MURAKHAL

“The Eclipse of the Unseen,” they called it. The people of Goykan were hardworking and collaborative, united in their fight to build a prosperous state. But not every smile in Goykan was genuine; the land held deep, dark secrets.

Every hundred years, the eclipse occurred. During those two days, paranormal phenomena roamed free, and humans were forbidden from going outdoors if they wished to remain alive.

It was the dead of night, and preparation for the sacred eclipse was underway. In a small home, Zara Yaklup and her husband, Demiah—a respected warrior in the Goykan army—were preparing for the lockdown. Zara was heavily pregnant and nearing her delivery date. While Demiah busied himself organizing enough food to last the duration of the eclipse, the silence between them was heavy. Fear flickered in their eyes whenever they met, a silent question haunting them both:Will the baby come during the sacred days?

Demiah finished his chores and turned to lock the door, only to find his wife standing there, her beautiful eyes shimmering with terror. He pulled her into a warm, grounding hug. “I know,” he whispered. “I’m scared too. But whatever happens, I am here with you, my love. I will stand by you through everything.”

“Thank you,” Zara replied, leaning into him. “I trust that our little angel heard her father’s words. I love you.”

The night passed peacefully, but as the morning sun began to shadow over—as if being swallowed by darkness—the eclipse truly began. The town fell into an eerie, suffocating silence. Windows were shuttered; no one dared to look outside.

The couple sat for a quiet breakfast, but as Demiah reached into the locker for bread, the sound of shattering glass echoed through the house. He spun around to find Zara clutching her belly, her face twisted in agony, a sharp cry escaping her lips.

“Demiah... it’s time!” she gasped, clutching his shirt as she slumped to the floor. “The baby is coming!”

Demiah froze. He was a warrior, trained for battle, but he knew nothing of labor. He had only two choices: let them die inside, or risk the forbidden outdoors. Confusion clouded his mind until he saw his wife’s eyes.

“Do it, my love,” she panted, tears streaming down her face. “We have no other choice... we have to save our baby.”

With sweat beading on his brow and trembling hands, Demiah’s expression hardened with resolve. “I will,” he vowed. “For the sake of our love and our child, I will.”

He tightened his grip on the door knob and threw the door open. A cold, thick, suffocating air hit him, and the darkness outside felt as deep as midnight. Mixing fear with the courage of a warrior, he looked back at his wife, who was rapidly losing her strength. He scooped her into his arms, breathed a final, desperate prayer, and stepped out into the forbidden abyss.

Demiah hammered his fists against the heavy oak doors of the village, his voice cracking as he begged for even a sliver of mercy. “Please, just let us in! My wife is fading, she cannot survive the night!” He waited, his breath hitching, but only the cold, biting wind answered him. The villagers remained behind their locked doors, paralyzed by fear and superstition. He looked down at Zara; she was limp in his arms, her skin as pale as the winter moon, her breathing so shallow that he feared it would stop at any moment.

“I will not let you die here,” he whispered, his voice trembling with a grief he could no longer contain. He hauled her into his arms, stumbling into the suffocating belly of the forest. The darkness there was absolute, thick with the scent of pine and something ancient, something that felt like a predator watching from the shadows.

He stopped in the middle of the clearing, the weight of his wife and the isolation of the forest crashing down on him. He threw his head back and let out a guttural, jagged cry for help, a plea that echoed through the trees. “Anyone! Please! Is there no one left who will show mercy?”

The air did not just ripple; it broke. The silence was shattered by the sound of shifting fabric. Six figures materialized from the darkness, their forms draped in tattered, ink-black cloaks. Demiah froze, terror gripping his heart. He instinctively pulled Zara into the shadows, shielding her with his own body, waiting for the strike.

But the figures did not attack. The leader stepped forward, its face obscured by a veil of swirling mist. It extended a hand toward the unconscious Zara, and a faint, golden hum filled the air. As the leader touched her forehead, a soft light flowed into her, stabilizing her failing heartbeat. Then, with a fluid motion, the leader pulled a small, glowing ember from its own cloak and pressed it firmly against the newborn infant’s wrist. The child let out a sudden, sharp cry as the mark—a swirling, intricate pattern—seared into her skin, pulsing with a life of its own.

“We have granted her the mark of the unseen,” the leader rasped, its voice like grinding stone against glass. “It is the only way she will survive what is to come.”

Demiah gasped, shifting the infant closer. “Who are you? Why help us?”

“We are the watchers of the gates,” the leader replied, stepping to Zara’s side. With a wave of its hand, a translucent, shimmering barrier formed around the couple and the child, glowing with a protective blue hue. “We have observed your struggle. We can offer you this protection, and we will ensure you return to your threshold safely.”

The leader gestured to two of the other figures, who moved to either side of Zara, their cloaked forms lifting her gently so she floated alongside Demiah, shielded by the shimmering dome.

“Go directly to your home,” the leader commanded. “We will escort you. Do not look back, no matter what you hear. The Krelga are already scenting your path, but inside the light of this shield, they cannot touch you. You are under our guard until you are behind your own door.”

Demiah did not dare ask more. With the child clutched to his chest and Zara hovering securely within the protective barrier, he turned and ran. He ignored the guttural, hungry shrieks that began to echo through the trees as the Krelga closed in, finding themselves unable to penetrate the barrier cast by the six figures. He did not look back, driven only by the terrifying necessity of reaching the safety of his home, knowing he was guided by forces far beyond his understanding.