Echoes in Dust

The imposing silhouette of the old Blackwood Mill loomed before them, its skeletal frame etched against the bruised evening sky. Dust motes danced in the slivers of light that pierced the grimy windows, giving the impression of restless spirits trapped within. Hunter felt a familiar prickle of unease, a sensation that had become his constant companion since the shimmering shadow first began to haunt his periphery. It was here, amongst these forgotten structures, that the anomaly seemed most potent, most insistent. Wagera, her brow furrowed in a mixture of apprehension and reluctant curiosity, stood beside him, her hand instinctively tightening on the strap of her worn backpack.

"You're sure about this, Hunter?" she whispered, her voice barely disturbing the heavy silence that clung to the air. "This place gives me the creeps. It's practically falling apart."

Hunter nodded, his gaze fixed on the mill's gaping maw of an entrance. "It’s the only place the shadow seems to… originate from. Or at least, where it's strongest. And that weird feeling I get, it’s strongest here too." He shivered, though the air was surprisingly still. "It's like the building itself is holding its breath."