Salome cast a wary glance over the crooked rooftops of the village spread out before her.

It clung to the edge of a hollow, surrounded by low, grassy hills. The plain, weathered houses seemed to sprout haphazardly from the ground, like mushrooms pushing through damp moss. No flickering firelight shone through the cracks in the wooden doors, and not a single lantern illuminated the streets. Only the starlight reflected faintly in the windows. Everything was still.

"Are you sure this is the place?" she asked.

"It has to be nearby. I can feel it."

Salome glanced doubtfully at the tall man beside her. His fiery hair was hidden beneath a hood pulled low over his face. His eyes lay in shadow, but she knew he was scanning their surroundings with sharp focus.

"And what exactly are we expecting to find here?" she asked.

Instead of answering, her companion inhaled the cool night air deeply and exhaled it slowly. It sounded like the wind brushing gently over the grain fields, over the hills that shaped the land like stone waves, over the forests whose leaves whispered in the distance.

"It’s a good night. A night for dreaming. A night for hunting."

Without another word, he began striding down the path that led into the quiet village. Salome hesitated. There was something unsettling about this place. But she pushed her unease aside and followed him. After all, she was here to learn.

As far as she could tell, the village’s silence wasn’t threatening. She felt it in the lingering warmth of the timber walls as they passed, seeping from the day’s last heat, and in the muffled echo of their footsteps on the hard-packed earth. Whatever lurked in the shadows of the night wouldn’t be more dangerous than a nightmare easily shattered by a sharp mind and a strong will. Yet the absence of any sign of the villagers was strange. Behind the dull windowpanes, there was only impenetrable darkness, and she heard no restless creaking of bodies shifting in their sleep. No animals stirred either, despite the barns and pens hidden in the shadows of some backyards.

Her companion waited for her in the village square, where a simple well opened a path into the depths. Salome kept her distance from the yawning blackness within.

"Now then, Salome," he said, his deep voice soft. "What do you see?"

She turned slowly in a circle, taking in the unremarkable facades, observing the night as it pooled beneath the gables and overhangs, hiding from the silver light of the sky. The moon hung in the heavens, pale white, peeking from behind chimneys—a round disk in a sea of glittering stars.

“It’s so quiet here,” she said. “So peaceful. But…”

Something was wrong. The air felt strange, the distance to the walls oppressive, as though they were impossibly far away. She opened her mouth to speak a few times, hesitated, and then remained silent. "I can’t quite put it into words," she admitted finally. "But I feel… cut off. Like the night and this village don’t belong to the same world."

The man’s lips curved into a smile. “So, you’ve noticed.” He turned his back on her and looked at the sleeping village. “What you’re sensing is the boundary hidden here. The edges scrape at the depths of your mind.”

“What does that mean?” Salome asked, confused.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, his smile widening. “Why don’t you try to find out yourself? It usually comes so easily to you.”

Salome looked at him doubtfully. If only she knew what he was talking about! But she didn’t want to disappoint him. He had brought her along on this hunt to teach her, even after all he had already done for her. She owed him this. She had to trust him. So, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

The world wasn’t always as it seemed—that much she had come to understand. There were things everywhere, lingering at the edges of perception, just beyond the reach of the mind. To see them, one had to open oneself, let the world fill even the darkest corners of the soul, and live with one’s whole heart. It was difficult because sometimes the world resisted the mind, and too often, the mind was swept away by the relentless current of time, lost in the past or the future, instead of staying in the present. But Salome was no longer the naive, unknowing girl she had once been.

She listened to the wind, breathed in the scent of the land, and felt the unshakable stone beneath the earth, wrapped in cool, fertile soil. She heard the clear, trickling water deep in the well, echoes of rain purified by warmth and ancient rock. The stars wove silver strands through the shadows, granting them true darkness, and all things blossomed in their contrast. The world inside Salome shifted, becoming one with what surrounded her, and she felt the night sinking deeper. Slowly, a familiar weight filled the air. Light and shadow became tangible. She was here, exactly here, and the world was within her.

She opened her eyes.

At first, Salome saw no change. She felt the connection to the world around her, but everything looked as it should. Had her companion been wrong? She wanted to tell him, but then something caught her eye. Slowly, she raised her gaze to the moon. It was no longer a round disk high in the sky. No, the moon above now had jagged white spikes, protruding in all directions from its milky surface. A faint, almost familiar pulsing emanated from it. It no longer hung far away either. Instead, it seemed suspended low to the ground, close enough to touch if one were to climb a nearby tree…

A soft laugh reached Salome’s ears. She turned toward her companion. He had thrown back his hood, revealing the fiery mane that countless stories had attributed to him. His gleaming eyes were fixed on the strange moon, and a delighted chuckle rose from his chest, growing louder until booming laughter echoed through the village streets. Then, without warning, he sprinted toward the starry moon with strides that covered far more ground than they should have.

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“Narngrim!” Salome gasped in shock as the broad-shouldered man vanished behind a cottage. A sense of dread filled her heart, a foreboding. Without hesitation, she raced after him, running as fast as she could. The cold, shimmering windows and gaping doorways flew past her, but as her legs sank into knee-high grass, she saw him darting over the crest of a hill, as swift and graceful as the wind itself. He moved like one of the waves in the grass, flowing effortlessly over the land.

She had to catch up with him, reach him. She had to run faster, much faster! The grass slowed her, but it parted before her like water before a ship’s bow as she willed it. She leaned forward, and the hills blurred around her. She sped across the ground, never taking her eyes off his silhouette on the horizon. Grass and lonely shrubs turned to streaks, each step carrying her farther than the last. Faster! A brief glance downward made her think she saw four paws instead of legs, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was reaching the man in the distance. The starry moon shimmered, beautiful and alluring, but something told her great danger lay there. She had to warn him.

