The Bigshot's Superstar Wife - Chapter 152

Chapter 152: No One Left
The night of the eclipse came like a silent predator, creeping upon the village with an unnatural stillness.

The air grew heavy, thick with something unseen, something ancient. The villagers, who had spent generations in this land, felt the shift before they saw it.

The elders whispered of omens, of restless spirits, and of the cursed moon that would bring ruin. But no one could have predicted the horror that was about to unfold.

As the sun set, the sky was consumed by a deep, bruised purple, an eerie prelude to the coming darkness.

The stars, usually bright and guiding, dimmed one by one, swallowed by an invisible force.

A cold wind howled through the village, rattling doors and windows, carrying with it the scent of decay.

The animals sensed it first, dogs whined and cowered, oxen bucked against their stalls, and chickens refused to leave their coops.

Even the insects that usually filled the night with their rhythmic hum were silent, as if the world itself held its breath.

Then, the eclipse began.

A thick shadow crawled across the moon’s surface, devouring its light piece by piece. The crimson hue bled into the darkness, staining the heavens with an unnatural red.

The villagers gathered in fear, staring up at the sky, their hearts pounding.

Mothers clutched their children tightly, elders muttered prayers, and the village chief stood frozen, gripping his staff with trembling hands.

Then came the first scream.

It was a sound so raw, so filled with agony that it sent shivers down every spine. A man collapsed in the center of the village square, writhing as if his very blood had turned to fire.

His veins bulged, darkening beneath his skin, and his eyes rolled back into his skull. His mouth opened in a silent wail before his body convulsed violently, and then, he was still.

A heartbeat later, another scream followed. A woman fell to her knees, clutching her chest as blood poured from her nose and mouth.

Her skin blackened, cracked, and in an instant, she crumbled like ash. Panic spread like wildfire.

People ran, tripping over one another in their desperate attempts to escape. But there was nowhere to go. The air thickened, suffocating them, turning their lungs to stone.

The foreigners had disappeared, leaving behind only empty houses and unanswered questions.

The villagers who had once trusted them now realized too late that they had invited a curse into their homes.

The children who had been saved were the first to succumb. Their bodies twisted unnaturally, their screams morphing into something inhuman before they collapsed, lifeless.

The ground trembled. The houses shook violently, their wooden frames groaning under an unseen force.

Then, the earth cracked. Deep fissures tore through the village, swallowing homes, livestock, and people alike.

A great, unseen weight bore down upon them, pressing them into the ground, crushing bones and shattering souls. And then, the wailing began.

Not from the villagers. No, this was something else. Something beyond human comprehension.

A chorus of voices, distorted and tormented, rose from the depths of the forest.

They sang the same eerie melody that had lured the children away, the song of the cursed moon. It echoed through the ruins of the village, filling the air with despair.

One by one, the villagers fell.

Some clawed at their throats as if something invisible strangled them, others collapsed into fits of violent convulsions before their bodies burst apart, their blood painting the ground in dark, glistening pools.

A few tried to run, their screams lost in the growing cacophony, but the darkness caught them, tendrils of shadow slithering out from the forest, wrapping around their limbs, pulling them into the abyss.

The village burned. Not with fire, but with an eerie, ghostly light. The flames were blue, cold, and unnatural.

They licked at the wooden houses, devouring them without leaving behind any smoke. The air crackled with energy, charged with something unholy.

The spirits of the lost children appeared, their eyes empty voids, their mouths twisted in silent screams.

They hovered above the wreckage, watching as the last remnants of their home turned to dust. The sky continued to darken, the blood-red moon now fully eclipsed.

A deep, guttural growl resonated from the forest, a sound so vast, so filled with hunger, that even the dead seemed to shudder.

A shadow, colossal and monstrous, rose from the trees. It had no true form, just a writhing mass of darkness with piercing, crimson eyes that stared hungrily at the destruction below.

And then, the final moment came.

A deafening silence fell upon the land. The wind stopped, the screams faded, and for a brief moment, it was as if time itself had halted.

The shadow entity lifted its massive form, stretching toward the sky as the eclipse reached its peak. Then, with a soundless explosion, everything collapsed inward.

The village was erased. Not burned, not destroyed, simply gone, as if it had never existed.

The trees that had once surrounded it remained untouched, their ancient boughs swaying gently, as if unaware of the horrors that had just unfolded beneath them.

The air was still. The only trace of the village’s existence was a deep, gaping scar in the earth, blackened and lifeless.

The eclipse ended. The moon’s light returned, pure and silver, bathing the land in its soft glow. The silence stretched on, unbroken by even the whisper of the wind.

And then, the forest sighed. A long, hollow exhale, as if something ancient and satisfied had gone back to sleep.

The shadowed figures retreated, melting into the darkness of the trees, and the night resumed as though nothing had ever happened.

But the land remembered. The soil carried the weight of the lost souls, and the wind that passed through the empty clearing still carried their final, desperate cries.

The village was no more. Its name was lost to time, its people reduced to whispers in the dark. No traveler would ever find it again.

And yet, sometimes, when the moon is full and the wind is just right, a soft melody drifts through the trees. A song, haunting and sweet, calling out to anyone who dares to listen.