Silence...is not a sign of weakness, it never was, and never will be, it is a sign of strength, often mistaken as weakness. Silence taught the people to endure the sufferings the world might throw at them, and fight back when the moment is right, it is a true friend who never betrays, and will always be there for you when you need it.
At least, that is what he has been telling himself, over and over again.
His paws pressed uncomfortably against the hard, wet concrete floor of the hallway, scattered with cracks and pioneering weeds, the teal paint over the soft wood walls peel off at random depths, showing wooden planks they are meant to protect, now black and rotten. No dust or debris remains on the floor, for they have been swept away by the wind and rain that found their way through the sagged and eroded concrete roof, slowly but surely, nature is reclaiming its place. What was once a mighty creation of steel and concrete is now a lifeless ruin, pounded by every storm and snowfall that has been here since the time its inhabitants abandoned it. Columns of sunlight made their way through the cracks on the roof, dispersing the shadows that had once cast over walls, the air inside the building is surprisingly fresh instead of the wetness that you would expect out of an abandoned estate, it has the feel of a medieval castle with none of the charm. Long ago this floor must have been layered with polished wood, it walls must have been decorated with photographs and paintings, people bumping into each other in the hallways, saying their greetings or goodbyes. Now, nothing except for an empty shell remained, this building is a husk of its former self, like a marathon runner who insists on running even after the race is over.
Sighing once again, the Umbreon regretted his decision to enter the city, the chances are he will be much more comfortable if he had just stayed in the wilderness that is slowly devouring this lost place. Despite the general consensus that Umbreon are more commonly found in urban areas than out in the forest, his species are quite as not adapted to the urban environment as many expected them to, his paws are aching from all the walking across the hard, man-made surfaces, not matter if it is asphalt, concrete or steel columns, they all caused him great discomfort. He would take the time when he was out in the forest with a rainstorm pouring down on him a few weeks ago over this, at least that way, it will be much easier on his paws.
The Interior of this building, unlike the countless other abandoned human estates he visited before, is strangely barricaded at all places. Aside from the entrance of this apartment flat, nearly every single door inside this building is held in place by some sort of locking mechanism directly bolted onto it, like someone didn't want anything to get into these rooms… Or they didn't want whatever is in these rooms to get out. He did not attempt to break into any of the rooms, not because he can't, some doors have rotten to a point where a few knocks would send it crashing down onto the ground; It is because he felt like he shouldn't, these doors are bolted down for a reason, and he is in no mood to test his luck in a foreign world, perhaps these doors are better off remain locked for his own protection. The few which weren't locked didn't provide him with any valuable information or context as to what happened in this city, they just contain pieces of furniture, abandoned by their residents, rotten and rusted, just like everything else in this building. He did find one soggy piece of newspaper lying on one of the tables, but its printed words are blurred and faded, too distorted for him to make anything out… if this planet's inhabitants even speak a language he could recognize.
Another unlocked door gradually revealed itself to him, the lock that was meant to keep it closed lies a few feet away, shattered by blunt force. the bright red paint that once covered the door has faded into an unnatural pink, large fragments have already peeled off, leaving the splintered door bare and exposed, only a few patches of paint remained on the board, like a group of soldiers holding their last post, even if the battle is already lost. It hangs ajar on its brass hinges, creaking as he gently pressed his front paw against its moist frame. Vines of Ivy squeezed their way through the door's upper skirts, draping over the door like a fine layer of tapestry made by nature.
He took a deep breath and pushed into the door, but he encountered unexpected resistance, even though the door had been pried open, its hinges have seen so much rain and snow to the point where they have rusted over, whoever entered here must did it a long time ago. He laid down his paws and pushed into his shoulders into the weary board, it worked as the rusty hinges start to turn.
Well, not for long.
A sudden, sharp snapping noise caused him to seize up and jerked away from the door, as the half opened door start to slowly swung backwards, before smashing full force onto the floorboards behind it, breaking the silence that hung like a cloak across the building, the hinges of the door must have cracked and given away under the force of his push. He coughed a few times as he was assaulted by a cloud of dust and a strong stench of mold, rather displeased as the sound could attract unwanted attention to him, despite the fact that he had not seen a single organism since he first arrived, besides the trees and grasses that invaded the roads and streets.
He walked over the fallen door and entered the room, or at least, what is left of it. It was a bedroom of some sort, only made evident by an empty, ancient iron bed frame tucked away in the corner of the room, about to collapse under its own weight, someone must have taken the mattress for their own use, or it had decayed away long ago. The room no longer has a ceiling, it most likely had caved into the room, though no debris of any sort could be found on the long untrodden floorboards, only fragments of plaster, soaked in the seasonal rain, ivies are reaching down into the room, already overrunning the upper edges of the walls and Kitchen Cupboards. Two of its outer walls have been reduced to rubble, cracked, ruined, smeared with mosses, both dead and alive, the concrete floor gave away as well, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. Sunlight shone through the gaps in the structure, giving the forgotten room some sort of liveliness, but its brightness is not pleasant to the Umbreon's eyes, it was not the kind of brightness that warms your skin and heart, but one that blurs and distort your vision, forcing you to close your eyes or take the risk of going blind, the kind that would make the fresh snow on the summit of mountains look colourless and dull.
