Chapter 12: The Map Beneath The Eye
913 Words
Nobody spoke during the drive back from the reservoir.
There wasn't much left to say.
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Amelia Carter had been standing on water.
Hundreds of faces had stared up from beneath the surface.
And something the size of a mountain had opened an eye beneath the reservoir.
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Any one of those things should have been impossible.
Together they felt overwhelming.
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Maya sat in the passenger seat clutching the stone disk.
She hadn't let go of it since leaving the boat.
Not because she wanted it.
Because she couldn't shake the feeling it wanted her.
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The disk felt strangely warm.
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As though it possessed its own pulse.
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They gathered later that evening in Eleanor's university office.
The room had become their headquarters.
Maps covered the walls.
Research papers filled every available surface.
Coffee cups multiplied like a separate species.
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Aaron stood by the window.
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Eleanor studied the stone disk beneath a magnifying lamp.
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Maya watched.
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Waiting.
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Hoping.
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Dreading.
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Finally Eleanor looked up.
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"It's definitely old."
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Aaron sighed.
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"How old?"
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Eleanor hesitated.
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"Potentially thousands of years."
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The room fell silent.
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Maya wasn't surprised anymore.
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That frightened her.
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Nothing surprised her now.
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Not ancient artifacts.
Not impossible creatures.
Not living nightmares.
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The impossible had become routine.
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The carving occupied one side of the disk.
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The spiral eye.
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The same symbol.
Always the same symbol.
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The reverse side contained dozens of lines.
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Curving.
Intersecting.
Crossing one another.
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At first glance they appeared random.
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Then Eleanor rotated the disk.
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Everything changed.
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"Oh."
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Aaron frowned.
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"What?"
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"It's not decoration."
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She looked at Maya.
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"It's a map."
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Three hours later they knew where it pointed.
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Not exactly.
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But close enough.
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A remote region of moorland nearly eighty miles north of Ashmere.
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A place largely forgotten.
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A place that appeared on surprisingly few modern maps.
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A place called Ravenscar Fell.
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Aaron stared at the screen.
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"I've never heard of it."
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"Most people haven't."
Eleanor zoomed further.
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"There used to be a settlement there."
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"Used to?"
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She nodded.
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"It vanished."
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Nobody liked the sound of that.
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"Vanished how?"
Maya asked.
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Eleanor opened another document.
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The colour drained from her face.
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"Nobody knows."
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Aaron groaned.
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"Of course they don't."
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The records were sparse.
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A farming village.
Population roughly two hundred.
Abandoned during the winter of 1894.
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No explanation.
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No disease.
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No disaster.
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Just empty buildings.
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Empty homes.
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And two hundred missing people.
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Gone.
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As though they had simply walked away.
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Maya felt a knot tighten in her stomach.
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Another disappearance.
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Another place.
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Another pattern.
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The Dreamer had been feeding for a very long time.
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That night Maya dreamed again.
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She stood on the shoreline.
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The black sea stretched endlessly before her.
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The Hollowed lined the coast.
Thousands of them.
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Watching.
Waiting.
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This time she noticed something new.
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Lights.
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Far away across the water.
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Tiny points of pale illumination.
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Hundreds of them.
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Scattered across the horizon.
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Like distant stars.
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Or beacons.
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Or doors.
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Each one pulsed faintly.
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Alive.
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Connected.
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A network stretching beyond sight.
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Then one of the lights went out.
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Darkness swallowed it.
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A second later another brightened.
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The Dreamer was moving.
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Awakening places.
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Lighting pathways.
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Preparing something.
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And then Maya saw Ravenscar Fell.
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Not as it appeared now.
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As it once was.
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A village.
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Snow falling gently.
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Children playing.
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Families laughing.
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Life.
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Normal life.
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Then every person stopped simultaneously.
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Every smile vanished.
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Every face turned toward the hills.
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Toward something hidden beneath them.
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And together they began walking.
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Not running.
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Not screaming.
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Walking.
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Into the darkness.
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Never to return.
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Maya awoke gasping.
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The clock read 3:17 a.m.
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Of course it did.
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Her chest rose and fell rapidly.
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The dream lingered.
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Especially the final image.
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One person had looked back.
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Only one.
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A little girl.
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Perhaps eight years old.
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Standing at the edge of the crowd.
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Watching Maya.
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And before the dream ended, the child had spoken.
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Only three words.
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Words Maya could still hear.
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As clear as if they had been whispered beside her bed.
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"Don't open it."
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The room fell silent.
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Then something knocked softly against the cottage window.
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Once.
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Twice.
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Three times.
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Maya's blood turned cold.
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Because she lived alone.
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And outside her window stood a figure she recognised immediately.
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Jace.
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Rain poured around him.
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His clothes hung soaked against his skin.
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His face appeared pale.
Almost translucent.
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Yet his eyes were desperately urgent.
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He wasn't smiling.
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He wasn't hollow.
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He looked terrified.
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And as Maya approached the glass, he mouthed a single sentence.
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Three words.
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The exact same words from the dream.
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"Don't open it."
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Then he vanished.
- Writer
