It was another peaceful night in the village of Concord, out there on the edge of the wasteland. Sheriff Isola Lange patrolled the cobblestone streets, her hands resting gently on her belt as she breathed in the warm evening air. The town was calm, the people all safely tucked away inside their homes, the world noiseless save for the singing of the crickets and the drowsy rustling of the sheep inside their pens. A soothing glow radiated from the cozy dwellings that lined the narrow lanes, huddled beneath a starry, moonless sky.

  It was hard for Lange to believe that only a few weeks prior things hadn’t been so serene, what with the recent earthquake that had turned the town a-tizzy. Folks were suddenly panicked by the notion that the ground could betray them at any given moment, even in a region where such things were rarer than a red moon. The town founders in particular didn’t take too kindly to the quake, as the world jolting like a ship under fire brought back feelings best forgotten. It had taken many tireless days to repair the town’s defenses and soothe its skittish inhabitants, but under the Mayor’s stalwart guidance, things had finally settled back into a relaxed routine.

  Lange neared the end of her nightly rounds, turning the corner onto the last road of the route, her mind slipping into fantasies of cold beer and the soft chair waiting for her back at her cabin. As she dreamed, she neared the end of the line of homes and came to an open door spilling warm lamplight out into the darkened street. Just as Lange crossed into the beam, a patchwork leather ball bounced out of the house and onto the road, rolling to a stop at her feet. As she bent over to pick it up, a small child no older than four stumbled out of the doorway after it.

  Lange looked the toddler in the eye and handed him the ball, offering him a tender smile. “Hey there, short stuff,” she softly greeted. “You know not to be playin’ outside past curfew, don’t ya?” The child stared at her with wide eyes and sheepishly nodded. Lange laughed lightly at the child’s timid response. “Be a good boy and run back inside now, ya hear?” The boy stood motionless, caught in the Sheriff’s proverbial headlights.

  SNAP!

  A weighty crack echoed out from behind a nearby home. Lange sprang upright, alert, narrowing her eyes. Whatever made that noise was heavy—too heavy to have been human. Something, somehow, must have clawed its way over the cliffs surrounding the village—or worse, slipped in through the gate. She looked out, scanning the buildings like a hawk, peering through the inky blackness of the night.

  Calmly, she nudged the boy back inside the house. “Go back to mommy and daddy now. It’s okay,” she soothed. Oblivious to the danger, the toddler waddled back into his home and closed the door behind him.

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  The sheriff removed her revolver from her hip and carefully crept towards the origin of the sound. Bringing up the whistle dangling from her neck, she blew three shrill, long blasts which bounced against the walls of the mesa. Moments later, the lights of the village were doused, followed by the sounds of locking doors and shuttering windows. Lange stood alert in the middle of the road, freshly wrapped in darkness.

  Activating her electric lantern, Lange lifted it high above her head and waved it in lively arcs. No Unbound could resist the lure of the light. All she needed to do was follow her usual playbook: trick the creature into giving chase and then lead it straight into the pit. Even the largest cannon couldn’t do as much damage as a nice, deep hole in the ground. Cocking back the hammer of her pistol, she aimed down the road and waited for the beast to emerge through the darkness.

  But nothing came. Not a shape nor sound escaped from the curtain of gloom before her. Lange raised a brow and slowly trudged ahead. Maybe she hadn’t actually heard anything…

  CRACK!

  Another noise shot into the air, close by and behind Lange’s back. For the briefest of seconds, the world around her was lit up in jade, bright and quick as a flashbulb, before the dark of night fell over her view once more.

  Lange blinked—what on earth was that? She whipped around and steadied her aim, thrusting her lantern out ahead of her. A trace of fear brushed against her heart. She stood motionless, listening and looking for any signs of movement, unsure of what to do.

  Dousing her jitters, she moved in, keeping ever vigilant.

  The noises returned once more, soft at first but growing in volume until reaching a rhythmic and pointed crescendo. Heavy creaks and snapping wood rang out from the far side of the homes, coming from the livestock pens.

  The animals! Lange quickened her pace, breaking into a cautious jog. As she reached the end of the block, the crunching of lumber gave way to the panicked bleatings of the sheep and goats, and then to anguished cries.

  The shrieks and wails of the livestock sent shivers down Lange’s spine. She burst into a run and rushed around the corner, sprinting towards the entrance to the pens. As she neared, the sickened squeals of the animals turned uproarious, then all at once ceased.

  Lange threw herself at the corral, her lantern raised, her pistol at the ready. The sight ahead shook her to a stop. The color drained from her face. Before her was one of the sheep pens, its fence shattered to splinters. There was nothing left inside. Tufts of wool and small scraps of viscera littered the ground. Blood pooled in the dirt, smeared into deep drag marks that poured out onto the cobblestone road.

  Lange followed the trail of gore across the street, her gun poised, ready for anything. Streaks of blood painted the bricks like depraved brushstrokes, winding down the road in wide arcs before coming to a stop at a lofty wall of rock.

  The sheriff lifted her torch. The sanguine streaks continued up the wall, blood splattering over the stone and onto a series of switchbacks winding up the mesa. She craned her head, tracking the trail ever higher as it disappeared into the blackness, heading towards the top of the hill—towards the old manor.

  Lange stared into the dark, looking in horror as a faint green glow flickered out over the rim of the mesa before blinking into nothing.

  There was something out there.