THE VILLAGE THAT DIES EVERY MIDNIGHT

The Morning That Lied

Elias woke with his hand around a knife.

For several seconds, he didn't move.

His chest rose and fell beneath the thin blanket, each breath shallow and sharp. His fingers were locked around the wooden handle so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

Darkness filled the room.

No screams.

No fire.

No blood.

He slowly lifted his head.

The small window beside his bed was open. Cold morning air slipped through the gap in the shutters, carrying the smell of wet earth and chimney smoke.

Bellgrave was alive.

Elias stared at the window.

Then at the door.

Then back at the window.

His heart began pounding.

"No..."

He threw the blanket aside and rushed outside.

The village was exactly as it had been that morning.

Children ran through the narrow streets. Women carried baskets toward the market. Men stood outside their homes discussing the weather and the condition of the roads.

A man laughed somewhere near the well.

Someone was chopping wood.

A dog barked.

Normal.

Too normal.

Elias stood frozen in the middle of the street.

Yesterday—if yesterday had even existed—those same streets had been covered in blood.

He remembered everything.

The bell.

Thirteen strikes.

The darkness that crawled through the village.

The creatures that moved between the houses.

The screams.

His mother's face.

Her hand slipping from his.

He remembered running toward her.

He remembered being too late.

And he remembered the moment the darkness swallowed him.

Elias looked down at his hands.

They were clean.

He touched his chest.

No wound.

No blood.

Nothing.

A voice came from behind him.

"Elias?"

He spun around.

His mother stood in the doorway.

Alive.

Mara.

She wore the same faded brown dress she had worn yesterday. Her dark hair was tied loosely behind her head, and she carried a basket filled with bread.

She frowned at him.

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

Elias couldn't breathe.

He crossed the distance between them in three steps and pulled her into his arms.

Mara gasped.

"Elias!"

He didn't let go.

He buried his face against her shoulder.

She was warm.

Her heart was beating.

Alive.

Alive.

His eyes burned.

"You're here."

Mara pushed him back slightly.

"Of course I'm here."

He stared at her.

"You don't remember?"

"Remember what?"

"Last night."

She gave him a confused look.

"We went to sleep."

"No."

"Elias..."

"We didn't."

Mara's expression softened.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

Elias stepped away.

"No."

But his voice cracked.

Mara studied him carefully.

"You did."

He looked past her toward the village.

People continued with their morning.

Nobody was screaming.

Nobody was running.

Nobody was looking toward the church.

Elias suddenly felt more frightened than he had been during the massacre.

Because if the village had been destroyed and somehow restored, then something had happened that should not have been possible.

And if everyone had forgotten...

Why hadn't he?

A bell rang in the distance.

Once.

Elias flinched violently.

Mara noticed.

"Just the church bell."

Elias looked toward the tower.

The old stone church stood at the highest point of Bellgrave, its black roof wet from the previous night's rain.

The bell had been silent since morning.

Elias stared at it.

He remembered the sound.

Thirteen times.

Not twelve.

Thirteen.

The final strike had felt different.

As if something had answered.

He turned back to his mother.

"Stay inside today."

Mara raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Don't go anywhere."

"Elias, I have work to do."

"I'll do it."

"You?"

"Yes."

She almost smiled.

"Since when do you volunteer?"

"Since today."

Mara looked at him for a long moment.

Then she touched his forehead.

"You aren't sick."

"I'm not."

"You are definitely strange."

Elias stepped forward and lowered his voice.

"Mother, promise me you won't leave the house after sunset."

Her smile disappeared.

"Why?"

"I just need you to trust me."

Mara sighed.

"I trust you. But you're frightening me."

"I'm sorry."

She studied his face.

Finally, she nodded.

"Fine. I'll stay home."

Elias exhaled.

For the first time since waking, he felt a small amount of relief.

He would save her.

Whatever had happened last night, he would stop it from happening again.

