Bob The Dragon Layer

A Village Without Time

The sun had barely crested the horizon, casting a pale light over the rugged landscape as Bob, Anyala, and Tarran continued their journey westward. The wind still carried a faint chill, though it was nothing compared to the stormy winds of the wind hive they had encountered the day before. Bob's shield now bore the faint glow of his new wind powers, and while he hadn't quite figured out how to fully control them yet, he could feel the wind responding to him in subtle ways—like a constant, silent companion at his side.

Anyala rode beside him, as calm and collected as ever, her silver hair catching the early morning light. Bob had grown used to her quiet presence, though her mysterious nature still left him wondering just how much she wasn't telling him. She always seemed to know more than she let on, offering just enough to guide him without revealing too much of herself.

They had ridden in silence for a while when Anyala suddenly turned to Bob, her eyes glinting with amusement. "So, Bob, what's your opinion on reptiles?"

Bob blinked, surprised by the sudden question. He glanced at her, unsure if she was serious or if she was just teasing him. "Reptiles? I mean... they're fine, I guess? Why do you ask?"

Anyala shrugged, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Just curious. Some people are terrified of them, you know."

Bob chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm not scared of them. They're... interesting, I guess. Though I've never really thought much about it."

Tarran, riding ahead of them, glanced over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. "Reptiles? Is this what we're discussing now?"

Anyala's smile widened slightly. "We've been on the road for days. I thought it might be time to liven up the conversation."

Bob couldn't help but laugh. Anyala had a way of lightening the mood, even in the most serious of situations. He appreciated that about her—she always knew how to break the tension, even if he still couldn't figure out where her playful questions came from.

As the conversation drifted back into a comfortable silence, the three of them rode onward, the road stretching endlessly before them. The further they traveled, the more remote the landscape became. Villages grew fewer and farther between, and the wind carried with it a strange, almost unnatural stillness.

It was midday when they first saw the village. It lay nestled between two low hills, smoke rising from a handful of chimneys. At first glance, it looked like any other small settlement they had passed—modest homes, a few market stalls, and villagers going about their daily lives. But as they drew closer, something felt... off.

Tarran slowed his horse, his sharp eyes narrowing as he scanned the village. "Something's not right," he muttered.

Bob frowned, following Tarran's gaze. The villagers were moving about, but their actions seemed too... repetitive. The same man swept the same spot outside his house, over and over again. A woman at a market stall handed the same loaf of bread to a customer, only for it to reappear on the shelf the next moment, and then the scene repeated.

"It's like they're stuck," Bob whispered, a chill running down his spine. "They're doing the same things over and over."

Anyala's gaze darkened, her playful demeanor vanishing in an instant. "They're trapped. But not physically. Something is controlling them."

Tarran dismounted, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Stay alert. There's something unnatural at work here."

The three of them approached the village cautiously, their eyes darting between the villagers, all of whom continued their strange, repetitive tasks without acknowledging the newcomers. Bob's heart pounded in his chest as they entered the village square, where a man sat on the steps of a building, cradling what looked like an old-fashioned camera in his lap.

The man didn't look up as they approached, his eyes distant, lost in thought. But Bob could feel it—the weight of sorrow hanging over him like a dark cloud.

"Excuse me," Bob said, his voice gentle as he stepped closer. "Is everything alright here?"

The man didn't respond at first, his grip tightening on the camera. When he finally looked up, his eyes were red-rimmed and hollow, as if he hadn't slept in days.

"They can't leave," the man said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "They can't leave because... because if they do, the day will end."

Bob exchanged a glance with Tarran and Anyala, his confusion deepening. "What do you mean? What's happening here?"

The man's gaze dropped to the camera, his fingers trembling as he held it. "My daughter... she died. And I... I couldn't bear it. So I made it stop. I made the day stop. I captured it, with this." He lifted the camera, showing it to them. "It's a soul weapon. It lets me capture moments. So I captured that day. The day before she died. And now... now we can live it forever."

Anyala's eyes narrowed. "You're forcing the entire village to relive that day?"

The man nodded, his expression haunted. "They don't understand. They're happy. They don't remember what's coming. They're safe here. I've saved them."

Bob's heart clenched as he listened to the man's words, understanding the depth of his pain. But he knew this wasn't right—this wasn't real. The villagers were trapped, forced to live the same day over and over again, without the chance to move forward or heal.

"We can't let this continue," Tarran said, his voice firm. "This isn't a life. It's a prison."

Bob nodded in agreement, but as they stepped forward, the air around them shifted. The villagers, who had been going through their repetitive motions, suddenly turned their attention to the three strangers. Their expressions were blank, but their movements were deliberate as they began to converge on Bob, Tarran, and Anyala.

"They're protecting him," Anyala said, her voice grim. "He's using them to stop us."

The villagers moved like a swarm, their eyes empty, their actions mechanical. Bob felt a surge of panic as they drew closer, knowing they couldn't hurt innocent people. But the villagers were intent on keeping them away, their hands reaching out as they surrounded the group.

"We don't want to hurt you!" Bob shouted, raising his shield defensively. But the villagers didn't stop.

With no other choice, the three of them fought back, using their weapons and abilities to defend themselves. Bob swung his shield with precision, knocking villagers back without dealing lethal blows, while Tarran cut through their ranks with measured strikes. Anyala moved gracefully, using subtle magic to slow the villagers' movements, ensuring they didn't get overwhelmed.

But despite their best efforts, several villagers fell, their bodies crumpling to the ground.

Bob's heart sank as he realized what had happened. "No... we didn't mean to..."