The Stones of Morreo: A Haunting Supernatural Tale of Sacrifice

Long ago, in the proud coastal city of Morreo, the rulers envisioned a grand promenade by the sea—a place where market days could thrive, festivals could be celebrated, and musicians, actors, and dancers could perform under bright pavilions for citizens of every rank, rich or poor. It was to be a space of unity, a heartbeat of the city, stretching along the shoreline.

Yet the coast of Morreo was cursed with shifting sands that stretched for miles, and the stones that could be found there were so soft they crumbled like stale bread. No craftsman could build upon them, and so the city’s builders searched far and wide for a solution. The Towers, the lords of Morreo, declared a rich reward for anyone who could secure a foundation sturdy enough to hold the promenade.

Many tried. All failed.

But then one night, a humble stone mason, weary from his work and frustrations, drifted into a dream so vivid it felt more real than waking life. In this dream, the deep stones beneath the sea spoke to him in grave, rumbling voices.

“Would you help us rise from the deep and become a place of beauty?” the stones asked.

“I would,” the mason answered. “Whatever it takes.”

The stones then whispered a riddle:
“Strength alone will not raise us. Seek the place where a lone palm tree stands. There you will find what must be sacrificed to awaken us.”

At dawn, the mason combed the endless coast until he saw it: a solitary palm tree, its leaves swaying gently above the sands. Beneath its roots lay a white seal, stranded and helpless. The mason captured it and hurried to the Towers, recounting his dream and discovery.

Without hesitation, the lords uprooted the palm tree and sacrificed the white seal, spilling its blood into the earth. As the blood seeped into the ground, a miracle occurred—the sands parted, and cranes of iron and wood dredged from the depths stones harder than granite, polished smoother than marble.

Yet when the masons began to work, they faced new despair: no matter their skill or strength, the stones resisted being shaped. They slipped, crushed hands, maimed the workers. The humble mason returned to sleep among the stones, seeking their wisdom once more.

In his dreams, the stones spoke again:
“Would you help us be shaped and set?”

“I would,” he vowed. “Whatever it takes.”

The stones answered:
“We have been taken from the deep; we thirst still. Quench us with the blood of the first creature that lies between us each morning.”

And so it was done. Every dawn, the first creature found between the stones—be it a mouse, a dog, a goat, or even a lizard—was sacrificed. The stones drank their blood, and only then did they yield to the mason’s tools, allowing themselves to be carved, arranged, and set.

At last, when the final stone was placed, a terrible thing happened—the entire promenade began to sink, as if the deep itself tried to reclaim it. In desperation, the mason called for his friends and fellow workers. Together, they slept among the stones, hoping for answers.

Morning came, and with it, a dreadful sight: the workers awoke pale-faced and shaken, speaking of ominous dreams. Yet, amid them all, one remained asleep.

It was the mason’s own daughter.

With a heavy heart, knowing the price demanded, the mason drew his blade and sacrificed his daughter. The stones spoke for the last time:

“Lay her down among us. Let her cradle us, let her lull us into eternal sleep.”

They buried her beneath the promenade, and from that moment, the stones grew silent. No one has heard them speak again, neither in dreams nor waking life. Yet the Stone Strand stood firm at last, a marvel by the sea.

To this day, they say that if you press your ear to the stones, and the wind is just right, you might still hear a soft lullaby—the gentle voice of the mason’s daughter singing the deep to sleep, ensuring the stones thirst for blood no longer.

Moral of the Story

Great beauty and monumental achievements often come with unseen sacrifices. But it is compassion and remembrance that keep the hunger of ambition from consuming us entirely.