The village thrived under the gentle rhythm of the seasons, untouched by the tumultuous changes that swept through distant kingdoms. Cobblestone paths wound through modest timber and stone cottages, their thatched roofs dotted with moss and wildflowers. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys as villagers prepared hearty stews and freshly baked bread to ward off the crisp forest air.

Life in Elysian Village was simple but fulfilling. Farmers rose with the sun, tending to fields of barley and wheat, while shepherds led their flocks to graze on the lush meadows beyond the village's edge. The blacksmith’s forge rang with the steady rhythm of hammer on anvil, crafting tools for work and the occasional blade for protection against the untamed wilderness.

In the village square stood a centuries-old chapel, its bell tolling softly each morning to call the faithful to prayer. The church wasn’t just a spiritual center—it was where villagers gathered to celebrate festivals, share news, and trade goods. Every market day, the square would come alive with merchants peddling colorful fabrics, fragrant herbs, and intricate trinkets.

Yet, beneath the surface of this idyllic life, whispers of change began to creep in. Rumors of distant wars, kingdoms clashing, and a mysterious sickness spreading from faraway lands stirred unease.

But the tales of wickedness still lingered and often reached this peaceful village. With Ridge Town lying just beyond the forest’s edge, a place known for its bustling markets and shadowy alleys, all sorts of stories filtered into Elysian. Some spoke of bandits who roamed the forest trails, preying on travelers. Others told of witches accused of summoning plagues, their trials ending in the flickering glow of pyres under a moonless sky.

There were darker tales still—whispers of Ridge Town’s underground dealing in forbidden alchemy, where desperate souls sought potions and charms at the cost of their humanity. Merchants carried word of knights returning from the Crusades, speaking of treasures and curses brought back from distant lands. Even the church bells couldn’t silence the murmurs of a sickness spreading through towns and cities like an invisible shadow, leaving death and despair in its wake.

Though Elysian Village remained untouched for now, a sense of unease crept through its cobblestone streets. The villagers clung tightly to their traditions, lighting candles at dusk and reciting prayers to ward off evil. But with Ridge Town so close, they couldn’t help but wonder: how long before the darkness reached their haven.

The gentle murmur of the river filled the air as sunlight streamed through the canopy of oak and birch trees, dappling the water with golden patterns. Mary knelt by the water’s edge, her skirts tucked up to keep from soaking as she scrubbed clothes against the smooth rocks. Her hands moved deftly, though her hazel eyes constantly flicked toward her younger siblings splashing and tumbling nearby.

Rosette, with her curly auburn hair bouncing, was twirling barefoot in the shallow stream, her laughter ringing like chimes. Michael, the youngest, giggled as he tried to catch frogs, his little hands plunging into the cool water only to come up empty. Meanwhile, Liam stood on the bank, holding a sturdy stick as though he were a knight brandishing a sword, his vivid imagination in full swing.

“Don’t go into the woods, Liam, Rosette, Michael!” Mary called, her tone firm despite her soft voice. As the eldest, she bore the responsibility of keeping the others safe, a weight she carried with quiet pride.

Liam spun around, his stick resting on his shoulder as he pouted. “But Mary—” he began, his brown eyes wide with a mixture of defiance and pleading.

“Not another word,” Mary cut him off, rising to her feet and wiping her damp hands on her apron. “You know what Mama said. The woods aren’t safe, especially with the Ridge Town hunters prowling about. They don’t care who they scare off—or worse.”

Liam groaned, dragging the stick in the dirt. Rosette looked toward the dark tree line with a hint of longing, her imagination likely filled with thoughts of secret hideaways and woodland fairies. Even Michael, now distracted from his frog hunt, gazed toward the forest with wide, curious eyes.

But Mary’s gaze lingered longest. Beyond the cheerful play of her siblings, the woods loomed—an imposing wall of shadow and mystery. The stories they’d heard of the creatures and dangers lurking within weren’t enough to shake her entirely, but she couldn’t ignore the growing sense of unease that tugged at her heart.

Rosette paused mid-twirl, her wide green eyes sparkling with wonder as she looked at Mary. “What if there’s a fairy that can help us, Mary?” she asked, her voice filled with dreamy curiosity.

Michael, crouched by the water’s edge, looked up eagerly. “Is it true that fairies live in the forest, Mary?” he asked, his little hands now clutching a mossy stone he’d been inspecting.

