When Dawn Dies Down

1890, Ignition

South of the river there stood still a newly-formed town. The wind gently ran through the golden glimmering rye fields east of the town, sparking tiny fragrant pieces all over the ground. The birds were startled, rising from the evergreen trees. The aquamarine stream in the woods nearby danced unruffled over the stones, its sounds of brushing echoing through the forest. The hares dipped their heads down in the clear glass-like water, gulping the elixir.
South of the town was a thriving farm, the warehouse stuffed with a plethora of crops, which filled the stomachs of all of the town. In the barns, cattle and poultry populations were higher than ever. The wheat wiggled in the cool breeze of fall, waiting to be harvested.
In the rye field, there sat two people. They were just sitting there, feeling the breeze running through their hair. The tranquility was like nothing people had seen before.
"So, Gale," one of them finally opened their mouth, "how do you feel about this place?"
"You needn't have asked." Gale chuckled. "This had to be the best thing that ever happened to me. Just look at this, it is our town. We found the people and we built it by ourselves. It's a miracle, I'll tell you. We got such a good place, and gave so many people such a peaceful life. I can't enjoy this more."
"And I couldn't agree more."
They both laughed and continued sitting there. They had never been prouder in their lives, for they were the forefathers of this small yet fabulous town — Lark Ranhbniz and Gale Wisconsin.

***

The evening in the town was extra noisy. The center of the town was crowded, the people talking excitedly. The moment that every single person in the town had been waiting for had come.
The naming ceremony of the town.
Everyone was hyped, speculating what the name might be, or even, which of the town builders they should name this after — Lark Ranhbniz or Gale Wisconsin.
The people were having a great time. A red stage stood in the center, singers and dancers performing enthusiastically on it. Around it, there was also an all-you-can-eat buffet, with fish caught from the stream, bread from the freshly harvested wheat of the farm, tender beef from the barns, and soup made from herbs on the mountains. The town became what it was built to be like — a utopia.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
A small golden bell rang three times. All fell into silence and stared excitedly at the stage.
It was Gale Wisconsin.
"Attention! Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you all for being a part of this town! It meant so much to me and Lark. You guys made our dream come true. We started from a canny piece of land, to such a thriving town with enough food to fill everyone's tummies. And I can confidently say that Lark did way more stuff than me during the process. He did the majority of the planning, the gathering, the designing, building and so much more, and I was just his assistant. So, if you all can do me ONE favor, just ONE, name the town after him!"
Lark was left in awe, smiling like he'd never done before.
"Thank you." He said, went up on stage and hugged Gale. The two smiled,
The crowd bursted into cheer. "Ranhbniz! Ranhbniz!"
And so the town was named Ranhbniz.
The rest of the night was magical, happiness filled the air. Ranhbniz was off to a bright and hopeful future.
After the partying crowd had gone home and slept, Lark packed his stuff and went to Gale's house to discuss some town affairs with him.
"Gale?" He knocked on the door, "I'm here!"
No answer.
"Gale! I'm coming in!" He opened the unlocked door and walked in. "Gale? Are you fine?"
Silence.
The moment he went into Gale's room he lost his mind. He stood there shaking, terrified and heartbroken.
Gale was lying there lifelessly, blood around his neck. His eyes only showed the white part, staring at the ceiling, his face twisted, angry and scared, his limbs and body unnaturally crooked.
Lark trembled and slowly walked to the corpse. Who would've done such a thing?
And then he noticed, on the table beside Gale's body, there was a piece of blood dyed paper. It was a letter.