Skinwalker's kin Chapter one - Part three
1340 Words
Skinwalker's Kin
Chapter One: The Call of Black Hollow (Part 3)
The words settled over the room like frost.
"He smelled your blood."
Rowan searched Miriam's face, hoping to find some sign that she was joking, that the terror in her voice belonged to an old woman whose imagination had finally outrun reality.
Instead, he found something far more unsettling.
Recognition.
Not surprise.
Not fear alone.
Recognition.
She had expected this moment for years.
The cabin fell silent again.
Only the fire crackled softly in the hearth.
"What did you mean?" Rowan asked, his voice low.
Miriam didn't answer immediately. Instead, she crossed the room and drew every curtain shut, fastening each one with deliberate care. She checked every window latch twice before returning to the fireplace.
Only then did she speak.
"When your father was alive, nothing dared come this close."
Rowan looked toward the front door.
"And now?"
"They know he's gone."
"Who?"
"The wolves."
"I just saw something outside."
"You saw one of them."
"It wasn't a wolf."
"No."
Her eyes met his.
"It wasn't."
For several moments neither of them spoke.
The old clock above the mantel ticked steadily, each second sounding louder than the last.
Finally Rowan unfolded his father's letter again.
"Go beneath the cabin.
Find the Second Door."
He looked up.
"What's the Second Door?"
Miriam sighed.
"I hoped Elias would tell you himself."
"He didn't."
"He wanted to."
"Then why didn't he?"
"Because every answer costs something."
Rowan frowned.
"I'm tired of riddles."
"So was your father."
She walked to the bookshelf and ran her fingers across its worn wooden frame.
"This cabin wasn't built by your grandfather."
"No?"
"It was built almost two hundred years ago."
Rowan blinked.
"That's impossible."
"The original house burned."
"When?"
"Before the Civil War."
He stared at her.
"My family's been here that long?"
"Longer."
She removed a leather-bound journal from the highest shelf.
The cover had faded until its title was nearly unreadable.
Ashcroft Family Record.
She placed it carefully on the table.
"You deserve the truth."
Rowan opened the journal.
The first pages contained names.
Dates.
Births.
Deaths.
Generations of Ashcrofts stretching farther back than he'd imagined.
Then the handwriting changed.
The ink became darker.
The entries stranger.
"October 3, 1849.
The howling began again.
Three cattle were found skinned without a drop of blood left in them.
The wolves did not feed.
They searched."
Rowan turned another page.
"February 18, 1872.
Jacob heard his mother's voice outside after midnight.
She has been dead for twelve years.
He answered.
We never found all of him."
His throat tightened.
Another page.
"Never follow familiar voices into Hollow Forest.
They borrow what they cannot become."
He looked up slowly.
"What is this?"
"Our history."
"It reads like folklore."
"It isn't."
A heavy thud echoed beneath the floorboards.
Both of them froze.
The sound came again.
Three slow knocks.
From below.
The basement.
Rowan's heartbeat quickened.
Miriam closed the journal immediately.
"Don't."
"I'm just going to look."
"No."
"My father wanted me down there."
"Not tonight."
Another knock.
Slower.
More deliberate.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
The floor seemed to vibrate beneath their feet.
Rowan grabbed the flashlight from the table.
"If something's down there—"
"There is."
"Then we need to know what it is."
"No."
Miriam's voice hardened.
"It needs to know you."
Before he could reply, the knocking stopped.
Complete silence.
Then came a sound that made Rowan's blood run cold.
A child laughed.
The same laughter he'd heard in the forest.
It echoed faintly beneath the cabin.
Moving.
Circling.
As though someone wandered endless tunnels directly below them.
Sleep became impossible.
Near midnight, Miriam retired to her room after making Rowan promise—three separate times—not to enter the basement until morning.
He promised.
Then waited exactly twenty minutes.
The old house settled into silence.
He slipped from his chair and retrieved the flashlight.
His father's letter remained folded inside his jacket pocket.
"Find the Second Door."
Whatever that meant, the answer lay beneath the cabin.
The basement door creaked softly as he opened it.
