The town of Blackwater is built on a fault line
between the old world and the new. In 1922,
after the War of Independence, the land itself
shifts—fields rearrange overnight, buildings
appear where none stood before. The people speak
of a pact made in the 1916 Rising, when a poet
traded his soul for the right to see what others
cannot: the truth behind the bloodshed.
Cian O’Rourke, a sculptor with a war wound that
never heals, returns to his childhood home after
years in London. His hands, once steady, now
tremble. He sees shadows in the walls, hears
whispers in the wind. The locals avoid him, but
he knows the truth: the pact is real, and it has
not yet finished.
He begins carving statues of the dead, each one
more lifelike than the last. The townsfolk claim
they move at night. Cian dismisses it as grief.
But when a child vanishes from her bed, and the
police find no sign of her, the town turns on
him. The priest warns him to leave before the
revolution repeats itself.
Cian discovers a hidden chamber beneath the old
courthouse, where the original pact was sealed.
The terms are clear: for every life he claims,
he gains a year of clarity. But the price is
steep. He has already used five years. The next
will cost him everything.
On the eve of the 1923 Civil War, Cian stands at
the crossroads of two worlds. The land cracks
open, revealing a path to the past. He must
choose: return to London and live with the
silence, or stay and face the truth of what he
has become.
The final statue is carved. It stands in the
square, eyes wide, mouth open in a silent scream.
The next morning, the town is empty. No bodies,
no signs of struggle. Only the wind, carrying
the sound of a hundred voices, and the weight of
a broken pact.