As she hurtled over the final hilltop, a powerful arm yanked her back to the ground. She hit the earth so hard that her breath caught in her throat, and the rustle of the wind went still until fresh air filled her lungs once more.

"Salome! Don’t lose yourself!" Narngrim hissed. The muscular man loomed over her, pinning her to the ground, his intense gaze holding hers. Yet he didn’t seem worried or angry. Instead, there was that same mischievous grin he’d worn earlier. He pressed a finger to his lips, signaling her to be quiet. Then, with a conspiratorial gleam, he pointed upward.

Salome’s eyes followed his gesture, and she saw the strange moon. It was indeed hanging in the air. Just below it, a cluster of tall pines rose toward the sky—jagged, menacing giants, black and twisted in the deep night. Narngrim’s finger traced the path from the moon to the trees, and Salome’s gaze followed. Between the trunks lay a darkness so profound that no eye could ever hope to pierce it, like a black wall at the edge of the world. The pines cast long shadows across the meadow before the hill where they lay.

Night shadows.

And in that half-formed darkness, Salome saw something that filled her with bone-deep dread.

It was hard to describe the creature that loomed from the shadows of the forest, its enormous, lifeless eyes fixed on the starry moon. Part of it resembled a toad, with warty, wrinkled skin. It stood on two stumpy legs, and a thick, tadpole-like tail disappeared into the pines. A wide, toothy mouth opened slowly. Salome pressed a hand over her mouth and ducked into the tall grass. Her heart pounded, and the wind that had gently brushed the treetops began to pick up strength, beating in time with her frantic pulse.

Suddenly, the grotesque creature’s mouth gaped wide, and a long, sticky tongue shot out. It struck the starry moon and pulled it down with the speed of a striking flytrap. In an instant, the moon vanished into the creature’s maw, and the world was plunged into darkness. A deafening silence thundered through the air, like a storm of mute cries crashing down on them. Every instinct in Salome screamed to flee, and she would have, had Narngrim not held her back. His massive hand clamped down, and he hastily threw his cloak over them both. Salome stared at him in terrified disbelief. Before the heavy fabric enveloped them, she cast one last glance at the creature.

It looked strangely bloated now, as if it might burst at any moment. Then, a bone-chilling, high-pitched scream rent the air. It was as if a wave of shrieks from the depths of the great emptiness was crashing over them. Salome clamped her hands over her ears beneath the cloak. The nightmarish wail might have torn the very soul from her chest if it hadn’t been muffled by the cloak that shielded them from the shredded night.

Only when the wailing subsided did Narngrim lift the cloak. Cautiously, Salome sat up, blinking at the sky. The night was calm once more, emerging from the depths, peaceful and still. There was the moon, just as it should be, round and distant. The stars twinkled, revealing lonely patches of clouds riding the wind in the silvery darkness. There was no trace of the horror they had just witnessed. Breathing heavily, Salome drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees. It took her a while to find her voice, but at last, she asked in a halting whisper, “What… was that?”

“A Silent Abyss,” Narngrim replied matter-of-factly. “At least, that’s what they’re called in the records of the first hunters.” He stood up, brushing the grass from his trousers. “These creatures sometimes lurk in night shadows and devour the sound of life. But you rarely see one. Lucky for us, right?”

He offered Salome his hand and pulled her to her feet.

“And that… thing?” she began.

“The starry moon? Well, that’s the reason why these nightmares are so rare. I’m not sure what those moons are. They have a strange pull, especially on creatures of silence. Sometimes I think they exist solely to kill Silent Abysses. But who could create such a thing!” He laughed briefly before continuing. “I didn’t expect to witness such a spectacle tonight. Maybe I should bring you along on hunts more often.” He gave Salome a knowing look. She opened her mouth to respond but thought better of it, her gaze drifting back to the pines, their treetops swaying gently in the breeze. Everything seemed so peaceful, as if the deep terror that had lurked beneath the cones and needles had never existed. It felt like waking from a bad dream, the details slipping from her memory like threads unraveling from the frayed hem of a woolen scarf—a feeling that was becoming all too familiar. She let it happen, knowing her mind couldn’t hold onto all the impressions forever.

“Why the grim face?” Narngrim’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Don’t tell me you pity that creature!”

“Of course not,” Salome replied sharply, turning her back on the pines. “Quite the opposite. I’m glad the world has been rid of that thing.”

She walked through the tall grass, avoiding direct eye contact with the broad-shouldered man. The encounter with the Silent Abyss had reminded her once again of how little she still understood about this world, how much there was yet to learn. She felt as though she hadn’t taken a single step closer to her goal…

At the crest of the hill, she stopped and let her gaze sweep over the village, lying quiet and abandoned. Its inhabitants would never know what had transpired here tonight. They would wake in the morning and go about their lives, oblivious to the truth that lurked in the shadows.

“This place reminds me of home,” Salome said softly after a while.

“That fairy tale world you always speak of?” Narngrim grumbled, joining her at the top of the hill.

“The people there have no idea of the truth,” Salome explained. “They believe in rumors and vague claims, never knowing what really hides in the shadows of the trees or behind veils of mist. They hide away in their little homes and content themselves with the stories that suit them best.”

“Fear of the unknown is only natural,” Narngrim said. “You’ve seen what lurks in some of those shadows. Can you really blame those who lack the courage to face such dangers?”

“The shadows in my homeland aren’t as deep,” Salome replied. “Facing them may be hard, but it’s better than living a lie.”

By now, the first pale glimmers of dawn were painting the horizon in the colors of morning, and the soft sounds of life began to drift up from the waking village.

“Whatever you say,” Narngrim muttered with a shrug, starting down the hill. “Come on now. It’s time to claim our reward!”

Salome cast one last glance over her shoulder, then followed him.