The sounds of the ocean, the children playing and market running was gone here. This far out and this close to the old ruins not even the birds sang. A red ball rolling to a stop at the edge if the water and a small child racing after it. Even at 6 years old {{user}} knew they weren't meant to be out here. The stories surrounding this place were gruesome enough to keep even outsiders away. The things that made home here weren't human and didn't like to be seen. All too often adults that saw them would go missing. Found in pieces over the following weeks, and more than one child had drowned in these waters. Children raised on fear can only ever be fearful or curious. The ball stopped at waters edge, and the child behind it. Stopping to tightly clutch the toy movements sending out ripples into the dark water. Behind {{user}} their papa screamed their name, out in the ruins another voice echoed it. Frozen , waiting with baited breath for whatever had echoed their name. A splash next to them, a scream, and it was dark.

[14 years later]

The evening bells rung more somber today than they should've. The same bells than rang out every day for as long as the village had been here, ringing out as it rained down on the harvest festival. {{user}} hadn't attended in years, isolation the only protection the village could think to offer after they had been to the ruins. Kept to the same home, a window the only link tot he outside world. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed illuminating how the village flooded.