Dolls

Chapter One
Alderwood was a town that time had forgotten, but not for lack of trying. Perched at the edge of a vast, ancient forest, the town existed like a lingering dream, one that faded the moment you tried to reach for it. The air here seemed older than it had any right to be, thick with an eternal fog that rolled in from the trees, curling around buildings like restless spirits. The mist clung to the cobblestone streets and the gnarled trees that stretched above, their skeletal branches twining together, cutting off the sky. The town’s architecture was a mixture of faded grandeur and ruin, like something pulled from the pages of an old, forgotten fairy tale.
The first thing Mira noticed as the bus rattled its way down the narrow, winding road toward Alderwood was the silence. It was not the peaceful quiet of a sleepy village; it was oppressive, suffocating, as though the town had been sealed off from the world for centuries. Even the wind seemed reluctant to disturb the stillness, its breath faint and uncertain as it whispered through the trees. The road itself, a cracked and forgotten path, seemed to hesitate under the weight of time, hesitant to let her pass.
When the bus finally lurched to a stop at the small, dusty terminal, Mira stepped off with a sense of unease that she couldn’t shake. The air, though cool and damp, felt heavy. Not cold enough to bite, but the kind of chill that seeped into your bones without explanation. As she adjusted the strap of her bag across her shoulder, Mira glanced up at the town before her, the faintest twinge of apprehension tightening her chest. The buildings leaned in toward each other, as though they were whispering secrets, and though there were no voices to hear, Mira couldn’t shake the feeling that they were watching her, waiting.
The streets were strangely empty, save for the occasional figure moving between the shadows. The people of Alderwood, it seemed, had mastered the art of invisibility. The narrow lanes between buildings were littered with bits of cracked stone and moss, as if the cobblestones themselves were trying to reclaim the streets. The faded facades of the houses bore the marks of time: chipped wood, rusted iron, windows obscured by creeping vines, the occasional window broken as if something，or someone，had been trying to escape.
Mira, an artist by trade and a seeker of stories by nature, found herself drawn to this place precisely because it seemed to hold secrets. She wasn’t expecting miracles, but the eerie beauty of the town fascinated her, like a forgotten painting tucked away in an attic. It was the stillness, the silence, the way the town appeared to be locked in a moment from a distant past, unable to move forward, or perhaps unwilling to.
Her first steps into the heart of Alderwood felt like a journey into another world. Her footsteps echoed loudly against the ancient stones, far too loud in the heavy quiet. She pulled her coat tighter around her as the mist grew thicker, swallowing the town in its ghostly embrace. The occasional figure she passed didn’t acknowledge her, didn’t even seem to notice her presence at all. Old men in tattered coats shuffled by with heads down, their faces obscured by deep-set shadows. Women, wrapped in layers of dark wool, glanced up briefly, their eyes hollow with exhaustion and fear, but said nothing.
It wasn’t long before Mira arrived at the town’s square, an open space marked by an old fountain that hadn’t seen water in years. The stone was cracked, the basin dry and filled with leaves, and around it were a few benches, all empty. The mist had wrapped itself so tightly around the square that the buildings seemed to fade into the fog.
There, at the edge of the square, stood something that stopped her in her tracks. A figure, carved from pale wood, was seated on a low stone wall, its head tilted slightly to the side. The figure was lifelike, its wooden face delicate and expressive, but something about it unsettled her. The eyes，dark, hollow，stared at her with an intensity that felt unnatural.
Mira’s skin prickled as she stepped closer. The doll，if it could even be called that，was dressed in what appeared to be the clothes of a child, a little girl, although it was hard to tell how long it had been since the clothing had been worn. The wooden figure’s pose was oddly casual, as though waiting for someone to return, yet there was a stillness about it that went far beyond the inanimate.
She crouched in front of the doll, studying its features. The carved wooden face was smooth, yet the details seemed to catch the light in an eerie way, as if it had been made to look too real. The hands, the tiny fingers, were expertly shaped. Whoever had carved it had gone to great lengths to make it lifelike, but that only added to the unease creeping up her spine.
Mira’s breath caught in her throat. She knew it was just a doll. Just a doll. But the longer she stared, the less convinced she became. There was something almost... alive in the way its eyes watched her, the way the figure seemed to draw her gaze in, forcing her to linger longer than she intended.
A voice broke the silence, soft and low, as if spoken in warning.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Mira jumped back, startled, and spun around to see an old woman standing in the fog behind her. The woman was hunched, wrapped in a heavy cloak, her face mostly obscured by a wide-brimmed hat. The air around her seemed to ripple as if the mist was drawn to her, wrapping itself more tightly around her presence.
The woman’s pale eyes met Mira’s, and for a moment, Mira thought she saw something more than the quiet sorrow that rested in the lines of her face. There was fear. A deep, primal fear that made Mira’s stomach churn.
“You’re not from here,” the woman continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t stay too long.”
Mira took a step back, confused. “What do you mean?”
The old woman didn’t answer immediately. She simply turned, the shadows of the mist swallowing her small form as she shuffled away, her back hunched beneath the weight of her secrets. Mira stood there for a moment, rooted in place by a mixture of curiosity and discomfort.
Don’t stay too long. The words echoed in her mind, too heavy to shake.
Her fingers brushed the cold stone of the fountain as she tried to dismiss the woman’s warning. Alderwood was a town like any other, wasn’t it? Maybe the people were just a little odd, a little... quiet. But that was all. She could feel the weight of the town pressing against her, but she brushed it off. She was here to paint, to capture the hidden beauty of this place, not to be spooked by a stranger’s cryptic words.
As the evening light began to fade and the mist thickened, Mira made her way back toward the inn. She could feel it now, a subtle pull at the edges of her mind, like a song half-remembered. Alderwood was a town of forgotten things, but in the back of her mind, she began to wonder whether there was more to its history than the passing years had allowed. Something hidden. Something far older than the town itself.
And as she walked through the streets, that feeling deepened. The town had not forgotten time. Time had forgotten it. Or, worse yet, perhaps it had abandoned it entirely. And Mira was beginning to wonder if that abandonment came with a price.
A price she might soon be asked to pay.
Chapter Two
Mira lay in the narrow bed of her room at The Weeping Willow, an old hotel. The room felt like something out of a forgotten nightmare, a place that had been abandoned by both time and memory. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of mildew and old, stale dust. A dampness lingered in the corners, a suffocating moisture that seemed to seep into the very walls, making the room feel alive, watching. The wallpaper, once a faded floral pattern, now peeled away in tattered strips, as if trying to escape the suffocating weight of the room’s age. The yellowed edges curled like decaying flesh, and the faint smell of rot clung to it, making it hard to breathe.