Despite the harsh sunlight, he walked up to the edge of the ruined wall, and looked out, seeing a full view of the forsaken city for the first time. From here, the city appears relatively normal, but under closer inspection, something is horribly wrong, it has a feeling of cold and emptiness, making it less like a city, more like a forest made out of concrete and steel, lifeless. Roads in the distance leading out of the city are littered with cars, burned out and abandoned, stretching on for miles without end. Vines crept up the streetlights and signs transforming them into a pillar of green, trees and wild flower grew wild on the roads, laid down like a carpet, spanning across the city, as if waiting for a guest that will never arrive. Torn banners with blurred slogans hang on the remains of buildings, standing in defiance, refusing to follow the footsteps of their inhabitants, for now at least, in the end, they will all become dust in the wind. The only sound that could be heard is the wind, passing down the streets, howling, like a lone man screaming out his sorrow and misery. To the left, there is the clock tower, or what is left of it anyways, half of it had collapsed, leaving it hanging in the air, waiting for the right moment to crumble down, its pointers are forever stuck at a quarter past one, if he had stood still, then perhaps time had indeed frozen in place, a city lost in the abyss of time.
The intense light eventually forced him away from the opening, his eyes have gone slightly watery from the exposure, Umbreon can handle a normal dose of sunlight without any side effects, but at a higher intensity, they cannot last very long without taking a break to protect their light sensitive eyes. Returning his attention to the interior of the room, he began to look for any information that is of use to him, perhaps a piece of newspaper that would tell him what exactly happened in this city.
The room is far from dusty, it is wet and moldy, a couple of small puddles had gathered in the dents of the floorboards, it probably had rained the day before he arrived. Mosses and vines blanketed over nearly every surface like a layer of mouldy snow, a small pile of ruined books remained in a tall bookshelf tucked away in the corner, hugging the wall, old and basic but it still maintained its integrity, shielded from the wind and rainfall by the remnants of the roof, shafts of light sneaked their way through gaps in the heavy curtains of green that hang over the windows, an old coffee mug lay on a writing desk, thickly encrusted with dried up mould, all are ancient artifacts of someone's life, hastily abandoned.
With a forceful push from his hind legs, he hopped onto the wooden chair in front of the writing desk, trying to get a clear view of the desktop itself, to see if there is anything else left behind other than that dusty coffee mug, after confirming the chair is not going to give out on his weight, he began searching for objects of interest on the table. Much to his dismay, there seems to be nothing of interest to him on the table, most of it lies hidden under a thick layer of ivy that had found its own up the table's legs and gradually inched themselves over the desk, areas of the tabletop not covered by the ivy reeked the acrid smell of decomposing wood, the stench was strange, yet nauseating. Having no luck with the tabletop, the Umbreon turned his attention to the desk's drawer, its handle no longer exists, making it more like a brick of wood stuffed into the desk to fill an empty space than a drawer, but no matter with or without a handle, he will open them the all same, there is a good chance that whatever is left in there will be intact, seeing how the drawers provided its contents with shelter from wind and rain.
His eyes started to glow with the soft blue light, as the drawer begin to quiver under the force of his mental grasp. It took a lot more effort that he originally expected to pull out the drawer from its former position in the table, "The railings inside must have tarnished over the years." He thought to himself as he increased the flow of psychic energy pulling the drawer, eventually, in this tug war between friction and pull, the pulling force emerged victories as the drawer slowly slide out of the table, revealing its contents to the broad daylight.
… There is actually way less content in the drawer than what he anticipated, a pen with a missing cap lied in the corner, drained of the liquid which allows it to weave stories and tales, a scissor with its blades replace by a small heap of rusted metal, a roll of soggy paper fabric that resembles tape, a cheap necklace made out of small organ glass spheres… But none of these objects caught his attention as he spotted something on the top left corner that could be of important use to him: A small notebook with a plain leather cover, sitting there, waiting to be discovered, the golden letters on the cover have faded, but he can still make out the word, "Journal". He carefully lifted the notebook from its original position using psychic, placing it on the tabletop in front of him, with a push of his paw, he slammed the drawer back into the table, causing it to shake but luckily did not break, now that is taken care of, he returned his attention to the small notebook in front of him.
The notebook sat still on the wooden table. It wasn't particularly large or thick, but inside may lay the answer to all of this, to what happened in this city. He looked down at the book's battered leather surface, held closed with a thin string that is about to break. He stood there, unmoving, carefully considering his options, do he really want to know what happened? He had seen enough tragedy at this point of his journey, different worlds, different scenarios,but they all ended the same way, in silence, this world is no exception. Sure, curiosity killed the cat, and he is a caine, but that rule still applies to him. Eventually, his curiosity won out against his caution, he muttered, "...Well, here goes nothing.", flipping the cover over with his breaking the thin string that is desperately trying to protect the secret inside. Its pages are of a brittle yellow, covered in untidy, looping, convoluted handwriting, making it hard to read anything, if the author of this dairy is even trying to write something tangible, the same handwriting covered a few pages in the notebook, but eventually, he found the start of same tangible writing after flipping through a dozen pages of nonsense, it looks like the author finally put some effort into writing this journal, or it had exchanged hands and someone else is now using this notebook. The Umbreon read through the entry as he slowly muttered them out to himself.
