“Beauty is a mask that often hides decay.”
Tucked high in the mist-shrouded peaks of the Eryndell range, Revellia is a town of haunting beauty. Perched along terraced cliffs, it overlooks a glittering emerald lake, its waters so clear they reflect the jagged mountains like a perfect mirror. Elegant stone bridges arch between narrow streets, connecting the quaint stone buildings with their slate roofs and flower-filled balconies. By all appearances, Revellia is a picturesque haven—a place where poets once sought inspiration and travelers marveled at its serene charm.
Yet, no visitors walk its streets now.
For the past three weeks, an unnatural stillness has settled over the town. The air feels heavy, as though something unseen is watching from the shadows. Livestock have been found dead in their pens, eyes wide with terror. Crops wither overnight, their leaves blackened and brittle by dawn. Worst of all, several townsfolk have vanished without a trace, their homes left untouched as if they simply ceased to exist.
Whispers of a curse have spread like wildfire through the surrounding regions. Some claim the mountains themselves have turned against Revellia. Others say the town is haunted by the vengeful dead—an ancient wrong finally coming to collect its due. The Empire, of course, dismisses such superstitions, yet even seasoned patrols hesitate to remain there after dusk.
The people of Revellia remain—those too stubborn or too desperate to leave—but they no longer gather in the town square after nightfall. Lanterns burn in every window, warding off the encroaching dark. And in hushed tones, they wonder:
What truly happened three weeks ago?
Something changed, and whatever it was… it has not finished with them yet.
Credits
Art by thomazdias32 DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/thomazdias32/art/wheat-fields-949596840