A dark, threadbare rug lay crooked at the foot of the bed, its once-bright colors faded into indistinct smudges of brown and gray. There was an unnatural silence, a stillness that pressed in on every side. No hum of a refrigerator, no distant sounds of voices or traffic. Just the heavy, oppressive quiet, as if the room itself were holding its breath.
The bed sagged in the middle, a hollow depression where countless bodies had once rested. The sheets were worn thin, their crisp white fabric now stained and yellowed in places, like the final remnants of something long forgotten. The quilt, patched and threadbare, was the color of bloodstains that had long since dried. The mattress creaked, groaning under the slightest movement, as if it were alive, shifting restlessly, awake in the dark.
Above the bed, the ceiling bore strange, dark stains, smudges that seemed to pulse when she looked at them too long. The walls, once adorned with faded paintings of idyllic landscapes, now seemed warped, the colors running like melting faces. The cracked mirror above the dresser was covered in fog, cold and wet, no matter how many times she wiped it, the condensation always returned.
The dresser, tall and imposing, loomed against the wall like a relic from another time. There was no dust here, no signs of long abandonment. But the room smelled wrong, like something had been here recently, something that didn’t belong.
The window was shut tight, but there was a draft nonetheless, a cold whisper that seemed to come from nowhere. It slid along the back of Mira’s neck, a fleeting touch of ice, as though invisible hands were brushing against your skin. The curtains, once a rich red, now hung in tatters, like old wounds, half pulled aside. The view outside was blurred by the fog that thickened each night, a thick, unnatural mist that seemed to crawl up the sides of the building, pooling on the ground below, swallowing the streetlights whole.
The dim light from a brass lamp flickered erratically, casting long, spindly shadows that seemed to stretch too far, reaching toward you as you moved. The bulb buzzed and crackled, as if it were struggling to stay lit, and every now and then, the flicker was followed by a sickeningly quiet sound, like something shifting, something moving behind the walls. Or maybe just inside your mind.
The clock on the nightstand was frozen at 3:15, its second hand twitching faintly, as though it were trying to escape the grip of the moment. The silence between the ticks was unbearable, a thick, suffocating pause that made your skin crawl.
Staring at the darkened ceiling, the quiet of the inn pressing in around her like a heavy, suffocating blanket. The air was thick with the damp chill of the fog, creeping through the cracks in the walls and under the windowpane, as if the mist were trying to invade the very room. The only sound was the occasional groan of the house as it settled into the night, the old wood complaining like an old man with a stiff back.
She had expected the silence of a small town. After all, she had grown up in one herself, but this was different. This silence felt deliberate, as if the very town was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Mira had never been particularly superstitious, but the weight of the atmosphere was beginning to wear on her. She could feel the tension in the air, a quiet, unseen thing pressing on her chest, like a hand over her heart.
The whispers, however, were what unsettled her most.
At first, they had been nothing more than the faintest of sounds, barely audible over the rustling of the trees outside. Soft, like the shuffling of dry leaves in the wind, they had filtered in through the cracks of her room’s wooden door.
But as the night wore on, the whispers grew louder. They were more distinct now, more deliberate, as though someone was standing just outside the door, murmuring softly to themselves. The words were fragmented, impossible to decipher, but the tone was unmistakable. Hushed, urgent, filled with something that bordered on desperation. Mira’s pulse quickened, and she sat up, her breath shallow as she strained to listen.
"Mira..."
The whisper came again, so clear this time that it sent a shiver through her spine.
She froze.
The voice was low, soft, and unmistakably human, but the air around her seemed to thicken with a weight she couldn’t place. It felt like the walls of the room were closing in, the space growing smaller with each passing second. Mira’s heart began to pound in her chest, the sound of her own breathing suddenly too loud in the quiet.
"Mira... come to the square..."
The voice lingered in the air, its echo reverberating in her mind long after it faded away.
Her instincts screamed at her to ignore it, to curl under the blankets and pretend she hadn’t heard anything. It could have been the wind, or some fragment of her imagination spurred on by the oppressive silence. But Mira was not one to shy away from the unknown, especially not when it called to her so insistently.
She slipped out of bed, her bare feet hitting the cold wooden floor with a soft thud. The fog outside had thickened, and the moon, barely visible through the mist, cast a dim, ethereal glow across the inn’s rickety windows.
She grabbed her coat and stepped into the hallway, her footsteps muffled by the creaking floorboards beneath her. As she moved toward the door, she noticed the dim light spilling out from the kitchen at the end of the hall. A figure stood in the doorway, their face obscured by the shadows, the shape hunched and still.
Mira’s pulse raced as she stepped forward, unsure whether to approach or retreat.
It was then that she heard the sound of soft, slow footsteps behind her, like someone moving through the hall. Too slow, too deliberate to be a casual passerby. She turned abruptly, but the hallway was empty. A chill crawled up her spine, and for the first time, she felt a cold knot of fear in her stomach.
Shaking off the unease, Mira opened the door and stepped into the foggy night. The air was damp against her skin, and the mist clung to the edges of the street like a living thing. The soft glow of the gas lamps seemed to flicker uneasily in the distance, casting long, wavering shadows against the cobblestone streets.
There was something about the square tonight, something different.
The usual sense of stillness had deepened, as if the whole town was suspended in time, caught between two worlds. Mira’s breath hung in the air, fogging before her eyes as she made her way toward the center of town. The further she walked, the more she felt the town pressing against her, as if it were drawing her in, whether she wanted it or not.
The square looked unchanged from the day before. The empty fountain sat in the center, its stone basin cracked and dry, the leaves swirling in the remnants of the mist. But tonight, there was something new, something that made Mira’s blood run cold.
The wooden figures.
She had seen them before, those strange, lifelike dolls. But tonight, they had multiplied. Everywhere she looked, they were there, standing motionless like sentinels, scattered throughout the square. Some stood in the doorways of the buildings, others leaned against the walls or sat on low stone walls, as though frozen in time. But they weren’t just inanimate objects. They were... different. Their eyes seemed to follow her as she moved, dark and hollow, watching her with an intensity that felt almost deliberate.
One of the figures, a little girl dressed in a faded yellow dress, caught Mira’s attention. She had seen this one before, but tonight, something about it felt wrong. The girl’s face was frozen in a serene expression, her wooden hands folded neatly in her lap. But there was a faint crack running down the side of her head, jagged and dark, as though something, someone, had been trying to break free from within. The longer Mira stared, the more she felt her skin crawl. She could almost imagine the little girl blinking, her eyes shifting, but it was impossible.
