Part I: Midnight

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The golden light of another day had begun to fade. Slowly sunshine was lost to the oncoming veil of darkness that crept across the lands and seas, silent and steady. Beneath the pastel-coloured sky lay a small town that had been forgotten by the rest of the world, a town that was isolated and aged. Within that town a door was opened as a young girl drifted out into the one long and winding street. Behind her the door clicked shut, its old dilapidated building sighing as though tired, as did most structures in the town of Journey's End. It was a peculiar name for a town, but fitting.

Journey's End lay enclosed by a surrounding of towering snow-capped mountains with only one way in and one way out. There was a train line down by the icy sea front that brought people to and from the old town, but mostly from. Not many wished to live in such a place, however that was not to say that Journeys End was a bad place as such, but more so as a result of its many bizarre ways and rules, one of which was most unusual;

The Rule of Midnight.

It said that no person was to be out of doors at or past the hour of midnight on any occasion. All windows were to be shut, curtains pulled and doors closed, there were no exceptions. In days gone by few had failed to abide by this rule, and these few had never been seen or heard from again. They had vanished; it would seem, from both the town and memory. Not a living soul in Journeys End was certain as to what it was that happened at midnight in their town, yet nobody questioned it either. Rules were made to be followed and this was the strictest of them all.

"Good evening, madam."

All throughout the long and winding street of Journeys End people bustled about their business. The buildings that sat on either side of the cobbled road loomed high above the crowds, their dusty lancet windows like watchful eyes. Each structure had been painted black once upon a time, but the colour was fading now, peeling away.

"How do you do?"

It was a rare thing for people to stop and exchange pleasantries or make idle conversation, there was not enough time. A clock ticked relentlessly like a heartbeat in the background and echoed throughout the days like a constant reminder of transience; nothing would last forever, time continued to move on.

Snow descended from the heavens above in a dance that rose and fell across the frozen evening sky now drained of colour but for the darkness. The last train of the evening was now leaving the station, hissing as it began to move along the snow-kissed tracks. It moved slowly at first, shaking uncertainty as the wheels made the first turns of their journey, then the speed increased and soon the train was lost in a haze of grey smoke and fading noise until it became nothing more than a dot in the distance leaving behind the strange town of Journeys End.

The girl had come to watch as the train moved away and out into the unknown. She imagined herself as one of its passengers travelling to the lands beyond. It was an adventure she could only ever dream of having. The girl, who wore a grey dress that came to her knees, carried in her hands a woven basket that was empty now. Her hair fell in gentle curls almost to her waist and was a warm brown, just like her eyes. The girls name was Wynter Rhodes. Wynter was an orphan. She lived in one of the tall run-down buildings at the end of the street along with the other children like her, but she was the eldest, hardly a child anymore and so was burdened with endless workloads day after day in order to keep her shelter. There was no room in the orphanage for the likes of Wynter anymore though leaving hardly seemed frightening, it could almost have been an exciting prospect if she had somewhere to go. Wynter had no money and no family, not anymore.

Sometime not long after Wynter had turned just two years of age, her parents - wealthy folk who came from a place far from where she was now - had perished in a travelling accident, an overturned ship in the midst of a storm. They had never returned to Journeys End for their only daughter, but Wynter had barely known them, she could hardly remember any small detail, a laugh, a voice, not the touch of a hand or a mother's gentle hum while she rested. Wynter had then been raised by an uncle, a resident of Journeys End with whom she had been staying at the time of her parent's unfortunate deaths. He had been as good as any father, as kind and loving as any child could have wished though he had little money to provide for them both with.

For Wynter, his disappearance had been the most heart-breaking of all.

All along the cobbled road streetlights burst into life as the night settled. Wynter felt her eyelids flutter with exhaustion as she breathed in and out tasting the sea on her lips. It was like a ritual of hers to come here every night just as the people became silent and the world came alive. Waves broke gently along the shore and the white wooden fence that separated her from the sea seemed to glow softly in the dark of night. She sat upon the same bench and gazed into nothing while allowing her mind to wander. The world beyond was so mysterious, she wondered if it was beautiful or dangerous. Did snow cover that world as it did hers? What were their rules like beyond Journeys End? The sea could be ever so calming; it almost drowned out the ticking in the town behind which suddenly reminded Wynter to be conscious of the time, though it was barely ten.

She had plenty of time...

...Silence was most definitely golden as one did not get to often enjoy it except for at night. Time ticked on and Wynter grew more weary, her eyes were sliding shut and her breathing was becoming heavier with each passing minute. She was blissfully unaware of the oncoming danger.
In her dreams brought on by a full day's work, Wynter saw herself climbing through the snow of Journeys End as she made her way to the mountains that bordered the town. The snow was thick and deep, still falling as she began her perilous climb. The mountains could be used as a way out of Journeys End, but nobody was desperate enough to attempt the climb. Ice made the rock slippery and untrustworthy, shards poked from all edges, sharp as broken glass. Yet Wynter was for some reason determined. Her footing was shaky, hands too cold to support her body up the steep mountain face and the feeling of fear was growing in the pit of her stomach. She was running out of time.
The town clock beat like some calling from Hell behind her growing louder and louder, faster and faster as it approached. Beneath Wynter's hands an unbearable heat was rising up. The ice was melting. The sound of a new hour rang out on the clocks, time was up and with a cry Wynter fell with incredible speed down, down, down...