"Seventeen ninety-four, July the forty-second," This world doesn't use the same calendar as his world, he thought, on the page it just says "1794/7/42", there is no telling if the last two digits even represent months and days, for now, he can only presume the numbers represent date the same way as his world, he continued on.
"Man, the past few weeks sucked, I don't know what the hell is wrong with the Government here, but why would they start to enforce regulations on food and sales of goods? I heard they are going to start imposing curfew across the city in a few weeks time, what are they doing? We are not at war, we are not facing any disasters and there is nothing abnormal on the news lately, it is truly baffling, and if they are putting regulations on everything, why not cancel school as well? I still have to go to school! Anyways, it is getting late, and I don't want parents to catch me staying up late, peace out!"
So something was beginning to happen here, something bad, but even the city's inhabitants don't know what is actually happening, the Government here was trying to cover something up, or preparing something. "Perhaps the following entries will provide some answer." He thought as he flipped to the next page and read on, there are two entries on this page.
"Seventeen ninety-four, August the third.
Something, something is definitely wrong, why is the military entering the city? What are they doing here? We face no war, no threat, why are they, why are they digging in? There is nothing on the news! What are they hiding from us? School has stopped, normally I would cheer in happiness, but I can't, they are preparing for something to come, something bad on an unimaginable scale.
God Save us all."
"Seventeen ninety-four, August the seventh.
The major just ordered a city-wide evacuation to the West, the Capital, they still haven't told us anything, not even a proper reason as to why any of this is happening, but there are rumors that the entire eastern part of the country has fallen, to what? No one knows for sure. They told us that eventually, everything would be alright, but do I really believe them anymore? I don't know. The evacuation is proceeding by city blocks, and it won't reach us until tomorrow, at least that gave me a bit more time to pack up."
Remembering that long line of cars on the highway outside, abandoned and burned, it appears that the evacuation didn't go as planned and something went horribly wrong during the process, meaning the author of this journal most likely didn't survive. He turned to the next page, quite eager to read up on other entries the author wrote in this journal.
He found none.
The next page is smeared with ink and rippled, near impossible to read the sentences that had been written, he can only make out a few very vague symbols that resemble words, "Coming… Break… Lost… and Failure," He muttered, whatever was the original entry on this page, he was certain it had something to do with the fall of this city. He quickly flipped through the next few pages, only to find that they are all in the same or similar condition: Smeared or covered in ink, pages are either rippled, or just straight up torn in half, he kept in turning the pages until he reached… Blankness.
The page he is looking at now is crisp and clean, not a single mark or crease on its almost perfectly flat surface, so white to the point where it is almost painful to look, it creeped him out, there is no way that these pages belong in this book, but yet here they are, lying still in front of him, as if all the horrors the was written beforehand were mere an illusion. He slammed the notebook shut, still unable to believe what he had just seen, disbelief and doubt washed over him like waves under the full moon, followed by a sense of eeriness, but he refuses to let these emotions get the better of him. After shaking his head in an attempt to clear his mind, he levitated the book off the table using psychic and pushed it into the pouches on his sides, thank god it is small enough to fit in there, it has almost become a tradition for him to bring a piece of item from a world that he visited, to pocket them in his chest back home as keepsakes, objects to remind him of the adventures he experienced, good or bad, he wants to have a way to remember them.
Thump
Tap
He jumped at the sudden sound echoing from the hallway he just left, making his fur stand up on end, the compound should be empty, he was sure of it as he didn't hear any abnormal sounds until now, the sound echoing down the concrete walls are in no doubt footsteps. His ears perked up towards the direction of the doorway, listening in for more sounds. He wait in silence, but no more noise came beside the initial two, perhaps it is just water dripping onto the-
The steps resumed, getting more rapid and disorganized the closer it is to the room, they have the wet sound of someone walking on mud, each and every footfall is chaotically spaced from the last, with no rhythm or audible pattern at all, as if the person approaching have never learned how to properly walk, a stumbling noise could then be heard, followed by a scumble of scratching and animalistic grunting before the steps resumed. Whatever is coming this way is something he do not wish to face at this point, he needs to leave this world now, before it is all too late
He looked up at ceiling… or what is left of it, making sure that there are no obstacles between him and the sky, and surely enough, there wasn't anything standing between him and the sky. Now knowing that his escape plan will not fail, he closed his eyes and reached for that specific energy residing within his body. The creature is getting closer by the seconds, by now he can begin to hear its ragged breaths and grunts, but he knows that he will be well out of its grasp by the time it gets here. A soft blue light begins to cover the Umbreon's form, until his form is no longer visible in the aura of light, then abruptly, the little light show ended, and the Umbreon is now nowhere to be seen.