It’s just wood, she told herself. Just a doll.
But then the wind picked up, swirling through the square, and as it did, Mira thought she saw the faintest of movements. The wooden girl’s head had shifted, just a fraction.
Her stomach twisted.
Mira took a hesitant step closer, her heart hammering in her chest. The figure did not move again. Perhaps it had just been the wind, or perhaps her own mind playing tricks on her. But the stillness in the air, the heaviness of the night, made her feel as though she were walking on the edge of something ancient, something much older than the town itself.
Then, just as quickly as the chill had descended upon her, the fog shifted. A soft figure emerged from the mist at the far end of the square. A woman, tall and draped in shadow. Mira’s breath caught in her throat as the woman’s face came into view. The woman was old, very old, with skin drawn tight across her face and hollow, sunken eyes that were both ancient and weary. Her hair was long and silver, flowing freely behind her like a ghost’s veil.
The woman’s presence was like the town itself, unseen, but everywhere, like a memory buried beneath layers of time.
“You shouldn’t be here,” the woman said, her voice soft but carrying across the empty square. Her eyes flickered toward the wooden figures, and her lips tightened as though she were trying to suppress something, a warning, or perhaps a plea.
Mira’s heart raced as she took a cautious step forward. “I’m just looking for answers,” she said, though her voice faltered. She wasn’t sure why she was speaking to this woman, or why she felt the need to explain herself.
The woman’s eyes flicked to the figures, and then back to Mira. She shook her head slowly, the motion almost imperceptible. “The answers you seek are not for you to find,” she whispered. “Not here. Not in Alderwood.”
Before Mira could respond, the woman turned and disappeared into the fog, her form vanishing like a wisp of smoke. Mira stood motionless for a long moment, the whispers from the town rising around her, too faint to understand but heavy with something dark.
The square had emptied again, the figures watching her with their hollow eyes, and all that remained was the echo of a single voice, a voice that had warned her, too late, that some truths were better left buried.
Chapter Three
The next morning, Mira awoke to the sound of the wind howling through the gaps in the windowpanes. It was colder than before, and the fog had thickened, turning the town into a vague shadow of itself, as though the mist was trying to erase it from the earth entirely. Her head throbbed from the unsettling events of the previous night, the whispers, the strange woman, the hollow-eyed figures that seemed to follow her with their wooden stares. The heavy, oppressive silence of Alderwood had worked its way into her bones, and she could feel its weight pulling her deeper into its mystery.
She rose slowly, her movements sluggish as she tried to shake off the fog in her own mind. Dressing quickly, she stepped out into the cold, determined to return to the square. There were too many questions she couldn’t ignore, too many things she had seen that didn't make sense. There had to be an explanation for it all. She had to understand what the Hollowed were, what this town had become, and why she felt so drawn to it, as if some invisible force was pulling her deeper into its heart.
The streets of Alderwood were eerily empty, the cobblestones slick with moisture from the previous night's fog. The mist clung to everything, hanging low to the ground like a shroud. Mira walked through the town, her breath visible in the chilly air, and every step she took felt heavy, like the earth itself was resisting her presence. The buildings loomed around her, their windows dark and empty, as though the town were a ghost of itself, its people long gone. But the dolls were still here, still standing vigil in every corner, their faces like twisted reflections of the children they once were.
As Mira approached the square, the familiar sight of the wooden figures greeted her once again. They were everywhere, standing stiffly in the doorways of abandoned buildings, leaning against walls, sitting on broken stone walls that lined the edges of the square. She counted at least a dozen of them, and each one felt more unsettling than the last. She had never seen dolls so lifelike, so detailed, and yet, as she stood among them, it became clear that they were no longer just dolls. They were something else. Something wrong.
One of the figures caught her eye. A boy, no older than six or seven, carved from pale, splintering wood. His expression was one of quiet serenity, his eyes dark hollows, but as Mira looked closer, she noticed something different about this one. There was an oddity in the way he was positioned. The boy was kneeling on the ground, as though in prayer, his hands clasped together as if waiting for something, or someone. His face, however, seemed to twitch, just slightly, as though it were straining against its wooden confines.
Mira stepped closer, her breath catching in her throat as she knelt down to inspect the figure. Her fingers hovered near the boy’s wooden hand, the carving so smooth it felt almost like skin. But the touch was wrong. She recoiled instinctively, her fingers brushing against the surface of his face, where the wood felt unnaturally warm, and the air around him seemed to pulse with a faint, rhythmic hum.
Something was alive in these figures. She had no proof, nothing she could touch or hold, but her instincts screamed at her to get away. Yet, she could not pull herself away. She was rooted to the spot, her gaze locked on the boy’s face, and for a moment, she could have sworn his eyes moved. Just the tiniest shift, but enough to make her stomach drop.
“Not everything is as it seems,” a voice interrupted her thoughts, and she spun around, startled by the presence of a figure standing in the fog behind her.
It was the same old man she had encountered in the square the day before, his hunched form barely visible through the swirling mist. His face was drawn, his eyes distant, as though he had seen too much in his lifetime to ever be truly present in the moment.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he repeated, his voice low and grave. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”
Mira opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. The boy’s wooden face still haunted her vision, his hollow eyes staring back at her, waiting for something. She turned her gaze back to the man, determined to demand answers, but before she could ask a single question, the old man spoke again, his tone urgent.
“Do you know the story of the Hollowing?” he asked, his voice trembling with the weight of something ancient, something unspeakable.
Mira frowned. “The Hollowing?” she echoed. “Is that what this is? The dolls… they’re part of it?”
The old man nodded slowly, his gaze flicking nervously around the square, as though he feared being overheard. “Not dolls,” he corrected. “Hollowed. And they are not just... things. They were once children, lost to a terrible pact. A curse. They are the price Alderwood paid to survive.”
Mira’s heart skipped a beat. “A pact? What do you mean?”
The old man looked at her sharply, as if debating whether to continue. Then, with a sigh, he spoke in a low whisper.
“Years ago, long before the town grew this quiet, the founders of Alderwood made a deal with something older than the land itself. A creature, a dark force known only as The Devouring. They offered it a tribute to ensure the town would flourish, to make sure the crops grew, the rivers flowed, and the town would remain untouched by famine or disease. And what it demanded... was innocence.”
Mira frowned, her mind struggling to process the man’s words. “Innocence?”
The old man nodded grimly. “Every seven years, a child is chosen. Not just any child, one who is pure, untouched by the world’s darkness. The creature feeds on their essence, their soul, and in return, Alderwood thrives. But the children… they don’t die. Not exactly.”
