Chapter Eight
1052 Words
Chapter Eight: The Unspoken Truth
The drive back to the cabin felt like hours.
Every passing minute was a reminder of what they’d seen the thing in the trees, the way it mimicked Mark’s voice, and the terrible truth that no one, not even Lachlan, could deny anymore. Her brother was lost, trapped in something she couldn’t yet understand. And the creature, whatever it was, would stop at nothing to claim him.
“You’re quiet,” Lachlan said, breaking the silence. His voice was steady, but there was something hard in his tone.
“I’m trying to understand,” Elena replied, her voice thick with exhaustion. “Trying to wrap my head around… all of it. I thought I was just looking for him. But now” She stopped herself, her eyes focused on the road ahead. “Now, it feels like I’m being led somewhere.”
“You’re being tested,” Lachlan said, his gaze fixed on the dark road. “Not everyone gets to make it out of the woods. It takes more than just strengthit takes the will to face what you’ve lost, and to let it go.”
Elena clenched her hands on the wheel. She wasn’t sure she could *let go* of Mark. Not yet. Not when his face was so close, his voice so real.
When they arrived back at the cabin, Lachlan didn’t waste any time. He led her inside, taking off his coat and hanging it by the door. Then, without another word, he went to the back of the cabin and disappeared into the shadows.
Elena sat at the table, the weight of the evening’s events heavy in her chest. The tooth still burned in her pocket. She hadn’t let it out of her sight since Lachlan gave it to her, the strange engraving on it now seared into her mind.
Lachlan returned moments later, holding an old leather-bound book. He set it on the table and looked at her, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t name.
“This is the journal of the last person who tried to stop the creatures in the woods,” he said, his voice tight. “A woman named Althea Harrow. She was a witch.”
“A witch?”
He nodded. “She lived here long before me. She tried to fight the thing that’s after your brother. But she failed.”
Elena opened the journal, its pages yellowed with age. The handwriting was messy, frantic, as if the writer was losing herself with every word.
“She didn’t just fight it,” Lachlan continued. “She *became* it. The thing, the force, that controls everything in this forest whatever it is marked her. Used her.”
Elena scanned the pages. The words blurred together: rituals, symbols, chants. But the last entry made her pause.
“The voice calls to me again. The thing that wears the face of my brother. It speaks of the one who cannot be saved. I will break the chain. I will not let it take me as it did the others. If my soul must be its price, then so be it.”
Elena’s pulse quickened. Her fingers shook as she read the last sentence. “She she knew the voice?”
Lachlan sighed heavily. “Yes. It mimics those closest to you, lures you in with memories and promises. But once it has you, it owns you.”
“I don’t understand,” Elena whispered. “Why does it want us? Why my brother?”
“Because you are connected to it,” Lachlan said. “Your bloodline. The Harrows were always tied to this land. The rituals they practiced, the bargains they made they opened doors. And now, those doors are closed… except for you.”
Elena shook her head, unwilling to accept it. “So, what am I supposed to do now? Sit here, read books about it, and wait for it to come back?”
“No,” Lachlan said firmly. “You will go to Hollow Ridge. There is something there that might help you might.”
She looked up, frustration burning in her chest. “Might help me how? How do I stop this thing from taking him?”
“You don’t stop it.” Lachlan’s voice softened, almost mournful. “You face it.”
Elena stood, pacing the small cabin. “Face it? And what? Let it kill me too? Like it did to Mark? Like it did to Althea?”
“No,” Lachlan said quietly, stepping closer. “Not to kill you. But to take the choice away.”
Her heart pounded in her chest. “What choice?”
Lachlan looked down, his expression unreadable. “The choice to live.”
The Hollow Ridge felt different in daylight.
Elena stood at the edge of the forest, feeling the weight of every step. The wind had picked up, rustling the leaves like whispers. But it wasn’t just the wind she heard. There were *voices*, too, distant, low, and humming, almost like a chant. Her heart skipped a beat.
Lachlan had warned her to wait said it would be dangerous to approach without understanding what lay ahead but Elena couldn’t wait any longer. She had to know.
The ridge was a jagged series of rocks, rising sharply against the sky. Jagged and unforgiving. The kind of place where memories linger, suffocated by the weight of everything lost.
And there, buried deep within the stones, was a small altar. Weathered stone, ancient symbols carved into it. A place of power, or perhaps of desperation.
As she approached, the air grew colder. The voices became clearer. Not voices in the wind. But whispers. Calling.
“Elena…” The voice was unmistakable.
Mark.
She dropped to her knees at the altar, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “Mark! Please, I don’t know how to bring you back!”
The whispering grew louder. The voice Mark’s demanded her attention, beckoning her closer.
A shadow moved behind her.
Elena whirled around, her pulse racing.
A figure stood in the darkened forest. Its silhouette was tall and thin, its face hidden by the shadows.
“Who are you?” Elena demanded, her voice shaking.
The figure stepped forward, revealing a twisted, hollow face.
The creature was back.
- Writer
