here.
The air felt dense.
Pressurized.
He stopped.
"…So it's not random."
The distortion pulsed.
And in that pulse....
a jingle echoed faintly.
Avrel's expression tightened slightly.
"…You again."
The ground beneath his feet trembled.
Not from impact.
From imbalance.
The space ahead of him began to collapse inward slowly.
Not violently.
Inevitably.
Avrel took a step back.
Then another.
But the distortion responded.
It shifted toward him.
Deliberate.
Targeted.
Metildore moved immediately.
"Avrel!"
His voice cut through the chaos.
Avrel turned his head slightly.
Just enough.
Metildore didn't wait, He broke into a sprint.
Cutting across unstable ground, avoiding areas where space had already begun to fold.
He moved with precision that didn't match his appearance.
Years of experience.
Or something more.
The distortion surged again.
The space between Avrel and the collapsing area began shrinking.
Avrel was too close.
Metildore's eyes sharpened.
"…Now."
In a single motion, he reached Avrel.
Grabbed his arm.
And pulled.
Hard.
The moment Avrel's foot left the ground.....
the space he had been standing in folded inward violently.
If he had remained...
he would have vanished.
Metildore didn't stop moving.
He repositioned immediately, pulling Avrel away from the unstable center of the village.
"Stay behind me."
His voice was firm.
Not loud.
Absolute.
Avrel didn't resist.
But he was watching.
Not the destruction.
Not the panic.
The source.
Behind them, the distortion expanded further.
Buildings began to collapse.....not by force, but by absence.
Parts of the village simply stopped existing in sections.
People fled in all directions.
Some never made it past the shifting ground.
The village was unraveling.
Metildore slowed slightly once they reached a marginally stable zone.
"…This isn't an accident."
Avrel looked up at him.
"…You knew."
Metildore didn't answer immediately.
Then, quietly—
"Yes."
A pause.
His grip on Avrel's arm remained firm.
"…And it's still here."
The distortion pulsed once more.
Stronger.
Closer.
The jingle followed immediately after.
Clear now.
Undeniable.
Metildore's expression changed.
Recognition.
"…So it chose you."
Avrel's eyes shifted slightly.
Full of fear.
Lost for words.
A faint pause.
"…What is it."
The distortion surged again.
This time directly toward them.
Metildore reacted instantly.
He pulled Avrel backward, repositioning himself between the boy and the advancing collapse.
The space ahead warped aggressively.
Too fast to outrun.
Too close to ignore.
Metildore exhaled slowly.
Then stepped forward.
Just slightly.
"…Not today."
The distortion halted.
Not completely.
But enough.
As if something on the other side had paused.
Observing.
Weighing.
Metildore didn't move.
Neither did Avrel.
For a brief moment....
everything stilled.
The destruction.
The chaos.
The distortion.
All held in a fragile balance.
Then Metildore spoke quietly.
"…We're leaving."
He turned.
And guided Avrel away from the collapsing center of the village.
Not running blindly.
But retreating with purpose.
Steady.
Controlled.
Behind them...
the village resumed falling apart.
Not all at once.
But piece by piece.
As if something was carefully dismantling it.
Watching them go.
The distortion surged again.
But this time.....something was different.
The air didn't just ripple.
It pressed inward.
Hard.
Metildore's eyes narrowed.
"…It's accelerating."
The center of the village collapsed further, swallowing structures whole.
There was no more safe ground.
Only choices.
Metildore turned slightly toward Avrel.
"…Listen carefully."
Avrel met his gaze.
"…You won't survive here. Not this. Not now."
The distortion pulsed again—closer.
Louder.
Metildore reached into his cloak and retrieved a small object....aged, sealed, and faintly resonant.
He placed it into Avrel's hand.
"…Keep this."
Avrel looked at it.
"…What is this?"
Metildore didn't answer immediately.
"…Something you'll understand when the time comes."
The ground fractured.
The distortion pressed closer.
Metildore inhaled slowly.
"…There's no other way."
He placed both hands on Avrel's shoulders.
"…You're leaving."
Avrel shook his head slightly.
"…I'm not leaving you here."
Metildore's expression softened—just slightly.
"…You don't have that choice child. "
Avrel grunted then replied sharply
"...I'm not a Child"
Metildore let out a laugh then patt him on his head
"...Thats good, for what lies before you would wear down even the strongest of men"
Metildore stepped back.
Raised one hand.
"....it must be this way young one, become he who can trample the void, then and only then shall you have the liberty of choice"
The object in Avrel's grasp resonated.
A gateway began to form behind him.
"…This shall take you somewhere safe for the time being, become he who is not afraid of fear."
Avrel reached forward
"…Old man!"
But the distance widened instantly.
Metildore stepped into the distortion.
Facing it.
"…Never forget young one, Live."
The gateway flared.
Avrel was pulled backward violently.
The world fragmented.
And then....
silence.
The gateway sealed.
Metildore remained behind.
Facing the distortion alone.
"....Ah I forgot to tell him my name, oh well. He Smiled frantically, I think he'll figure it out, he's smarter than I was anyway"
The final surge struck.
And Metildore did not retreat.