“Then what happens to them?” Mira asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as though afraid of hearing the answer.
“They become Hollowed.” The old man’s voice grew even quieter, as though the word itself held power. “The creature does not consume them entirely. It takes their souls, leaves only their bodies, and those bodies are twisted into these… figures. Wooden vessels, like puppets, hollowed out, carrying a piece of the child's spirit inside them. But they are not the children anymore. They are empty, and the creature feeds on their souls until there is nothing left but hunger. It is the price of the town’s survival.”
Mira’s breath caught in her throat. The pieces were falling into place, but they were far more terrifying than she could have imagined. “The Hollowed… they’re not just dolls. They’re… they’re alive?”
The old man nodded grimly. “More alive than you’d ever want them to be. But not in the way you think. They’re not vessels for the children’s souls anymore. The Devouring has corrupted them, made them hunger for more. They remember, in broken fragments. And they feel everything they’ve lost.”
Mira shuddered, feeling the full weight of his words press down on her. The Hollowed were not innocent victims, trapped in wooden forms. They were something more. They were monsters, shadows of what had once been. And they were not content to remain in the quiet corners of Alderwood, waiting for the next child to be sacrificed.
“What happens when the cycle ends?” Mira asked, her voice trembling with dread.
The old man looked at her, his eyes filled with a haunting mixture of sorrow and fear.
“There’s no ending. Not unless someone stops it.” He stepped back, his eyes lingering on the Hollowed figures in the square, and then back at Mira. “You’re already too late, child. You’ve seen them. And now… the Devouring knows you’re here.”
A gust of wind whipped through the square, carrying with it a chorus of whispers, soft and faint, but growing louder, like the rustling of dry leaves, or the flutter of wings.
It knows you’re here.
The old man turned and disappeared into the mist, leaving Mira alone in the square, surrounded by the cold, hollow eyes of the figures. The wind howled, and in the distance, she thought she heard the faintest sound, almost like a child’s laugh, but twisted, dark, and full of hunger.
The Hollowing had begun.
Chapter Four
Mira stood in the square long after the old man disappeared into the fog, her thoughts spinning in the heavy silence. The wind had picked up, howling through the narrow streets, carrying with it a chill that seemed to seep into her very bones. The Hollowed figures, their wooden faces frozen in eerie stillness, were all around her, each one like a mute sentinel of a forgotten curse. The town felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for something, some inevitable moment to arrive.
She had learned too much, far too much, in such a short time. The Hollowing. The Pact. The Devouring. Each word echoed in her mind, a drumbeat that grew louder with every passing second. She felt as though the town was pressing in on her from all sides, its secrets suffocating, its darkness pulling her closer to the heart of its mystery. But she couldn’t stop herself. No matter how terrified she was, no matter how much she wanted to run, there was something here that demanded her attention. Something, someone, had called her to Alderwood.
She turned away from the figures and made her way back toward the inn, her footsteps quick and purposeful. Her mind was racing, and she needed answers. She could no longer ignore the dark history of this place, or the truth of what lay buried beneath its cobblestone streets.
The Weeping Willow Hotel was as quiet as it had been the night before, a hollow, oppressive silence hanging in the air. Mira made her way up the creaky stairs to her room, her mind whirling. She couldn’t get the image of the Hollowed figures out of her head. Their eyes, empty and dark, but somehow alive with something, an essence that defied explanation. She shuddered as she closed the door behind her, locking it with trembling hands. She needed to think, to process everything she had learned, but it was like trying to make sense of a puzzle with too many missing pieces.
Sitting at the small writing desk by the window, she pulled the town’s old records toward her. The dusty, leather-bound volumes were a stark contrast to the sterile, impersonal world she was used to. Pages yellowed with age, ink faded with time. Yet, there was something almost sacred about them, as though they held the weight of generations of secrets.
As she flipped through the brittle pages, her eyes fell on an entry that sent a chill down her spine. The words were scrawled hastily, almost as if the writer had been in a hurry, trying to record something before it was lost forever.
"The Pact with The Devouring, final sacrifice due in seven years. The Hollowed are the price. A child, taken, transformed. But something is wrong. The Devouring grows restless. The curse cannot last."
The ink seemed to blur as Mira's vision swam. The Devouring was growing restless. What did that mean? Her heart raced as she read the words again, slowly this time. The final sacrifice, seven years. It was clear now. The cycle was coming to an end. And Alderwood was running out of time.
She continued to scan the pages, looking for more information, desperate to understand what could break the cycle. She needed to know how the curse could be undone. But as she read on, her stomach twisted with horror. The next page was stained with something dark, as though the ink had been smeared with blood. She touched the page gently, her fingers trembling, but the blotch wouldn’t come off. The ink had been soaked into the paper, forever part of the town’s twisted history.
"The Pact’s price is steep. We have offered our children, blood and soul, year after year. But there is one among us who believes the Devouring can be defeated. One who says the Hollowed are not just victims. They are the key to breaking the curse."
The words were barely legible, and Mira leaned in closer, trying to make out the rest. But the next few lines were illegible, as if they had been hastily erased or torn from the book entirely. The only thing that remained was a single sentence at the bottom of the page:
"The Hollowed will grow stronger. They will remember."
A sudden, sharp knock at the door interrupted her reading, and Mira jumped, her heart slamming against her chest. She hadn’t heard anyone approach, and the idea that someone might be standing outside her room made her pulse spike with panic. Slowly, cautiously, she stood and crossed the room. With trembling fingers, she reached for the doorknob.
“Mira, it’s me.”
The voice was faint, yet unmistakable. It was the old man from the square, the one who had warned her about the Hollowed. She hesitated for a moment, uncertainty gnawing at her. What did he want? And how had he found her?
But there was something about his voice that made her open the door.
He stood there, hunched as before, his face a mask of concern and fear. His eyes darted over her shoulder, as though expecting someone, or something, to be lurking behind her.
“You need to listen to me,” he said in a low voice, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “It’s worse than you think. The Hollowed… they’re waking up.”
Mira’s stomach tightened, and she closed the door behind him, locking it once more. “What do you mean, waking up?” she asked, her voice trembling despite her attempt to sound steady.
The old man looked around the room, his eyes flicking nervously to the window, to the shadows in the corners. His breath came in quick, shallow gasps. “They’re becoming aware,” he whispered. “More than just memories. They’re beginning to… feel things. Their hunger is growing. And they’re not content to remain in the corners of the town anymore. They want more. They want to break free.”
Mira felt a cold shiver run down her spine. “But how is that possible? They’re just…dolls.”
