Episode 4
1278 Words
The Hollow Beneath the Roots
The lanterns did not move.
They stood silently at the edge of the forest like glowing spirits watching the village from afar. Rainwater shimmered around them, reflecting golden light across the muddy ground while terrified villagers backed away in whispers and panic.
Amara could barely breathe.
There were too many.
At least twenty lanterns rested along the dark forest path, their flames burning steadily despite the wind. Some were large and ancient-looking, while others appeared small enough to carry by hand. None of them should have been there.
A frightened child began crying somewhere behind her.
“The curse has returned,” an old woman whispered shakily.
“No,” another man muttered. “This is worse than before.”
Villagers hurried indoors, slamming doors and windows shut one after another until only a few people remained outside. The air smelled of rain, fear, and smoke from cooking fires abandoned too quickly.
Beside Amara, Baba Duro tightened his grip on his wooden staff.
“This has never happened before,” he murmured.
Eli stared toward the lanterns with narrowed eyes. “They’re trying to send a message.”
Amara looked at him. “A message?”
Before he could answer, one of the lanterns flickered violently.
Then another.
Suddenly, every flame dimmed at once.
The village fell into darkness.
A cold wind swept across the square, carrying with it a faint sound from deep inside the forest.
Singing.
Soft.
Distant.
Beautiful enough to make the skin crawl.
Amara froze instantly.
Her mother’s voice.
The same lullaby drifted through the wind, echoing between the trees like a ghost searching for someone lost.
Several villagers covered their ears in fear.
Others began praying aloud.
Then, just as suddenly as it began, the singing stopped.
The lanterns brightened again.
And one by one, their flames turned toward Amara.
Her heart nearly stopped.
It felt impossible, yet unmistakable — every lantern now faced directly at her.
Eli noticed it too.
“They know who you are,” he whispered.
A sharp fear twisted inside her stomach.
Before anyone could react, the lantern closest to the village suddenly tipped over.
Its glass shattered against the muddy ground.
The flame exploded upward in a burst of golden light.
People screamed.
For one horrifying moment, a shadow rose from the broken lantern — tall, thin, and almost human in shape. Its body twisted like smoke while hollow white eyes opened slowly in the darkness.
Amara stumbled backward.
The creature let out a low sound that resembled breathing underwater.
Then it vanished.
The remaining lanterns went dark instantly.
Silence swallowed the square.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Finally, Baba Duro exhaled shakily.
“Everyone inside!” he shouted.
The villagers scattered immediately.
Amara’s grandmother grabbed her wrist tightly. “You are coming home now.”
But Amara pulled away.
“No.”
The old woman stared at her in disbelief.
“You saw that thing!”
“That’s exactly why I can’t ignore this anymore.”
“You are a child!”
“And my mother disappeared because nobody stopped this!”
Her grandmother’s face crumpled with pain.
For a moment, guilt flickered in the old woman’s eyes.
Then Baba Duro stepped forward.
“She deserves to know the truth.”
“No truth is worth losing her too,” the grandmother whispered.
Eli glanced toward the forest path. “We’re running out of time.”
Amara looked between them carefully.
“The Hollow,” she said quietly. “We need to find it.”
Her grandmother shook her head violently. “Absolutely not.”
“That map belonged to my mother,” Amara insisted. “She wanted someone to continue what she started.”
“She wanted to protect you.”
“And maybe protecting me means ending this curse.”
The old woman had no answer.
Rain dripped softly from the rooftops around them.
Finally, Baba Duro spoke.
“If we go, we leave before sunset tomorrow.”
Her grandmother stared at him as though betrayed.
“You cannot seriously support this madness.”
“I support survival,” Baba Duro replied grimly. “Because if the lanterns are appearing inside the village now, then the barrier is weakening faster than we feared.”
Amara frowned. “What barrier?”
The old man looked toward the dark forest.
“The Lantern Tree was never meant to trap spirits forever. Long ago, rituals kept the darkness beneath it asleep. But over time, those rituals stopped.” His voice lowered. “Now something beneath the roots is waking up.”
A cold silence followed.
Eli unfolded the map again carefully.
“The Hollow should be somewhere north of the tree,” he said. “Near the old river tunnels.”
Baba Duro nodded slowly. “There are caves beneath the hills. Most collapsed years ago.”
“Not all of them,” Eli replied.
Amara noticed something strange then.
One section of the map had writing hidden along the edge, almost invisible beneath faded ink.
She moved closer.
“What does this say?”
Eli held the lantern higher.
The handwriting was shaky and rushed.
If the singing calls your name, do not answer.
Amara’s throat tightened.
That warning had clearly been written by her mother.
Another line beneath it read:
The Hollow remembers grief.
A strange chill crawled down Amara’s spine.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from somewhere nearby.
Everyone turned sharply.
One of the village goats had broken loose from its pen and was running wildly through the muddy street.
But it was not alone.
Something moved behind it.
Fast.
Dark.
Low to the ground.
Amara barely saw it before it disappeared between two houses.
The goat screamed.
Then silence followed.
The villagers nearby panicked instantly.
“What was that?”
“Did you see it?”
“Spirit protect us…”
Baba Duro’s expression darkened.
“It’s hunting already.”
Amara’s pulse pounded painfully in her ears.
Eli stepped closer beside her.
“We need to leave this village tomorrow,” he whispered. “Before nightfall.”
“For the Hollow?”
He nodded.
Amara looked toward the distant forest.
Even from here, she could see the faint golden glow of the Lantern Tree through the rain and darkness.
Watching.
Waiting.
Somewhere beyond those hills, her mother’s secrets were buried beneath roots and shadows.
And something terrible was waking beneath them.
That night, the village became silent long before midnight.
No drums played.
No fires burned outside.
Every door remained locked.
Inside her room, Amara sat beside her small oil lamp reading deeper into the journal while thunder rolled softly beyond the hills.
The later entries frightened her most.
The tree feeds on sorrow.
The lanterns grow brighter after death.
I hear voices beneath the roots now.
Then, near the final pages, she found something else.
A drawing.
It showed the Lantern Tree surrounded by circles carved into the earth. Beneath the drawing, her mother had written only three words:
It has a heart.
Amara stared at the sentence for a long time.
A heart.
Not a spirit.
Not simply a curse.
Something alive.
A sudden sound interrupted her thoughts.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Her breath stopped.
The noise came from her window.
Slowly, Amara lifted her eyes.
A lantern glowed outside the glass.
Floating.
Not hanging from a branch.
Not resting on the ground.
Floating silently in the darkness beyond her window.
Its golden light flickered softly against her frightened face.
Then came the singing again.
Closer this time.
And for the first time in three years, Amara heard her mother’s voice speak clearly through the darkness.
'Find me'.
- Writer
