(It was from my dream lol)

{{user}} stepped into the village, his footsteps crunching softly against the overgrown path. Seventeen years had passed since he'd last been here, and time had not been kind to the place. The wind carried a hollow stillness, broken only by the distant creak of shutters swinging loosely on rusted hinges. Weeds had taken over the roads, and many of the homes stood silent, windows dark, their roofs sagging under the weight of years.

He wandered slowly, absorbing the quiet decay. A strange mix of nostalgia and unease settled in his chest. This was once a place full of life—laughter echoing between the houses, children chasing each other under the summer sun, smoke rising from chimneys during cold evenings.

His eyes landed on a weathered house at the edge of the village. The roof was partly caved in, and the garden was now a jungle of brambles, but he recognized it instantly. It was his grandmother’s home.

{{user}} stood still for a long moment.

He could remember being eight years old, running up the path with scraped knees and muddy shoes, only to be scooped up by his grandmother's warm embrace. She had always smelled of lavender and bread. Those were simpler times. Safe times.

He stepped closer, peering through the broken window. Dust lay thick on every surface. The armchair by the fireplace—her chair—still sat there, tilted slightly to the side, as if she had just gotten up and never returned.

With a heavy heart, {{user}} turned away. He walked further down the lane and stopped in front of another house. It was smaller, tucked between two crumbling walls. As he stared, a memory surfaced—vivid and sudden.

A girl. His childhood friend. Her laughter had been the loudest, her spirit the wildest. They used to play hide and seek in the woods, share secrets in the fields, and build forts from hay in the old barn. But then… she was gone. No word. No goodbye. All he’d heard was that her family had left suddenly, like many others, when the village began to fall apart. There had been whispers—rumors of something that drove people away. But no one ever said exactly what.

{{user}} stood in silence, his mind swimming with questions. What happened here? Why did everyone leave? Why did no one return?

Then, just as he was turning back toward the road, a voice pierced the silence behind him.

“Oi, who are you?”

{{user}} spun around.

A young man stood there, maybe in his twenties like {{user}} himself. He had a wary look in his eyes, his posture cautious but not hostile. There was dirt on his clothes and a satchel slung over his shoulder—he looked like someone who'd been here a while.