He had a full day.

That was all he needed.

One day.

By noon, Elias had discovered something terrifying.

Nobody remembered.

Not the baker.

Not the blacksmith.

Not the children.

Not the old men sitting outside the tavern.

Not even Father Aldren.

Elias questioned them carefully.

He didn't tell them everything.

At first, he asked simple questions.

"Did anything strange happen last night?"

"No."

"Did you hear the church bell?"

"Of course."

"How many times?"

Father Aldren frowned.

"Twelve."

Elias stared at him.

"Twelve?"

The priest nodded.

"Midnight."

"You're certain?"

Father Aldren gave him a suspicious look.

"Do you think I cannot count?"

Elias walked away.

His stomach tightened.

Thirteen.

He had heard thirteen.

He knew it.

He could still hear the final strike inside his skull.

The sound had been deeper than the others.

Longer.

Almost human.

He found a quiet corner behind the tavern and leaned against the stone wall.

He closed his eyes.

Think.

Something had happened.

Something had reset the village.

But why him?

Why could he remember?

His mother had died.

Then the morning had returned.

Perhaps the answer was connected to the church.

Perhaps the bell had caused it.

He pushed away from the wall.

He needed to investigate.

But before he could move, he heard footsteps.

Elias turned.

A girl stood at the end of the alley.

She was watching him.

She looked about his age, perhaps nineteen or twenty. Dark hair fell loosely around her shoulders, and a long black coat covered most of her body despite the mild afternoon weather.

She wasn't dressed like the villagers.

More importantly, she wasn't acting like one.

She wasn't smiling.

She wasn't confused.

She was simply staring at him.

Elias immediately became alert.

"Can I help you?"

The girl didn't answer.

Instead, she asked:

"How many times?"

Elias frowned.

"What?"

"How many times have you died?"

His blood went cold.

The girl turned and walked away.

Elias followed.

"Wait."

She kept walking.

"Hey!"

She disappeared around a corner.

Elias ran after her.

The alley was empty.

He looked left.

Nothing.

Right.

Nothing.

Then he noticed something scratched into the stone wall.

A symbol.

A circle divided by three crooked lines.

He touched it.

The moment his fingers made contact, a sharp pain shot through his head.

He stumbled backward.

Images flashed through his mind.

The village burning.

His mother screaming.

The church bell.

A forest covered in black mist.

A girl standing beneath the church tower.

Then—

Elias saw himself.

Older.

Bloodied.

Holding a sword he had never seen before.

Behind him stood the same girl.

And they were surrounded by hundreds of dead bodies.

Elias ripped his hand away.

The vision vanished.

He fell against the wall.

"What the hell..."

He stared at his fingers.

They were trembling.

A voice whispered behind him.

"You shouldn't touch that."

Elias spun around.

The girl was standing there.

He hadn't heard her return.

He immediately reached for the knife at his waist.

"Who are you?"

She looked at the knife.

Then at him.

"You still carry that?"

Elias froze.

"What did you say?"

She stepped closer.

"You always carry a knife after the first death."

"First death?"

She didn't answer.

Elias tightened his grip.

"Who are you?"

The girl looked toward the church.

"My name is Lyra."

"Why do you know me?"

"I know more about you than you know about yourself."

"That's not an answer."

"No."

She looked back at him.

"It isn't."

Elias took another step.

"If you know what happened last night, tell me."

Lyra's expression changed.

For the first time, he saw something in her eyes.

Fear.

Not fear of him.

Fear of what she was about to say.

"You shouldn't remember."

"Well, I do."

"That's the problem."

Elias stared at her.

"What happened to Bellgrave?"

Lyra looked toward the village.

"Nothing happened to Bellgrave."

She paused.

"Not yet."

A chill ran down his spine.

"Then what happened to me?"

Lyra's voice became quieter.

"You died."

Elias swallowed.

"I know."

"No."

She shook her head.

"You don't understand."