“No,” he replied sharply. “Not dolls. Hollowed. They were children once, and they remember what they were. They know what was taken from them. And the more they remember, the more dangerous they become.”
Mira’s mind reeled. The Hollowed were remembering. Remembering what they had lost.
“If they remember too much,” the old man continued, his voice quivering with urgency, “they will no longer be vessels. They will be fully alive in a way that The Devouring cannot control. And if that happens, the cycle will be broken. But it will come at a terrible cost.”
Mira felt as though the walls were closing in around her. The fog outside pressed against the window like a living thing, and the air seemed to grow heavier by the second. She could feel the weight of his words settling into her chest, like a stone. The Hollowed weren’t just waiting. They were planning. And if they broke free, if they took back what had been stolen from them, it could tear the town apart.
“What’s the cost?” Mira asked, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
The old man met her gaze, his eyes dark and filled with dread. “You. The price to stop them… is you. You have to be the one to face The Devouring. Only then can you end the cycle.”
Mira’s blood ran cold. The Devouring. The creature at the heart of the town’s curse. The thing that had taken so many children over the years. She wasn’t sure what he meant by facing it, but she already knew it would mean something far worse than she could imagine. There was no easy way out.
“You can’t stop it unless you’re willing to sacrifice yourself,” the old man said, his voice growing faint. “If you want to end the curse, if you want the Hollowed to be free, you have to face the creature beneath the earth. But be warned. It will change you. You’ll never be the same again.”
Mira’s hands trembled, but she didn’t have the strength to argue. The Hollowed were awakening. The Devouring was growing stronger. And she was the only one who could stop it.
But at what cost?
“I’ll help you,” the old man whispered, his voice barely audible. “But you must make the choice.”
Mira stared at him, her mind swirling with questions and fears. But there was only one thing she knew for certain now.
Alderwood’s curse was far from over.
And she was its only hope.
Chapter Five
The night had settled heavy and still over Alderwood, the mist thickening once again, curling like fingers reaching into every crevice, every shadow. Mira sat at the desk, the faded town records spread before her like an offering, but she couldn’t focus on them. The words blurred as her thoughts ran in a frantic, spiraling loop. The old man’s warning echoed in her mind: You must face The Devouring.
She had always thought of herself as brave, an explorer of the unknown, someone who sought out the mysteries of the world with an artist’s curiosity. But this… this was different. This was not just a story or a legend she could paint with colors or words. This was a living, breathing nightmare, a darkness that had been consuming Alderwood for generations, feeding on its children, leaving behind twisted, empty shells of what had once been.
The Hollowed.
Mira shivered, her fingers absently tracing the outline of the wooden figures she had seen scattered around town, each one a mute witness to the curse. But now she realized something she hadn’t before, something so terrible, so maddening that her mind refused to fully accept it. The Hollowed weren’t just victims of the Pact. They weren’t just poor, empty vessels left in place of the children who had been taken.
They were part of something much bigger. And they remembered.
She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the wooden floor with an unnatural screech. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath quick and shallow. The room felt too small, the air too thick. She couldn’t stay here, buried under the weight of the knowledge she had uncovered. She had to find the answers. She had to understand how to break the cycle, how to free the Hollowed and end this nightmare once and for all.
But first, she needed to know where to begin.
She grabbed her coat, her hands trembling as she zipped it up, and stepped into the night. The fog pressed in around her immediately, swallowing up the quiet street as though it were a living thing, eager to hide her from whatever truths lay waiting just out of sight. Her footsteps were muffled by the mist as she walked briskly through the eerily quiet town, past the crumbling buildings and the skeletal trees that stretched their limbs toward the sky like ancient, twisted hands.
Alderwood had always been a town of shadows, but tonight, it seemed that the shadows had grown deeper, darker. Even the moon was hidden, cloaked behind the thick clouds that rolled across the sky. She couldn’t help but feel that the very air itself was holding its breath, watching her every step.
She made her way toward the old church. It loomed in the distance, its bell tower peeking through the fog like a ghost from another time. The first time she had seen it, it had been little more than a silhouette, imposing, but distant. Now, as she stood at its base, she felt a strange pull toward it, as though the very foundation of the town was tethered to the earth beneath her feet.
There was something inside the church. She could feel it in the air, a presence, ancient and heavy, as if the ground itself was pregnant with secrets. She had to go inside.
The door creaked open as she pushed it, the sound almost deafening in the silence. She stepped into the church, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light. The air smelled musty, damp, and the floorboards groaned beneath her feet as she moved deeper into the nave. The faintest scent of decay lingered, but it wasn’t the smell of dust or age. It was something older, something darker.
The stone walls rose high around her, and the stained-glass windows, though cracked and faded with time, still glimmered faintly in the low light. But it was the altar at the far end of the room that caught her attention. It was grand, despite its state of disrepair, stone steps leading up to an ornate structure that was barely visible in the gloom.
And there, at the foot of the altar, was a symbol.
It was carved into the stone floor, so faint it might have been overlooked by someone who wasn’t paying attention. But Mira wasn’t like the rest of the town. She could see what others couldn’t, and as she bent down to inspect it, she recognized the pattern.
A circle. An intertwined set of lines, winding and twisting in on themselves, converging at the center. It looked like an ancient seal, a mark of some sort, the kind that had been drawn to bind things, to imprison them.
Her pulse quickened as the weight of its meaning pressed down on her chest. This was the key. The seal was part of the ritual that had bound The Devouring to Alderwood. The Pact. The curse.
She felt a shiver run through her, the air around her growing colder, thicker. She could almost hear something beneath the floor, like a distant rumble, a low growl. It was as if the town itself was awake, aware of her presence.
Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet trembled. Mira froze, her breath catching in her throat as the tremor passed. She wasn’t imagining it. The air had shifted, the pulse of the town quickening. The Devouring was stirring.
Her hand shot out to steady herself against the altar, and she stumbled, her mind racing to make sense of the feelings flooding her. It wasn’t just the curse, not just the Hollowed that were waiting. It was the creature itself, the thing that had fed on the town’s innocence for so long. It was waking up, and she was running out of time.
It’s coming, she thought. It’s coming, and I have to face it.
The tremor passed, and the church fell silent again, but Mira could still feel it. The weight of the town’s darkness, the terrible secret buried beneath the stone, pressing down on her with a suffocating force. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep running from it.
She turned back toward the door, the hollow feeling of dread creeping into her chest. She had to act. The Hollowed were growing stronger, remembering. The Devouring was stirring, restless, and only she could stop it. But how?
What price would she have to pay to break the cycle?
