Chapter3

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...are you prepared?

The clouds gather slowly, like shadows collecting in the night. Reaching out, each finger clawing at the faint hope that is whispered by the moon, the storm is coming… For a time it was silent, save for their imprisoned breaths released unwillingly, forcing their escape from the tight lips of the children of the Forgotten Isle. A rolling sound is heard, though no child is sure whether it is from the ephemeral giants above them, or from the dark places that have no name,

but a tooth-filled smile. The night is growling.

The orphaned moonlight that was abducted by the night, escapes. Her outrage for having been bound expresses itself in a chaotic wail against the darkness. Again and again the light screams into the storm, a primal, proclamation of power. The night itself bows, for a moment, with each dichotic chorus of prideful scorn and futile hope.

The tooth-filled smile grows bigger.

It raises its head and twists its neck back and forth in preparation. The shiver runs down it’s body and lets loose a tumbling reply. Rain beats down upon the isle, a steady oppressive presence like a secret memory of guilt. Again she screams, she stomps her feet leaving a wake of fire and ash on the isle.

The tooth-filled smile growls and bristles with more rain.

In their hovels, their homes, their hiding places the children echo faintly what they see but are unnoticed by. Reflections of the same struggle that they fled from and now see at it’s basest.

The toothfilled-smile is hungry for the light…

Now it is up to you: It has been storming like this for what feels like a week, although time has lost all meaning for you. All built shelters have proven useless, and are falling apart. There are forms in the darkness, looking for shelter and food…