The night began with laughter.
Hollowveil's streets were crowded with people celebrating the annual Moon Festival. Stalls lined the riverfront, music played from cheap speakers, and fireworks burst over the skyline. For once, life in the city felt simple — no talk of politics, no curfews, no headlines about the strange energy readings scientists had been arguing about for months.
It was just a night to breathe.
Then the sky changed.
At first, a faint red tint spread across the edges of the moon. No one panicked. Couples pointed their phones upward, recording what they thought was some kind of rare eclipse. The crowd even cheered when the red deepened, assuming it was part of the light show.
But the color didn't stop spreading.
Within minutes, the entire moon glowed like a bloodstain in the clouds. The air shifted—dry, electric, heavy. The music faltered. Fireworks stopped. The city went quiet except for the wind rattling through the banners.
And then, the hum began.
It started low, like the vibration of a passing train. Then it grew—metallic, sharp, until it felt like the sky itself was grinding open. Light fractured overhead, splitting into long cracks that spread across the clouds like shattered glass.
Every streetlight flickered out.
The temperature dropped so fast that breath turned white. Phones died. People screamed as their reflections in nearby windows began to move before they did.
Then came the voices.
They weren't human—too deep, too hollow, echoing from nowhere and everywhere at once. The first wraith appeared near the bridge: a faint outline in the air, rippling like heat on asphalt. Then another. And another.
Shapes formed—faces, half-faces, twisted figures that looked like smoke wearing skin. They slid through the crowd without sound. Where they passed, people collapsed. Skin grayed. Eyes went dark. Bodies crumbled to ash.
Chaos broke instantly. Families ran, tripping over each other. Stalls overturned. Screams filled the air until even those were swallowed by the howling of the wind. The red light bathed everything, and the smell of burnt metal and ozone clung to every breath.
Somewhere above the city, a voice rose—deep, ancient, and clear.
"The world of spirits has awakened."
The cracks in the sky widened until they met, forming a single open wound above Hollowveil. From within poured a darkness so thick it drowned the stars.
That was the night the dead came back.The night Hollowveil fell.