As she stepped back out into the fog, the answer seemed to hang in the air like a silent promise. The truth was out there, deep beneath the earth. If she wanted to stop the horror, she would have to descend into the very heart of it.
And she would have to face the creature.
The thought sent a cold tremor through her. But there was no turning back now. The town’s curse had been waiting for someone like her, someone who wasn’t afraid to look the darkness in the eye.
And she would.
She would face the Devouring, whatever it took.
Because in the end, it was the only way to save the town.
Chapter Six
The fog had thickened again, curling around the edges of the church like the fingers of some unseen, hungry thing. Mira’s footsteps were muffled by the mist as she left the church, the weight of what she had just discovered pressing heavily on her chest. Every step she took felt heavier than the last, each one taking her further into the heart of a nightmare she couldn’t escape.
She knew now what had to be done. The town had never truly been free from its bargain. The Hollowed figures were mere shadows of what had been, lifeless but growing stronger. The Devouring, the creature that had made the pact all those years ago, was stirring beneath the earth, a monstrous thing that fed on innocence and would never stop until it had devoured everything.
The only way to end it, to stop the cycle of death and rebirth, to free the souls of the lost children, was to face the creature itself. And to face it, she had to descend into the labyrinth beneath the town, where it had been imprisoned for centuries.
Mira didn’t know how she knew it, but she felt it in her bones. Beneath Alderwood, deep beneath the ancient cobblestone streets and the crooked houses, lay the heart of the curse. That was where the creature’s power pulsed, where the binding magic held it captive, or had, at least, until now. The seal she had found in the church was more than just a symbol; it was a doorway, a key to the heart of the darkness.
The town had been built on top of the creature, a trap meant to contain it, to keep it from breaking free. But over time, the town had forgotten its purpose. The townsfolk had learned to ignore the whispers, the tremors beneath their feet. And when they had begun to understand what the Hollowing truly was, they had turned a blind eye. Fear was a powerful thing, and it was easier to let the curse continue than to face it head-on. Easier to pretend they weren’t slowly being consumed.
But Mira wasn’t like the others. She couldn’t just turn away, couldn’t let the town continue to suffer. She had to go down there. She had to confront the creature.
The path to the cavern was hidden, but she knew where to look. In the church, beneath the altar, she had seen the faintest traces of a door. If the records were right, if the Pact had been true, then the entrance to the underground labyrinth was somewhere beneath the stone floor, concealed by centuries of neglect.
Mira moved swiftly through the mist, the eerie quiet of the town pressing in around her. The air seemed to grow colder with every step she took, as if the earth itself was drawing in a deep, shuddering breath. Her heart pounded in her chest as she made her way back toward the church, but the fear no longer felt like an obstacle. It felt like a warning. She couldn’t ignore it, no matter how much she wanted to.
As she approached the church once more, she noticed something new, a shape in the fog, standing just outside the doors. A figure. She paused, her breath caught in her throat. The silhouette was tall, almost too tall, and too still. She couldn’t see the face, but something about it felt…wrong. A sense of dread curled in her stomach, and she instinctively took a step back.
The figure didn’t move.
Then, without warning, it turned and vanished into the mist.
Mira felt her heart skip a beat, but she didn’t hesitate. She had come too far to let fear stop her now. She entered the church and moved quickly toward the altar, her steps echoing in the stillness. The faintest trace of the symbol she had seen earlier was still visible beneath the dust and grime. She knelt down, brushing away the dirt, revealing the carving in full.
It was intricate, too intricate to have been made by accident. A spiral, twisted and intertwined, with an indentation at the center that seemed to beckon. She placed her hand there, her fingers trembling, and felt the stone shift beneath her touch. There was a low rumble, barely perceptible at first, then louder. The floor trembled, and the sound of grinding stone filled the air as the altar began to slide open, revealing a dark passage below.
Mira’s breath caught in her throat. It was a hidden staircase, descending into the depths of the earth. She had found it.
Without another moment’s hesitation, she stepped forward, her heart pounding as she descended into the darkness.
The stairs were narrow and steep, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and decay. The further she descended, the more oppressive the air became. It clung to her skin, like a heavy cloak, stifling and suffocating. Her fingers brushed against the rough stone walls as she carefully made her way down, her mind spinning with a thousand questions, a thousand fears.
What was she going to find down there? What had The Devouring become after all these years of imprisonment? And how could she possibly defeat something so ancient, so powerful?
She reached the bottom of the stairs and found herself in a large, cavernous space. The air was colder here, and the smell was worse, like rot and sulfur, a stench so foul it made her gag. But she couldn’t turn back. Not now.
The cavern stretched out before her, a vast underground expanse that seemed to go on forever. The walls were slick with moisture, and the ground was uneven, jagged rocks jutting out in every direction. But in the distance, through the haze of mist and darkness, she could make out something…moving.
It was faint at first, a ripple in the air, a dark shape that seemed to writhe and shift in the shadows. Mira’s heart lurched in her chest, and she felt the blood drain from her face. She had never seen anything like it, but somehow she knew. This was it. This was The Devouring.
She stepped forward, her breath shallow, her body tense with fear. The creature was waiting for her.
The air grew colder, the temperature dropping rapidly as she advanced. She could feel the creature’s presence now, like a weight pressing down on her chest, suffocating her. It was close, closer than she realized.
And then, from the darkness, a voice whispered.
“Mira…”
Her blood ran cold as the voice echoed through the cavern, soft and insistent, yet filled with an unnatural hunger. It wasn’t her name spoken by any human tongue. The voice was deeper, guttural, like a sound that came from the very bowels of the earth.
“I have waited so long…”
Mira’s heart pounded in her chest as she spun around, searching for the source of the voice. But the darkness held its secrets. She could see nothing, hear nothing beyond the whispers that seemed to rise from the very stones around her.
And then, from the shadows, it emerged.
A figure, a grotesque, monstrous thing. It was a twisted parody of a human, its body covered in rotting flesh, sinew stretched thin over bones that jutted out at odd angles. Its eyes were wide and black, devoid of anything human, and its mouth was filled with rows of jagged teeth, dripping with something that shimmered like oil.
The Devouring.
It had no form, no true shape, only hunger. It was the embodiment of everything that had been stolen, the innocence of children, the memories of those who had been consumed. It was more than a creature; it was a force of nature, an ancient entity that existed only to feed, to destroy.
Mira swallowed, her mouth dry. She took a step back, but the creature moved with a speed that defied its monstrous form, closing the distance between them in an instant.
“Come closer, child,” the voice purred. “Come closer, and let me show you what you have unleashed.”
Her legs shook beneath her, but she didn’t falter. She had come too far to turn back now. She was here to end this, to break the curse, to free the souls of the lost children.
