The Ash Hollow Curse

Chapter 6: The Descent

Jared insisted on accompanying Simon, his own fear of the demon outweighed by his hatred for what it had done to his friends. The two of them set off for the shrine at dusk, the sun a blood-red smear on the horizon, as if the heavens themselves were warning them of what was to come. The forest loomed ahead, dark and oppressive, its twisted branches reaching toward them like claws.

Margaret had given Simon an old, worn journal before they left—one of the few remnants of the miners who had originally built the shrine. Inside were cryptic notes, symbols, and drawings, all of which seemed to point to some kind of ritual that could reseal the demon. But it was fragmented, incomplete, and Simon wasn't sure if it would be enough.

As they entered the forest, the air grew colder, and the whispers began again. Faint at first, but steadily growing louder. They moved quickly, not daring to linger, their flashlights barely penetrating the thick fog that clung to the ground.

The deeper they went, the more the forest seemed to change. The trees, once merely gnarled, began to take on unnatural shapes—twisting into forms that resembled human figures, their bark etched with the same symbols Simon had seen carved into the tree earlier. It was as if the forest itself was alive, warping under the demon's influence.

Jared stumbled over something and cursed. Simon helped him up, and the beam of his flashlight revealed what had tripped him. It was a bone—human, half-buried in the mud. The two men exchanged a glance but said nothing. They both knew what it meant: they weren't the first to come this way, and they wouldn't be the last.

Finally, after what felt like hours, they reached the shrine. It was a small, crumbling structure, half-swallowed by the forest, its stone walls covered in moss and vines. The symbols etched into its surface were old, worn down by time, but they still pulsed with an unsettling energy.

Simon stepped forward, the weight of the journal heavy in his hands. He flipped through the pages, looking for the passage that detailed the ritual. His breath quickened as he found it: a series of symbols that needed to be drawn, and words—old, ancient words—that had to be spoken in order to reseal the gateway.

But there was a catch: the journal warned that once the ritual began, the demon would fight back. It would throw everything it had at them, trying to stop them from completing the seal.

"Are you ready for this?" Simon asked, his voice low.

Jared swallowed hard, but nodded. "Let's do it."

Simon began to draw the symbols on the shrine's altar, his hands shaking slightly as the whispers grew louder, more aggressive. He could feel the air around him changing, thickening with malevolent energy.

As he spoke the first of the ancient words, the ground beneath their feet trembled. A low, guttural growl echoed from deep within the forest, and the temperature dropped sharply. Jared held his flashlight up, scanning the treeline, but there was nothing—just the fog, creeping ever closer.

Simon continued the ritual, his voice steady but strained. The growl grew louder, and the trees around them began to sway, though there was no wind. Shadows danced at the edge of the clearing, flickering in and out of existence like broken memories.

Then, the first attack came.

A figure lunged from the darkness—a twisted, humanoid shape, its body covered in ragged flesh and its eyes glowing a sickly yellow. Jared shouted in alarm and fired his gun, the shot echoing through the clearing. The creature recoiled, but it didn't fall. It just kept coming.

More shapes emerged from the fog, each one more grotesque than the last. They were the victims of the demon—those who had been taken, twisted into monstrous forms, their souls trapped in eternal torment.

"Keep going!" Jared shouted as he fought to hold them back.

Simon clenched his teeth and continued the incantation, forcing himself to focus. The symbols on the altar began to glow faintly, pulsing with a dim light. But it wasn't enough. The creatures were closing in, and Simon could feel the demon's presence growing stronger, pushing back against the ritual.

Just as he reached the final words, the air around him exploded with force. The ground split open, and from the fissure, the demon rose. Taller than before, its form more solid, more terrifying. Its eyes burned with hatred as it reached for Simon, its claws outstretched.

But Simon didn't stop. With every ounce of strength he had, he shouted the final words of the ritual.

The symbols on the altar flared to life, blindingly bright, and a shockwave of energy erupted from the shrine, slamming into the demon. It let out a piercing shriek, its body contorting in pain as the light consumed it.

For a moment, Simon thought they had won.

But then, the light flickered.

And the demon, though wounded, began to laugh.