Cold air drifted upward.
Far colder than before.
He descended slowly.
Each step groaned beneath his weight.
The hidden tunnel behind the oak cabinet waited exactly where he'd found it earlier.
Only now something was different.
The cabinet stood completely open.
As though someone had invited him inside.
He swept the flashlight through the passage.
Nothing.
Just rough stone stretching into darkness.
Taking a steadying breath, Rowan stepped through.
The tunnel sloped downward for nearly fifty yards before opening into a circular chamber carved directly into the mountain.
He stopped in awe.
Ancient symbols covered every wall.
Not carved.
Burned.
Each mark had been scorched into solid stone.
At the center of the room stood an enormous stone door.
Nearly ten feet tall.
Covered in silver markings that shimmered beneath the flashlight.
There was no handle.
No hinges.
Only one symbol carved into its center.
A hand.
Human.
Rowan approached cautiously.
His heartbeat echoed inside the chamber.
This...
This had to be the Second Door.
He reached toward the symbol.
Behind him, a voice whispered.
"You shouldn't touch that."
Rowan spun so violently he nearly dropped the flashlight.
Someone stood at the tunnel entrance.
A woman.
Tall.
Dressed in a dark leather coat soaked from the rain.
Long black hair framed a sharp, determined face.
She looked to be around his age.
Perhaps twenty-five.
Her amber eyes reflected the flashlight like an animal's.
She carried a hunting bow across her back.
A silver knife rested at her belt.
Neither weapon looked decorative.
"Who are you?" Rowan demanded.
The stranger studied him quietly.
"So."
She tilted her head.
"You really don't know."
"Know what?"
"Who you are."
"I asked who you are."
"My name is Kaela."
She glanced toward the stone door.
"And if you're smart..."
Her expression darkened.
"...you'll walk away from that thing."
Rowan didn't move.
"You broke into my house."
"No."
"I've been protecting it."
"From what?"
Her eyes lifted toward the ceiling.
"As of tonight?"
"Everything."
Before Rowan could question her further, a distant howl echoed through the tunnels.
Kaela's face changed instantly.
Not fear.
Urgency.
"They found the cabin."
"What?"
"They're earlier than I expected."
She rushed forward, grabbing Rowan's arm.
"We have to leave."
He pulled away.
"I don't even know you."
"You don't have time."
Another howl.
Much closer.
This one was answered by several more.
The sound reverberated through the stone chamber.
Kaela cursed under her breath.
"They're surrounding us."
"Who's surrounding us?"
"The Iron Fang Pack."
Rowan laughed once.
Short.
Disbelieving.
"Werewolves?"
Kaela looked genuinely confused.
"What else did you think was hunting you?"
Silence.
The question hung between them.
Then—
A deafening roar shook the chamber.
Dust rained from the ceiling.
The massive stone door trembled.
Something struck it from the opposite side.
Once.
Twice.
A third impact sent cracks racing through the silver markings.
Kaela's eyes widened.
"No..."
She whispered.
"It can't be awake already."
"What can't?"
She looked directly at Rowan.
"The thing your family has spent generations keeping asleep."
The chamber shook again.
This time the roar wasn't behind the stone door.
It came from somewhere much deeper beneath the mountain.
A voice.
Ancient.
Powerful.
Hungry.
It spoke only two words.
"Blood returns."
Rowan felt something inside him answer.
Not aloud.
Not consciously.
Deep beneath his heartbeat.
Like an old memory awakening.
His vision blurred.
Pain exploded through his veins.
He collapsed to one knee.
His hands burned.
Veins beneath his skin darkened like spreading ink.
Kaela stared in horror.
"No..."
She backed away.
"It started."
"What... what's happening to me?"
She gripped the silver knife at her side.
For one terrible second Rowan thought she intended to kill him.
Instead, she whispered almost sadly,
"Your inheritance."
Then every lantern in the chamber extinguished at once.
Darkness swallowed them whole.
And somewhere in that darkness...
Something inhaled.
As though catching Rowan's scent for the very first time.
End of Chapter One – Part 3
- Writer
