The Hollow didn't strike all at once. They came like a sickness in the soil.
First, the village cat vanished. Then two elders disappeared on the same morning. Symbols crude and unnatural began appearing on homes, marked in a dark paste that never dried.
Jalen began waking up screaming, his eyes distant, full of fog.
"They're calling us," he murmured one night. "Through our dreams."
Melia burned sage and whispered lullabies, but nothing stilled his mind.
Meanwhile, Liora's visions intensified. She saw twisted versions of their past — a love shattered, the willow burned, a child's laughter fading into screams.
And the most haunting image of all: a figure in black, cloaked in winter, severing their joined hands.
One evening, Seraphine returned this time grave, eyes sunken.
"They've found you. You must come with me now."
"No," Melia said fiercely. "You said they are reborn. Then this is their home."
Seraphine hesitated. "They are not safe here."
"I won't give them up," Melia snapped. "I will not lose them again."
Liora stepped forward, her voice calm. "We're not running."
Jalen nodded. "We stay. We fight, if we must."
The fire crackled. Outside, wind howled like a warning