GRENNA – Where the Dead Doth Dally

They called it Grenna. That small seaside town, populated only by the mews of starving seagulls and the whistling of the frigid winds, gave birth to hysteria that spread like wildfire. Every newspaper peddled the same story, the only differences being editorial expressions of skepticism or religious fearmongering. It all came under the same headline, which embedded itself into the conversational assembly line hours after the first publication:

Grenna - Where the Dead Doth Dally.

‘Tis true that the catalyst was mere hearsay, but the source required no validation; famed journalist Piotr Excalibur, recipient of numerous accolades and now at wits end, did scream of what he saw that day on the streets, and in vivid detail did he continue to recall the exact goings-on at the abandoned town of Grenna, the shock reverberating in his trembling pupils and quivering lips.

“It was at the beach, around noon” his voice wavered. “The sea parted. Visitors arrived, their discussions unintelligible to the mortal ear. I am certain: they were the dead!”

Certainty was uncommon in the nation of Parveza, humanity’s last bastion in the fight against the sea. The tides swallowed all and nipped at the hills upon which Parveza stood. What little remained of the world beyond the country’s borders was of little concern to its people. But now that the world thought fit to arrive at its doorstep, Parveza could scarcely stand by with idle musings. It would send the 8^th regiment’s top-performing missionary, Selim Korbyn, to investigate the rumors, and to address the dead as the sole envoy of humanity.

Selim departed in the early morning on his aged steed, Herryk. It was a strong name, to quell the fear in the rider’s heart. In a world that had little else to offer, those who faced death often succumbed to its seductions. Would Selim be brave enough to return? Herryk’s duty was to ensure he did.

The wind beat at Selim’s body and the cold air chilled his bones as he rode through Ergos Chasm, a passage that marked mankind’s first pilgrimage inward to escape the ever-advancing sea. Selim was a boy then, leaving his home in Molsbad behind for a better future on that mountain-top the ancients named Parveza. Decades later, riding down that same path, Selim felt nothing. That hopeful boy was a stranger. Perhaps he had found a better life elsewhere, and left Selim behind. His thoughts could ill-afford to tarry, however. Grenna beckoned, and its call was haunting indeed.

He beheld it at a distance. Clouds rolled overhead, and Selim bore witness to a flock of birds flying in circles above the town. They were crows. The seagulls, whose place they had taken, were instead lying on the ground. Selim continued to the edge of the world, and at two o’clock in the afternoon on the Twelfth of Avram, in the Eighth year of the Second Ancient, he arrived at Grenna.

Herryk walked forward with conviction, his hooves skillfully avoiding the dead seagulls littering the ground. Selim could hardly hear his own thoughts over the roaring of the crows flying overhead. Their feathers were a pitch black, and their eyes were pure white. Under the coverage of their distorted forms, Grenna was subjected to a perpetual dark. Selim simply continued walking to the beach, where Piotr Excalibur attested to witnessing the arrival of the dead. As he did, he felt a strange, cool breeze hit his back and rattle his spine. Selim turned his head stoically, and in his peripherals, he spotted someone behind him. He would not turn Herryk around; the horse would watch the sea. Selim could tell the visitor was not human.

The shadow spoke to him. Selim did not understand a word. It was as Piotr had described; the speech was utterly unintelligible. That did not mean it was inhuman. No, indeed, Selim heard a passion and desperation in the shadow’s words. Selim turned his body around to respond, but then the shadow was gone. Herryk grunted and clopped his hooves on the dried soil beneath him, as if alerting Selim. The sea grew restless, and the two braced themselves. Selim had visualized the picture painted by Piotr many times and deemed himself prepared. Selim was wrong.

The sea parted with a thundering bellow, as if a blade honed by the Gods and fueled by their rage had cut it in two. Selim’s heart had never beat this fast, and he could feel with Herryk’s quickened breaths that his loyal steed was exercising all of its courage to not turn tail and run. The sea remained parted, and a short moment later, the birds overhead ceased their flight and landed on the rooftops of the seaside town, turning their eyes to the passage at the center of the sea. The darkness was gone, and Selim could now see the center passage clearly. It was there that he beheld wavering shadows, slowly forming with groans and whispers. They spoke in nostalgia and forgotten promises, their footsteps black brushstrokes across that dead brown canvas. Their frame was the sea, and their audience was Grenna.

Selim felt their gaze upon him. The veteran missionary awkwardly looked around, first at the birds, then at Herryk, and then back at the shadows in the sea. The silence was deafening. He decided to advance forward, to the edge of the land that bordered the central passage. As he did, his eyes met with the shadows various times, but they remained unmoving. When Selim reached the edge, he heard sounds: grunting. He looked over the edge, down into the passage, and his eyes widened.

Dozens of shadows latched onto the high wall of eroded rock that led to Selim. They looked small, as if they were children. It was upon witnessing their climb that Selim realized the shadows were never looking at him, but rather them. The little shadows grasped at the decaying earth, and many of them slipped. When they hit the ground, they stayed there, as the larger shadows seemed to shake their heads. There was one, however, who continued to climb. The little shadow, through tremendous struggle, was nearly at the top, from where Selim looked down. A little boy, so full of hope, that it sparked within Selim an urge to stretch out his hand. Herryk would not have it.

The horse protested by backing away from the edge, and Selim wrestled with it in an attempt to calm the animal. During the struggle, Selim heard the flapping of wings once more as the birds clad in black took to the skies, but instead of flying overhead, they headed for the edge where Selim stood. At the same time, the little shadow to whom he had offered his hand finally reached the top. Selim lost sight of him, however, when the birds began to circle around them. A tornado of feathers closed in on all sides, wrapping Selim, Herryk and the little shadow in its furious tempest. Selim closed his eyes, and as the roaring grew louder, he prayed. He could feel the birds brushing against him with every rotation, scratching his clothes. It felt like it lasted an eternity, until the cawing ceased.

Selim opened his eyes. The sea was normal again. The birds were once more flying overhead. He looked around and saw nothing but the dead seagulls that had marked his path before. His clothes were not tattered contrary to his expectations, and above all, Herryk was in one piece. Selim grabbed the reigns hurriedly and escaped the seaside town of Grenna, the birds’ caws sounding like laughs as he made his escape.

Selim passed through Ergos Chasm once more, grateful to have escaped in one piece. He reached Parveza in a few days’ time, and with the experience fresh in his mind, ran to the Premier’s office to make his report. He dismounted Herryk at the 8^th Regiment Barracks and thanked the horse for returning him safely. Selim's comrades stared at him as he stormed past them towards the Premier’s office. Immediately upon entering, Selim gave his entire report detailing the strange ritualistic ceremony occurring at Grenna, presumably daily. The Premier simply looked at him in shock, which Selim saw as appropriate given the subject matter.

Selim left the office after giving his report, with no further words from the Premier. He reasoned the Premier’s silence to be the result of his failure to communicate with the shadows at Grenna, which was Selim’s job as sole envoy of humanity. He was not one to disappoint his superiors, and that night as he lay on his bed, Selim cursed himself for his inadequacy.

The next morning, every newspaper peddled the same story, the only differences being editorial expressions of discontent and further religious fearmongering. It all came under the same headline, which embedded itself into the conversational assembly line hours after the first publication:

Horseman clad in shadows arrives at Parveza; attempts communication with Premier!