Seer
Something strange happened
.....
The morning came and a boy went missing, the air over Elowen turned glassy and cold when ochar heard it he thought it was johnny but was glad it wasn't him.Mist crawled out of the River Veil like a living thing, wrapping around trees, spilling over the fields.
When the fishermen found his shoe—a small leather one, wet and pale as bone—it was resting neatly at the edge of the water.
No struggle. No drag marks. Just the shoe… and hundreds of tiny footprints circling it like a ritual.
No one wanted to look closer.
By noon, the whole town whispered in half-sentences.
The Reverend spoke softly of "faith and vigilance." Mothers clutched their children tighter.
Even the dogs went silent.
And from the window of his small workshop, Ochar watched.
He said nothing. But his eyes, dark and trembling, followed the mist as it drifted toward his door .
---
By dusk, a carriage rolled into Elowen.
It was black, lacquered, and lined with pale symbols that caught the dying light.
When it stopped before the chapel, four figures stepped out.
At their head was Don Mario — tall, silver-haired, one eye blind and clouded, the other sharp as a knife.
He leaned on a cane of carved bone, its handle shaped like a serpent devouring itself.
Behind him came Sister Velra, cloaked in white; her face was hidden, her lips moving in a prayer no one could hear.
Ser Haskel, broad and scarred, followed, carrying something that looked like a rifle made from both wood and silver.
And last was Archivist Ruen, thin and nervous, his satchel full of rolled parchment and iron-tipped pens.
They called themselves the Order of the Pale Eye, though few dared say the name aloud.
"No one leaves the town until we know what took the boy,"
Don Mario said simply.
"And if it was no man — then God help us all."
---
They began with the river.
Don Mario knelt by the edge, his reflection trembling in the black water. He touched the soil and brought his fingers to his tongue.
"Ash," he murmured. "The ground burns from beneath."
Ser Haskel examined the footprints — small, countless, almost circular.
"Too small for a child," he said. "Too many for men."
Sister Velra stood silent.
Her eyes rolled faintly beneath her veil, and her hands trembled.
"They whisper," she said finally.
"A thousand whispers. The ones below are restless."
Ruen scribbled furiously, his ink blotting with each tremor in his hand.
He drew a pattern from memory — a circle with six eyes and a line of ants crawling across it.
When Don Mario saw the drawing, his jaw tightened.
"So it's true," he said. "The Ants have begun their march."
---
That evening, the Order took quarters in the old chapel.
They sealed the doors with salt, hung lanterns of red glass, and prayed until the air throbbed.
But Elowen did not sleep.
The wind moaned through the streets, the wells whispered, and at midnight — the sound came.
Faint, at first.
A ticking, like the patter of rain on stone. Then louder. Closer.
When Don Mario opened the chapel door, the ground outside moved.
It shimmered — thousands of tiny, black forms crawling out from the earth, their bodies glistening like oil.
The Ants.
They did not bite. They only watched.
A wave of living shadow, pausing at the chapel threshold as though waiting for permission.
Velra began to pray. Her voice shook.
The Ants trembled — and retreated, vanishing into the soil like smoke.
Only one remained behind, crawling up the chapel wall to the wooden cross.
It paused just below the figure of Christ, then stopped.
Don Mario stepped forward, heart pounding.
He raised his cane. The Ant looked up — and spoke.
A whisper, soft as breath:
"The gate is open."
Then it fell dead.
---
The Dawn After
By morning, the Order was silent.
Velra wept as she cleaned the chapel floor.
Ruen refused to draw again.
Don Mario stood by the window, eyes fixed on the mist beyond the graveyard.
"If the Ants are here," he said,
"then something greater stirs."
Haskel frowned.
---
From across the street, unseen, Ochar watched.
His face was calm, but his breath came sharp, quick.
He could feel it — the air calling him, vibrating through the marrow of his bones.
He lifted his hand. His palm twitched; black dust flaked from beneath his nails.
Something in the ground beneath him shifted — something that had once been part of him.
The curse, the one that had saved him from dying, was awake again.
He turned toward the river.
The water rippled though there was no wind, and his reflection rose to meet him — smiling where he did not.
The reflection whispered:
"They are looking for the boy"
ochar surprised demanded"who are they looking for?"but the reflection just gave a smile to the question then adds"Ochar soon, they will be looking for you."
And as the dawn light broke, faint chittering rose again from the ground.
The Ants were not gone.
They were waiting
seer
waiting for you and i