The Curse of Fellhollow

Chapter One: Whispers in the Thicket

I swore I'd never come back here.

The air feels colder the moment I step into Fellhollow, as if the village itself remembers me—or worse, remembers the night I lost everything. The scent of damp earth and pine presses in on me, thick and suffocating. The same smell that clung to my parents' clothes the last time they went into Duskwind Thicket. The last time anyone saw them.

I force myself to keep walking, pulling my cloak tighter around me as the villagers' gazes follow. It's like they're seeing a ghost. Maybe, in a way, they are. Lyra Thornwood, the girl who left Fellhollow without looking back, has returned.

But I'm not here for them. I'm here because I owe this village nothing—and everything.

The cottage stands at the edge of the forest, just as I remember it. The thatch roof sags a little more, and the ivy has swallowed half the walls, but it's still home. Or at least, it was.

I push open the door, the creak of the hinges echoing through the empty rooms. Dust swirls in the dim light, stirred by the cool breeze sneaking in through the gaps in the shutters. Everything's just as I left it, except for the silence. No humming. No fire crackling in the hearth. No voices.

I stand in the center of the room, my arms hanging uselessly at my sides. Part of me wants to run back to the village square, gather my things, and leave. Forget this place again. Forget the beast that stole everything from me.

But the forest won't let me forget.

From the window, I can see the trees looming at the edge of the clearing, their gnarled branches stretching toward the cottage like fingers. They've always been there, waiting. Ever since I was a child, I felt the forest watching, like it knew something I didn't. As if it was just waiting for the right moment to take something from me.

And it did.

The village square is bustling when I arrive, though the air feels thick with tension. People keep their heads low, speaking in whispers. I catch fragments of conversation—the wolf, more blood, the next full moon.

The wolf. My stomach tightens.

I duck into the apothecary to gather herbs for the healer, but before I can slip away unnoticed, a familiar voice calls my name. Emrin.

"Lyra," he says, a little breathless as he catches up to me. "I heard you were back. I was hoping to run into you."

I nod, forcing a smile. Emrin was one of the few who didn't treat me like an outsider growing up, but I can see the worry in his eyes now. He's scared. Everyone here is.

"I've heard the rumors," I say quietly. "The wolf... it's still out there?"

His expression darkens. "More than ever. Some say it's been getting bolder, coming closer to the village. A few travelers have gone missing." He lowers his voice. "There's talk of another sacrifice."

I freeze. My heart stutters in my chest. "What?"

He nods grimly. "The Moonbinding Ritual. They think it'll protect us if we offer the wolf a life on the full moon. They've done it before. They'll do it again."

My stomach churns. I remember the stories from when I was young—how the villagers used to offer up a child to the beast in hopes of keeping it away. It never worked. The wolf came for what it wanted regardless.

"And this time... it's me."

I jerk back, staring at him. "No. No, Emrin. You can't—"

"I have to, Lyra," he says, his voice shaking. "It's the only way. If not me, then someone else. And I—I can't let that happen."

My hands tremble. "It's just a wolf, Emrin. It's not... it's not some curse."

"It's not just a wolf," he whispers. "You know that better than anyone."

—-

The forest is darker than I remember.

I stand at its edge, the path that once seemed so familiar now twisted and overgrown. The moonlight filters weakly through the trees, casting long shadows that shift and writhe like living things.

This is where they vanished. My parents. The night they went into the forest to find herbs for a sick villager. The night the wolf took them.

I shouldn't be here. I know that. But if there's any chance of stopping Emrin from throwing his life away, I have to find the wolf. I have to prove it's just an animal, nothing more.

I step into the shadows.

The forest is silent, unnaturally so. The deeper I go, the heavier the air becomes, thick with the scent of moss and decay. Every snap of a twig under my feet feels deafening, every rustle of leaves like a whisper in the dark.

I keep moving, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. The village is far behind me now, the safety of my cottage an impossible distance away. I should turn back. I should—

A sound. Soft, almost imperceptible. But it's there.

I freeze, my breath catching in my throat. Something's watching me. I can feel it.

Slowly, I turn.

My heart stops.

He's there, at the edge of the clearing. The wolf. But he's not what I imagined. He's... larger. Darker. His coat gleams like shadowed silver under the moonlight, his eyes burning with a molten gold that pins me in place.

He's not moving. He's just... watching me.

I can't breathe. I should run, I should scream, but I can't move. His gaze holds me there, and for a moment, I feel something strange stir inside me. Something I can't explain. Recognition.

No. This isn't right. This isn't—

Suddenly, he turns, vanishing into the trees as silently as he appeared, leaving nothing but the hollow echo of my heartbeat in the dark.

I stand there, trembling, my skin cold and my mind racing.

Why didn't he attack? Why didn't he kill me, like he killed my parents?

Why did it feel like he was waiting for me?

—

Back at the cottage, I stand at the door, staring into the distance where the forest looms. The moon is high now, casting a pale light on the path I took. I should feel relieved that I made it back in one piece.

But all I feel is a strange pull, a tightening in my chest, like something in the forest is calling me back.

I shake my head. No. This is ridiculous. It's just a wolf. Just a wolf.

But as I turn to go inside, I pause.

There, at the edge of the trees, a shadow moves. And in the distance, I swear I see a pair of golden eyes watching me.

Waiting.