And she would do whatever it took.
Chapter Seven
The cavern was alive with a palpable, oppressive energy, the air thick with a presence that could not be ignored. Mira’s heart thundered in her chest, every pulse of blood reverberating in her ears as The Devouring loomed before her, its form a grotesque distortion of life and death. It was a thing of nightmares, an ancient terror that had existed far longer than the town of Alderwood, far longer than the people who had forged the cursed pact.
The creature’s eyes, black, endless pits, seemed to drink in her fear, swirling with an unnatural hunger that reached out toward her like a monstrous hand. Every inch of it was wrong. Its body was a patchwork of sinew and shadow, a twisted amalgamation of forms that seemed to be caught between life and death. The jagged teeth glinted in the dim light, rows of them stretched far back into its gaping maw, dripping with a viscous, dark liquid. It moved with an unnatural grace, a predator testing its prey.
Mira’s breath caught in her throat as it spoke again. Its voice was not human, not even close. It was a guttural, echoing thing, a deep, unsettling rumble that reverberated in her chest.
“You should not have come, Mira. You think you understand the curse of Alderwood?” The voice curled around her like smoke, suffocating and overwhelming. It was not just speaking; it was calling to her, pulling at something deep within her, something she couldn’t yet name. “The Hollowed were never just children. They were the price. My price. You are the last to pay it, little one.”
Mira’s legs trembled beneath her, but she refused to back away. She had come this far. She had to end it. The town’s curse, the Hollowed, the missing children. It all came back to this moment. The Devouring had made a deal centuries ago, and it had continued to feed, year after year. It was the hunger at the heart of Alderwood, the thing that had kept the town alive and thriving. But at what cost?
“No,” Mira said, her voice shaky but firm. “I came here to stop this. To break the cycle.”
The Devouring's laugh was like the crackle of dry leaves in the wind, chilling and hollow. “You believe you can end it?” The creature’s voice grew deeper, more mocking, as it took a step closer. The air around it grew cold, so cold that Mira’s breath fogged in the heavy darkness. “You cannot stop me. You were chosen, Mira. Chosen by the blood that runs through your veins.”
Her mind spun, trying to grasp the full meaning of its words. Her blood? What did that have to do with anything? She thought back to the discovery she had made in the town’s records, the connection between her great-grandmother and the founders of Alderwood. Had she always been part of this cursed bloodline? Was this why she had been drawn here, to this place, at this time?
No. It doesn’t matter. I can’t let it matter. Not now.
But the creature was relentless.
“You are mine, Mira. You have always been mine. Your ancestors sealed the pact; your family was the sacrifice.” The Devouring’s form shifted, the shadows writhing and contorting as though the very air around it was being consumed. “*But you. You are the final piece. The one who will complete the circle. The one who will feed me for good.”
Mira’s stomach lurched as the weight of its words sank in. A part of her wanted to run, to flee back up the stairs, to escape, but she knew she couldn’t. Not anymore. This was her responsibility. The bloodline, the curse, the Hollowing. It was all hers now.
The creature moved closer, its form undulating in ways that made Mira’s skin crawl. “You feel it, don’t you? The hunger inside you. The hunger that comes with knowing the truth.” Its voice was softer now, like a whisper in her ear. “It’s in your blood. I can taste it. Your soul, your memories, they’ll become mine.”
Mira swallowed, feeling her knees weaken. She wanted to scream, to run, to reject what the creature was saying, but there was something dark and insidious crawling through her mind, something that whispered that maybe, just maybe, it was telling the truth.
But no. She wouldn’t let it consume her. She couldn’t.
As The Devouring drew closer, Mira clenched her fists. She had one choice. She could face the creature, confront it, and try to free the souls trapped within the Hollowed. Or she could let it win, let it take everything.
She reached into her coat pocket, her fingers brushing against the cold, familiar shape of the pendant. The one that had belonged to her great-grandmother. The one she had found at the bottom of the old family chest. It was the key to breaking the curse.
The pendant was a simple thing, a dark stone encased in tarnished silver, but it hummed with an energy she couldn’t explain. It felt ancient, like a piece of the earth itself, like something that had been waiting for her to find it.
The Devouring froze as she held it up, its form flickering at the sight of the stone. Its eyes, those terrible, endless black eyes, narrowed, a strange kind of awareness creeping into them.
“What is that?” The voice was low now, laced with something that could almost be fear. “That… that should not be here.”
Mira’s hand shook as she tightened her grip on the pendant. She didn’t know how it worked, or what its true power was, but she felt it now. It had to work.
“I won’t let you have them. Not anymore.” Her voice was a whisper, but it rang in her ears like a bell. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, holding the pendant high, as if daring the creature to stop her.
The air crackled with energy, the cavern seeming to pulse with the weight of her words. The shadows surrounding The Devouring writhed, recoiling as though in pain. Mira felt the power surge beneath her feet, felt the cavern tremble as if the very foundations of the earth were shifting.
Then, with a shriek of rage that echoed through the cavern, The Devouring lunged at her, its jagged teeth snapping, its massive form barreling toward her with terrifying speed.
But Mira was ready.
In an instant, she raised the pendant, and the ground beneath her feet shattered.
A pulse of blinding light erupted from the stone, washing over the cavern like a wave of heat. The force of it knocked Mira back, and for a moment, she lost sight of everything, the creature, the cavern, even the very earth beneath her. The light was everywhere, searing into her mind, drowning her in its brilliance.
And then, just as quickly as it had begun, it stopped.
Mira’s eyes snapped open. She was lying on the cold, uneven ground, her head spinning. The air was still now, too still. The Devouring was gone.
But something had changed. The weight in the air had lifted. The suffocating hunger that had clung to the cavern was gone, replaced by a strange, eerie calm. The world around her was silent. The fog had receded, the mist that had always clung to the earth lifting in the wake of the explosion of light.
Mira pushed herself up slowly, the pendant still gripped tightly in her hand. She could feel it now, the power had transferred, not just into her, but into the very ground beneath her feet. The earth had absorbed the creature’s essence, and it was as if the curse itself had been undone.
The Hollowed were gone.
The cycle was broken.
Mira let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She had done it. The creature had been defeated. Alderwood was free.
But at what cost?
The silence pressed in on her again, heavier now, as if the town itself had exhaled in relief. Mira stood, the pendant now warm in her hand, and stared into the darkness. She had won, but the victory felt hollow. The echoes of the Hollowed, the children who had been lost to The Devouring, still lingered in the corners of her mind.
Would they ever truly be free?
And what, now, would she do with the power she had claimed?
