I frequently turn to a site that offers daily writing contests—writing.com. I wrote this story according to the following prompt: Write a Thriller/Suspense story (or poem) about a fortune teller who comes to a small village and changes things forever.

The morning began as usual in Briarward, a sleepy village tucked in the folds of a verdant valley. Daybreak arrived with a quiet drizzle, the kind that softened the edges of the world, making everything look slightly blurred. The villagers began their days. Farmers headed to the fields, shopkeepers opened their doors, and children kicked a ball through the cobbled streets.

But the air felt peculiar that morning. A stranger had arrived.

The townsfolk had seen no one like her before, though travelers passed through occasionally. She was an old woman, tall and thin, wrapped in a tattered cloak the color of midnight. Her face, pale and weathered, held an eerily tranquil expression, as though she knew things no one else did.

She called herself Nyx, and she’d come to Briarward with a purpose.

People whispered about her in hushed tones as she made her way through the village square. Some said she was a healer; others thought her a beggar, but no one knew for sure. She carried nothing with her except a small satchel and a bundle of strange, colored stones that glinted in the dull morning light.

It wasn’t long before the rumors began.

“She’s a fortune teller, I hear,” said Jasey, the baker, her voice trembling. “Claims she can see things no one else can.”

“Don’t be daft,” muttered Peiter, the blacksmith, shaking his head. “Fortune tellers ain’t nothing but charlatans, and we got no need for that nonsense here.”

Despite the skepticism, curiosity spread through the village like wildfire. People gathered in small groups, eyeing the old woman from a distance, watching her as she set up a small booth in the town square.

It was a simple setup—a few worn tables and chairs, draped in tattered cloth. But she had an overpowering presence, as though the very air around her hummed with something…otherworldly.

By the time dusk fell, a line had formed.

“Who wants their fortune told?” Nyx’s voice was low and velvety, carrying across the square. It was soft, but firm, as if practiced a thousand times.

Aniya, the schoolteacher, stepped forward first. Though she’d always been a woman of logic and reason, something about Nyx’s calm demeanor tugged at her curiosity. She sat down at the table, trying to ignore the way the villagers watched her, their eyes filled with hope and fear.

“Tell me, child,” Nyx said, her gaze locking onto Aniya’s. “What is it you seek?”

“I…” Aniya hesitated. “I seek knowledge. I want to know if my life will always be as it is now, so small. So…unremarkable.”

Nyx smiled. “Your life is only unremarkable because you believe it is. You’ve not yet discovered your true path.”

The fortune teller reached into her satchel and pulled out a small, smooth stone. She placed it on the table in front of Aniya. The stone shimmered with an iridescent glow, and for a moment, Aniya thought she saw something moving inside it—an image, a fleeting vision.

Aniya blinked, her heart racing. Was that…her face?

“Go home,” Nyx said. “And you will understand.”

With that, Aniya stood, a chill running down her spine. The words lingered in her mind, but she could not shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

The following evening, something indeed happened.

As Aniya walked to her cottage under the dim light of the setting sun, she noticed a figure standing by the edge of the forest. It was Nyx, her silhouette outlined against the darkening sky. The old woman’s eyes gleamed with an unsettling intensity as Aniya approached.

“Did you understand?” Nyx asked.

“I… I don’t know what you mean,” Aniya stammered, her pulse quickening.

“You will,” Nyx said cryptically, then turned and disappeared into the shadows of the trees.

That night, Aniya had a vivid, haunting dream. She saw herself standing in the village square, where Nyx had set up her booth. But this time, the villagers’ faces twisted in horror, their eyes widening in fear. Aniya couldn’t move; her mind raced as an icy wind howled around her. Then, she saw it—a shadow, looming over them all.

The vision faded, and Aniya woke, gasping for breath.

The next day, Briarward began changing.

First, it was small things—a few villagers found their homes ransacked, though nothing had gone missing. Others heard strange noises in the dead of night, whispers carried by the wind. But then, people started behaving differently. The once peaceful village grew tense, as if an invisible force had settled among them, watching and waiting.

Nyx remained in the square, unbothered by the growing unease. Every day, a new villager sat across from her, and each left with a strange, empty look in their eyes. Some spoke of feeling…different after their readings. Others were too frightened to speak at all.

By the end of the week, a shadow had descended on Briarward. Farmers avoided their fields, claiming they heard footsteps behind them. Children stopped playing in the streets, their laughter replaced by a quiet, unnerving silence.

It wasn’t until Tomas, the village elder, visited Nyx that things took a dark turn.

“I’ve lived in this village for more than sixty years,” Tomas said, his voice heavy with authority. “I’ve seen many things, but I’ve never seen anyone like you. What is it you want?”

Nyx’s gaze softened, and for the first time since her arrival, her voice held a note of sorrow. “I want nothing, old man. I’m here to deliver a message. One you’ll soon understand.”

With that, she reached into her satchel and pulled out a stone, identical to the one she’d given Aniya. She handed it to Tomas, her eyes locked onto his.

The moment his fingers brushed the stone, a terrible tremor passed through him. His breath hitched, and his eyes widened in recognition.

“No…” he whispered. “No, this can’t be.”

Before Nyx could speak, Tomas collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. His hands clawed at his chest as if something inside him were tearing him apart.

The villagers rushed to his side, but there was nothing they could do. The old man died in seconds, his body still twitching as if caught in the grip of some unseen force.

Nyx stood over him, unmoving.

“You see now,” she breathed. “This is the price of ignorance.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving the villagers to their terror.

Briarward would never be the same. Something dark had awakened, and no one knew how to stop it. All they could do was wait, for Nyx had come with a purpose. And whether they liked it or not, they would soon learn what it was.

By then, it might already be too late.