Before Mary could answer, Liam leaned on his stick with a smug grin. “Yeah, and then the boogie man caught the fairies to hunt you!” he teased, his voice rising dramatically as he widened his eyes for effect.

Rosette and Michael shrieked in unison, Rosette clutching her skirts as if the imagined boogie man might leap out of the woods any second. “Liam, stop it!” Rosette scolded, though her voice trembled with both fear and laughter.

Mary let out a small laugh, scooping water in her hands and flicking it toward Liam. The cool droplets splashed against his cheek, making him recoil with a surprised yelp. “Don’t scare them, you little rascal,” she said, though a smile tugged at her lips.

Liam wiped his face, scowling playfully. “Oh, come on, Mary, you liked it! Admit it!”

Mary rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. Their banter was one of the small joys she held onto, a reminder of their closeness even when the world outside seemed uncertain. She knelt back down by the river, the sunlight catching in her dark brown hair, and gestured for Michael and Rosette to come closer.

“Well, fairies might live in the forest,” Mary said, her voice lowering conspiratorially as she glanced toward the treeline. Rosette gasped, leaning in with wide-eyed excitement. Even Liam tilted his head, curiosity breaking through his smug façade. “But,” Mary continued, her tone serious, “they only reveal themselves to kind and brave children. They’d never appear to someone who scares his siblings.”

Michael grinned proudly, puffing out his chest. “I’m brave!”

“And kind!” Rosette added quickly, clutching her hands together as though pleading her case.

Liam scoffed but softened under Mary’s pointed look. “Fine,” he mumbled, poking his stick into the dirt, “I guess I can be nice, too.”

Mary smiled, shaking her head. “Then you’ll just have to wait and see if they come to you.” Her words hung in the air, leaving her siblings buzzing with hopeful anticipation.

For a moment, the shadowy forest seemed less foreboding, replaced by the magical possibility of fairies flitting among the trees. But as Mary returned to her washing, her gaze lingered on the woods again, a flicker of unease passing through her chest. For all their playful talk, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something—or someone—was watching them from the shadows.

The sky deepened into a fiery orange as the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over the forest and riverbank. “Liam, come and help me, quick,” Mary said, her voice firm as she folded the last of the damp clothes into the wicker basket. “Mama will be mad if we get home late.”

Liam groaned, dragging his feet but still stepping forward to lend a hand. His stick was now abandoned, leaning against a nearby tree. “You’re always so bossy,” he muttered, though his hands moved to help wring out the last soaked garments.

Meanwhile, Rosette and Michael continued their game, chasing one another in circles as their laughter echoed through the quiet evening air. Their carefree giggles were like music—until they suddenly stopped.

Mary looked up sharply, her heart skipping a beat at the abrupt silence. Rosette and Michael stood frozen, their eyes fixed on the edge of the woods. The fading sunlight painted their faces with a golden hue, but their wide-eyed expressions were pale with unease.

“What is it?” Mary asked, her voice tight as she moved quickly to their side. She crouched down, placing a protective arm around them. Rosette’s lips trembled as she pointed toward the tree line.

“The woods… someone’s there,” she whispered.

Mary’s breath caught as her gaze followed Rosette’s trembling finger. There, among the shadowed trunks and undergrowth, a pair of glowing eyes stared back at them. They were too high to belong to a fox or deer and too still for a bird. Whatever it was, it didn’t move—it only watched, unblinking, from the shadows.

“Liam!” Mary called sharply, her voice trembling as she pulled Rosette and Michael closer. Liam, startled by her tone, dropped the wet shirt he’d been holding and spun around.

“What—”

“Grab the basket and go home. Now!” Mary ordered, her heart pounding as she stood, shielding the younger children with her body. Liam hesitated, his bravado crumbling at the sight of his sister’s pale face. Without another word, he grabbed the basket and ran toward the narrow path leading to the village.

Mary’s hands trembled as she clutched Rosette and Michael by their arms. “Stay close to me,” she whispered. The two nodded silently, their earlier playfulness replaced by quiet fear.

As they hurried after Liam, Mary glanced back toward the woods. The eyes were gone. The darkness had swallowed them whole, leaving only the rustling of leaves in the cooling evening breeze.

Her heart raced as she quickened her pace, urging her siblings forward. The weight of the damp clothes only added to the growing dread in her chest. She didn’t dare speak of what she’d seen, not yet, but her mind swirled with questions. Who—or what—had put eyes on them.