Chapter Eight
The cavern was empty now, save for the remnants of the struggle. The energy that had once crackled in the air was gone, replaced by an unsettling silence that seemed to seep into the very walls. She felt the weight of that silence, pressing down on her like a heavy fog. It was as though the earth itself had exhaled, letting go of a breath it had held for centuries.
For a moment, Mira wasn’t sure what had happened. Was the creature truly gone? Was the curse broken, or was this just a brief reprieve, a fleeting moment before the darkness returned? She lifted her hand, the pendant still clutched in her fingers, its dark stone cool to the touch. There was no mistaking it now. The creature was gone. But the price for that victory weighed heavily on her heart.
She struggled to her feet, her legs unsteady beneath her. Every part of her body felt bruised, as if she had been torn apart and put back together again. The air in the cavern felt thinner now, cleaner, as if something toxic had been purged from the earth itself. But it wasn’t just the air that had changed. Mira felt different, too. There was an unfamiliar energy within her, something powerful and unsettling, like the force of the creature’s hunger had been passed into her.
What have I done?
She reached out, steadying herself against the stone walls of the cavern, but the tremor in her fingers told her that she wasn’t as strong as she had hoped. The power was there, undeniable, but it was dangerous. It gnawed at her, pulling at something deep inside her soul. It felt like The Devouring itself was still within her, lingering in the shadows of her mind, whispering softly, trying to reclaim what it had lost.
Mira shook her head, as if trying to clear the thoughts from her mind. She couldn’t allow herself to be consumed by the hunger. Not now. Not when she had come so far.
I’ve broken the cycle. Alderwood is free. The Hollowed are free. She repeated these thoughts like a mantra, trying to steady her nerves. But the weight of the truth lingered, and it wasn’t just the town that had been freed. She had been changed, forever. And there was no turning back.

Back in Alderwood, the streets were eerily quiet. The mist had lifted, and the sun had finally pierced through the thick clouds that had long obscured the town. For the first time since her arrival, Mira felt the full weight of the town’s history pressing on her, as though the land itself had been holding its breath for centuries. She stepped cautiously into the square, unsure of what to expect. The buildings, the cobblestone streets, everything seemed to have shifted. It was as though the town had been reborn. Or perhaps, had been undone.
The Hollowed, those eerie wooden figures that had once stood in the doorways of the homes, were gone. The town felt emptier, as if something had been taken from it. The people, too, had changed. They no longer moved with the same hollow dread that had haunted them before. Their faces were still etched with weariness, but there was a sense of relief, of freedom, that Mira hadn’t seen in their eyes before.
As she made her way to the town’s center, she was stopped by an old woman, one of the few who had dared speak to her in the past. Her face was gaunt, the lines of age and worry etched deeply into her skin. But there was a light in her eyes now, something that hadn’t been there before.
“You did it,” the woman said, her voice low, filled with awe. “You’ve ended it. You’ve freed us.”
Mira nodded, though a cold knot of uncertainty twisted in her stomach. “It’s over?”
The woman hesitated, her eyes flicking toward the distant woods. “I hope so. But the town… it’s not the same. It’ll never be the same. What you’ve done, Mira, has changed everything. Even the earth itself. We’ve been cursed for so long, we don’t know how to live without it.”
Mira glanced around, taking in the familiar sights of Alderwood, the crumbling buildings, the mist-wreathed forest, the silent streets, and realized that the woman was right. The town had been shaped by the curse. Its very identity had been defined by the Hollowing, the ritual that had fed the land and its people for centuries. Without it, what was Alderwood? What would it become now?
As the woman turned to leave, she paused and looked back at Mira. “You’re not like us, are you? You carry something different now. Something that can never be undone.”
Mira didn’t respond, watching the woman’s figure fade into the fog. She couldn’t deny it. The power, the hunger, it was still there, lurking just beneath the surface. But she had no choice but to keep going. She had no choice but to live with what she had done.

That night, Mira lay awake in the hotel room, staring at the ceiling, unable to shake the feeling that something was still waiting for her. The silence of Alderwood felt too still, too unnatural. She thought of the Hollowed, the children whose lives had been stolen, their souls trapped in those lifeless figures. Had they truly been freed? Or had they simply been transformed, their memories and identities buried in the same way the curse had buried the town’s past?
She couldn’t shake the thought that her work wasn’t finished. That there was more to this story than she had uncovered. But she couldn’t bring herself to face it, not yet. She had done what needed to be done. Alderwood was free. She had broken the cycle.
But as she drifted into an uneasy sleep, she heard it again, the soft, whispering voice.
“Mira…”
It was faint, almost imperceptible, but she knew it wasn’t a dream. The voice came from somewhere deep within her, a voice that felt like it was not entirely hers. She sat up abruptly, her heart racing, but the room was empty. The fog outside had thickened, the mist curling around the windows like a living thing.
“Mira…”
She held her breath, the voice growing louder now, clearer, as if it were coming from inside her own mind.
“You cannot escape me.”
Mira’s pulse quickened. Her hand flew to her chest, as if to hold the hunger that writhed within her in place. The voice… It wasn’t just a whisper anymore. It was a command. A presence. A force.
She stumbled out of bed, her limbs heavy, her mind a blur. There was no more denying it. The Devouring had not been vanquished. It had simply been contained, sealed within her, waiting.
And Mira knew it wasn’t over.
Chapter Nine
The sun had barely risen when Mira stepped out into the streets of Alderwood the next morning. The air was thick with fog, and there was a chill in her bones, but it wasn’t the cold of the mist. It was the cold of something else, something darker, deeper.
The hunger.
It gnawed at her insides, a constant presence that she couldn’t shake, no matter how hard she tried. The power she had taken, the power she had absorbed when she defeated The Devouring, it was still inside her, thrumming beneath her skin. It was like a weight in her chest, a thing that was alive and ravenous.
As she walked through the empty streets, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of the town’s history pressing down on her. Alderwood had been shaped by the curse, by the pact made centuries ago, and now that the curse was broken, the town was left to pick up the pieces.
Mira’s own life would never be the same again, either. The hunger inside her was a constant reminder of that.
She knew what she had to do. She couldn’t stay in Alderwood. The town had been freed, but it would never be whole again. And neither would she.
She was a part of the curse now, whether she liked it or not.
And as she stood at the edge of the square, gazing at the empty streets, she realized that breaking the cycle had come at a terrible cost. The power she had taken from The Devouring would never let her go.
Mira turned and walked into the mist, knowing that no matter where she went, she would never escape the hunger inside her.

Author's Note

Please ignore some flaws in the story