Haven’s Reach: Whispers in the Dark
By the time autumn winds swept across the island, Brant Harrow’s “First Rules” had been etched into daily life. They weren’t written on parchment or stone, but repeated so often that they became second nature.
At first, the people complied out of respect. Later, they complied out of habit. And slowly, they began to comply out of fear.
It started small. A fisherman’s wife was overheard criticizing the Council for rationing nets unfairly. Days later, her family’s hut was mysteriously stripped of its lantern oil. Her husband’s catch was rejected at the communal market. There was no official punishment or public decree. It was just a quiet reminder of who held sway.
Families learned to whisper in the dark, if they whispered at all. Children were warned not to repeat what their parents said at home. Laughter around the fire grew more careful, guarded, as though shadows themselves carried ears.
Yet not all were cowed. A young teacher named Elara began meeting secretly with her students in the caves near the shoreline. She reminded them of the island’s first days. During those times, the people worked freely together. Voices rang out with no fear of reprisal. She called it
“The Memory.”
“Don’t let them take The Memory from you,”
She urged.
“Because when the memory dies, so do we.”
Above them, in the Council chamber, Brant Harrow and his circle drew lines on a map of the island. They were dividing it into districts.
“Control the land,”
He muttered,
“And we control the people.”
Unseen and unspoken, the first embers of resistance flickered in Haven’s Reach.
By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | ©2025
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