She stepped closer.

"You died before."

"Yesterday."

"Before yesterday."

Elias stared at her.

"That doesn't make sense."

"I know."

"How many times?"

Lyra didn't answer.

"How many times have I died?"

She looked directly into his eyes.

"Enough."

Elias felt anger rising.

"Stop speaking in riddles."

"Then ask the right question."

"What is the right question?"

Lyra's eyes moved toward the church tower.

"When will you die again?"

A cold silence settled between them.

The church bell remained still.

Elias looked at it.

Then back at Lyra.

"What happens at midnight?"

Lyra's face became pale.

"The same thing that happened last night."

"And everyone forgets?"

"Everyone except those who shouldn't remember."

Elias stared at her.

"Why do I remember?"

Lyra's expression hardened.

"That's what we're going to find out."

The rest of the afternoon disappeared quickly.

Elias watched the sun crawl toward the horizon.

He didn't tell his mother about Lyra.

He didn't trust her yet.

He barely trusted himself.

Instead, he prepared.

He sharpened his knife.

Filled two water containers.

Collected food.

Checked every window.

Then he moved the heavy wooden table against the front door.

Mara watched from across the room.

"What exactly are you expecting?"

Elias looked at her.

"Trouble."

"What kind?"

"I don't know."

She sighed.

"You've been like this all day."

"I know."

"You're scaring me."

Elias walked toward her.

"I'm trying to protect you."

"From what?"

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

How could he explain that she had already died?

That he'd watched something tear through the village?

That tonight might happen again?

He couldn't.

So he simply said:

"Trust me."

Mara reached up and touched his cheek.

"I do."

For a moment, Elias almost broke down.

He had never realized how fragile life was until he watched it disappear.

He hugged her.

This time, he held her longer.

Outside, the sun disappeared behind the mountains.

Darkness spread across Bellgrave.

One house at a time, lamps appeared.

The village became quieter.

Elias stood beside the window.

His knife rested against his thigh.

He watched the church.

Nothing moved.

The tower looked like a black skeleton against the night sky.

Then—

A sound.

Dong.

Elias froze.

Mara looked up.

The church bell had moved.

Dong.

His pulse accelerated.

"No."

Dong.

Three.

Four.

Five.

The sound grew deeper with every strike.

Mara came toward him.

"Elias?"

He held up one hand.

"Stay back."

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

His memories returned like a flood.

Fire.

Screaming.

Blood.

The creatures.

His mother's death.

Nine.

Ten.

Eleven.

Elias grabbed his mother's hand.

"Don't leave me."

She stared at him, terrified now.

"What is happening?"

Twelve.

Silence.

Elias stopped breathing.

The entire village seemed to hold its breath.

Then the thirteenth bell rang.

Dong.

Every candle in Bellgrave went out.

At once.

Mara screamed.

Something moved outside.

Elias stepped in front of her.

His knife came free.

The darkness beyond the window began to move.

Not like a person.

Like smoke.

Like hundreds of shadows crawling across the ground.

"Elias..."

"I've got you."

A scratching sound came from the front door.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Three scratches.

Then silence.

Elias's heart hammered.

He remembered this.

The door had opened last time.

Something had entered.

His mother had screamed.

He had failed to protect her.

Not tonight.

He tightened his grip on the knife.

The door began to shake.

Once.

Twice.

Then—

A voice came from outside.

"Elias."

He went completely still.

The voice was his own.

His blood turned cold.

Mara grabbed his arm.

"What was that?"

Elias didn't answer.

The door shook again.

And from somewhere beyond the darkness, Lyra's voice suddenly screamed:

"ELIAS! DON'T OPEN THE DOOR!"

His eyes widened.

He looked at Mara.

Then at the door.

The scratching began again.

But this time, there were more hands.

Many more.

Elias raised his knife.

Whatever happened next, he would not run.

He had already died once.

He wasn't going to die the same way again.