The Hollow (Part 2)

The Buried Truth

The deeper Maggie ran into the forest, the thicker the air became. It clung to her skin, a damp, suffocating weight that made it hard to breathe. The trees towered around her, their branches twisting and reaching like fingers trying to pull her back, urging her to stop. She could feel them watching, waiting. The whispers had become louder, more urgent, filling the space between her thoughts like a storm of voices.

Come closer...

She stumbled over a root, nearly falling to the ground, but she didn't stop. There was no time to stop. Every instinct screamed for her to get away, but no matter how fast she ran, the forest seemed to close in on her. It was as if the woods had a will of their own, guiding her deeper, toward something she couldn't understand but felt she had to face.

Maggie's chest tightened. She wasn't sure what was worse-the feeling that she was being followed or the suffocating realization that the Hollow had always known she'd return.

The ground beneath her feet was shifting now, sinking in places, the soil soft and strange, as though the very earth was alive, stirring beneath her. And then, as if from nowhere, the trees opened up. She broke through the thicket into a clearing that she didn't recognize but somehow knew was where she was meant to be.

At the center of the clearing was a stone. A large, ancient slab half-buried in the dirt, covered in a thick layer of moss and grime. It looked old-older than the forest itself. The air around it seemed to pulse with a strange energy, like a heartbeat that matched her own.

She froze.

The whispers intensified, but now they were no longer just distant murmurs-they were speaking to her, directly, in a language she couldn't understand, but the meaning was clear.

It is time.

Maggie stepped forward, her feet moving against her will. Her hands trembled as she reached out to touch the stone. As soon as her fingers brushed against it, the earth beneath her feet shuddered, and a low rumbling filled the air. The whispers grew louder, almost deafening, until they turned into a single voice, cold and commanding.

"You should never have come back."

Maggie yanked her hand away from the stone, heart pounding. The voice was not human. It was deep and hollow, like the sound of something old and ancient, echoing from the depths of time. A shadow, like the one she had seen before, stirred in the darkness between the trees, its long, spindly limbs stretching toward her.

The voice spoke again, but this time, it was more personal, more familiar.

"You know what we are. You always knew."

Maggie's blood turned cold. She turned to run, but the ground beneath her feet began to sink, pulling her down, roots twisting around her legs, holding her in place. She gasped, trying to free herself, but the earth wouldn't let go. The stone seemed to pulse now, its surface shifting, revealing symbols carved into its dark surface-symbols that had been buried for centuries. Symbols she recognized from old stories, myths that had been passed down through her family for generations.

No... it can't be...

The voice laughed, a low, mocking sound that made her skin crawl.

"You are our descendant. The blood that runs in your veins... it is ours."

The world around her spun. Her legs gave way, and she collapsed to the ground, her hands pressing against the stone for support. Her head was spinning. The whispers were relentless now, a chorus of voices swirling in her mind, overlapping and indistinguishable from one another. The ground continued to shudder beneath her, and as her vision blurred, she saw something-or someone-emerging from the shadows.

A figure, tall and thin, its face obscured by a cloak of darkness. But she could feel its presence. It was the figure she had seen earlier-the one at the altar, the one that had waited for her. It stepped closer, its long fingers stretching toward her. She could see its face now, or what remained of it. Hollow. Empty. Like an abyss.

"You were always meant to return," the figure said, its voice rasping in her mind, as if it were speaking from inside her skull. "The forest remembers. It remembers everything."

Maggie tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Her chest was tight with fear. She didn't understand. What was this place? What was happening to her?

The figure knelt before her, its face inches from hers. In its hollow eyes, she saw only darkness, but that darkness was full of everything-the history of the forest, the souls it had claimed, the blood it had tasted. It was ancient, far older than the village or even the land itself.

"You are part of it now," the figure whispered. "You are its heir."

Maggie's heart sank, the cold realization settling over her like a weight. She wasn't just a victim of the forest. She was part of it. She had always been part of it. Her family. Her bloodline. They were tied to The Maw of Mourn, bound to it by an ancient curse, a debt that could never be repaid. The forest had chosen her the moment she was born.

"No..." she gasped. "This... this isn't true. I... I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for any of this."

The figure smiled, but the smile was wrong-empty. "You do not need to ask. The Hollow speaks, and you listen. Whether you want to or not."

Suddenly, the ground trembled again, more violently this time. The stone beneath her hands cracked, and a dark light began to emanate from the deep crevices. The whispers grew into an unbearable roar, a deafening crescendo of voices from beneath the earth. The trees shook, their roots breaking through the soil, pushing the earth apart.

The Hollow was no longer silent.

Maggie struggled to pull herself free from the roots that held her, but the force was too strong. She couldn't escape. She wasn't meant to.

The figure reached down, its fingers wrapping around her wrist like cold iron.

"You cannot outrun your legacy, Maggie," it whispered, its voice a promise. "The Maw of Mourn has waited for you. And now... it will claim you."

The ground beneath her shattered.

And as the darkness consumed her, Maggie understood the terrible truth-the Hollow wasn't just a forest. It was a hunger that had no end. It was a prison for the living, a tomb for the forgotten, a place where bloodlines were buried deep beneath the roots, waiting to return.

And she was part of it now.