Capítulo 254: Chapter 254
The air was thick with dread, but no one really knew why. Not the travelers, not the farmers, not the people who lived in cities or the ones who stayed hidden away in far corners of the world. The sky itself had changed. It wasn't blue anymore; not the same vibrant hue that had comforted people for centuries. It was an unnatural gray, sometimes turning to an oily black when the bird appeared. The bird.
It was said to be the size of fifty large planes, a grotesque thing that tore through the air, its massive wings like blackened cliffs cutting into the sky. It came down once a month, descending from its shadowed perch far above the clouds, and it brought death with it.
The people who had seen it didn't speak much. Those who lived in the high places, on the mountaintops or in the cities that were too far from the ground to feel the bird's terror, they laughed. They thought it was a superstition, something told to children to keep them from wandering at night. They were wrong. Those who were close enough to the earth, who felt the tremors when it passed by, learned quickly that the stories weren't lies. The bird was real. And it wasn't something that could be avoided.
Every month, it would make its descent. The shadows that trailed it were long and heavy, swallowing villages whole. People saw it coming, felt the air change as the temperature dropped. The sun would disappear, and the wind would die in its wake. Then, there would be silence—terrifying silence—and the creature would arrive.
A man named Caleb lived in one of the few remaining towns that could not escape the bird's hunger. The houses in this town were small, their walls weak against the shifting winds. Caleb didn't mind it much. He was used to the harshness of the world. But he was getting tired. Too many people had gone missing. Too many had been taken in the middle of the night. And it wasn't just the animals anymore.
It was a week before the bird's next arrival. Caleb could feel it in the bones of the earth, a heavy, unnatural pressure pressing down on the town. He could feel it in his dreams, too. The way the bird's wings cut through the air, the strange sound of its shriek, the way the sky turned black as it swooped down and picked out its prey. No one ever spoke about it openly, but there were whispers—always whispers—about the things it ate.
Some claimed it was human. Others said it was only animals. But those who had lived through it knew better. The bird didn't care. It took whatever it wanted. It wasn't particular.
The people of the town prepared as best they could, boarding up windows, hiding inside, hoping that this time, it wouldn't come for them. Caleb had his routine: check the locks, gather whatever food he had, and wait. There was no fighting it. No running from it. You just had to wait for the bird to pass by.
The night before it came, Caleb walked out to the edge of town. His eyes were drawn upward, towards the sky that seemed to grow darker every day. The clouds were thick, swirling together like a giant mass of smoke. He thought he saw something—something large, something black—cutting through the clouds, but it was gone before he could focus on it.
He turned and headed back to his house. The wind had begun to stir, but there was no comfort in it anymore. It felt wrong, like a warning. He locked the door behind him and settled down on the floor, his back against the wall. He tried to sleep, but it was useless. The air in the house was too still.
The bird came the next night.
It wasn't sudden. The sky darkened first, and then the air began to tremble. The wind howled through the trees, bending them to the ground. Caleb heard it before he saw it—the heavy thud of the bird's wings as it began its descent. The ground shook beneath him, and he knew then that it wasn't a superstition. It wasn't a tale spun by frightened mothers. It was real.
The bird was coming.
The town was silent. There were no screams, no frantic movements. The people had learned that it was useless. They hid in their homes, prayed, and waited for it to pass. Caleb's breath caught in his chest as he stared out the window, watching the sky blacken. His heart pounded. He could see it now—dark wings, wide and unforgiving, blotting out the stars. The bird had come.
Caleb knew he wouldn't be able to stay inside, not now. The bird always chose one. It always selected its prey. The thought gripped him with fear. He'd seen people taken before. The last time, they hadn't even had time to scream. One moment they were standing in the street, the next—they were gone.
He stepped outside.
The cold air slapped his face, and he squinted against the wind. The bird was high above now, a shadow that blotted out the rest of the world. Caleb could feel the pressure in his chest, the weight of its presence pressing down on him. The ground trembled, and in the distance, he could hear something—a sound like a distant crack, followed by a series of heavy thuds. The bird was close.
A scream pierced the night. It wasn't a scream of terror. It was something else, something primal, something full of agony. Caleb turned his head towards the sound.
It came from the town center.
He hesitated, but there was nothing he could do. The bird had chosen.
The screams stopped abruptly. Caleb's heart pounded in his ears as he ran towards the source. He tried to ignore the horrible feeling that clenched at his gut, the awareness that he was too late, that the bird had already taken what it wanted.
He reached the town center, but there was nothing. No blood, no sign of struggle. Just a single figure lying in the street, face down in the dirt.
It was a child. A small girl, no more than ten years old.
Her body was limp.
Caleb could hardly breathe. He knew what had happened. The bird had come for her. He didn't know how long he stood there, staring at the motionless body. The pressure in the air was unbearable, pressing down on him with an almost physical force. His head felt light, his vision swaying.
And then, he heard it.
A sound that was both familiar and alien. The sound of wings, massive and terrifying, sweeping through the air. The bird had come for him.
He looked up, but all he saw was darkness. The sky was no longer a sky. It was just an endless, suffocating void. He could hear the bird moving through it, closing in on him with every beat of its wings. There was nowhere to hide, no escape. It was too late.
The ground trembled as the bird's shadow fell over him, and he knew then that it would not just take him—it would destroy him. It would tear through him like it had with the others. It would feast on him, and then it would move on, leaving nothing behind but an empty, broken shell of a man.
Caleb didn't fight it. He couldn't. The bird was too big, too powerful. All he could do was wait for it to come.
The last thing he heard before everything went silent was the flapping of its wings. And then, there was only the darkness.
The next morning, the people of the town found Caleb's body. It was nothing like they had expected. The bird had taken him, but it had left his body behind, twisted and mangled, his limbs broken, his face unrecognizable. There were no marks on his skin. No blood. No evidence of the bird's assault.
Just the body.
And that was the thing about the bird. It didn't leave survivors. It didn't care about the pain it caused. It just took, and it moved on.
Estado de energía semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Piedra de
Poder