With a jolt Wynter hit the ground, or rather she awoke from the terrible dream, yet the anxiety remained, as did the clock chimes. She had fallen asleep and with a feeling of dread turned to find she was alone.

'What time is it?'

Wynter sprang to her feet and ran.

The street was empty and all throughout each door of every building was shut, curtains pulled. The streetlights overhead seemed to race her as one by one they faded into absolute darkness that consumed the path behind. Wynter bolted towards the light. The first chimes were a warning; she had barely five minutes until midnight to get indoors. The gates of the orphanage soon came into view but they were, unsurprisingly, shut and locked. Surely someone had realised she was missing, but then it was a way to be rid of her just as Mrs. Archer, the owner, had so clearly wanted. With all the strength she could muster Wynter grabbed at the rusty iron gate with both hands and shook frantically.

"Help!" she called. "Mrs. Archer!"

There was nothing in response.

As each precious second ticked by Wynter's heart beat faster, tears began to blur her vision as she entered into blind panic. The iron gate groaned beneath her rigid fingers but no sound could match the volume of that horrendous ticking behind her. The final lights began to flicker over Wynter's head and she stopped, frozen in fear. As the light died, Wynter was plunged into the blackness and any hope she had held slowly too deteriorated. Then behind her came a sudden sound that cut through the clock and she spun to meet it, eyes wide.

A shadowy figure watched her from a doorway.

"What are you doing?" It cried above the noise. "Get indoors, girl!"

"Wait!"

Wynter's plea was lost to the few concluding chimes of the clocks' countdown, the loudest of all; a final caution. She threw out her arms to draw attention, yet the door was already closing even as she drew closer. It swung shut in her face, the sound of locks from within slid into place and echoed across the shadows.
All was silent now on the street.

Midnight had come.

Wynter backed away from the door out into the centre of the street, her footsteps loud enough to wake the dead. Somewhere overhead a crow shrieked a noise that seemed to Wynter like sinister laughter. She was very much alone now in the dark, the shadows were her only company; and it was midnight. She had unintentionally broken the one rule of Journeys End that needed to be followed or she could be in great danger. Few before had broken the Rule of Midnight.

And these few had never been seen or heard from again.

A great flurry of wings overhead made Wynter jump, the black birds circled like she was their prey, their bodies threw shadows across the street, their piercing eyes glittered in the night. An eerie silence hung in the bitter air and as Wynter began to slowly move away she felt snow catch in her eyelashes, and yet somehow it didn't feel cold, almost hot. Wynter touched her face delicately, rubbed her eyes and felt the 'snow' crumble away like ash. Out toward the sea a red glow was rising and creeping up the narrow road of Journeys End to where Wynter stood. Beneath her the earth abruptly shook so ferociously that huge jagged cracks cut their way into the ground bringing with them that same crimson flare. A wave of horror crashed over Wynter as she watched as her world become something unrecognisable. The street grew long and winding, the buildings twisted and contorted and grew to touch the apocalyptic red sky where the crows danced. The sound of wings was intense, they beat like a drum and with it the sound of the birds rose like some horrible choir from the underworld. Wynter turned away from the blood-red world and ran into a lane beside the orphanage which now stood like some great Gothic ruin. Her own bedroom window was visible from here, though it seemed foreign to her now.

Behind her the crows followed as she tore up the alley. They picked at her skin, her clothes, laughing as they went. Wynter cried out in dismay and threw herself behind the bins that overflowed with something of a rotten smell. The air was alive with ominous whisperings and evil sounds. Wynter was trapped, her heart threatened to explode from her chest as the noises increased to unbearable new heights. All around her the earth shook, Wynter pressed her hands up to cover her ears. The space she was in became tighter and tighter with every passing second, there was no choice but to run.

Now.

With a final burst of energy Wynter rose to her feet and sprinted away into nothingness. The lane was long and new and she could only hope there was something at the end of it.
Was the world beginning to spin or was it just her?
With a split second to spare before impact Wynter's hands sprang out to meet the brick wall that ended her path. She had nowhere left to run.

Turning, Wynter saw the mass of birds soaring to meet her above the red mists. They were scaly creatures with claws as sharp as a blade and wings like nothing she had seen before. They were not of her world, but of this one where she was now trapped.

Sinking to her knees Wynter squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the impact of a thousand talons. They drew closer, closer, closer. She wondered if this was the end.

And then she was flying.

The air whipped around her as a single shrill cry filled the night. It send a chill through her entire body, drew a scream from within herself that even she could not hear.

Is this the end?

If so, where was the pain?

Was the world fading away as the sounds grew quieter or was it she who was fading away? Yet she felt so alive.

She was alive.

Wynter landed with a thump. A new sort of silence hung over her, a calm and warm one. She landed upon a hard surface, not the ground though, it was smooth. Floorboards. She was inside somewhere. Slowly Wynter opened her eyes.

The orphanage.

Her room.

She was indeed back indoors.

"It isn't safe to be out after hours, but I'm sure you knew that already."

The voice that spoke to her was male, unfamiliar. Wynter lifted a startled head to meet the eyes of a stranger who carried a smirk upon his pale face.

"Lucky I was there to save you, miss." He said. "Though I doubt you're out of danger just yet. No, I think for you the danger is just beginning."

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