The clearing was hollow and cold, a breathless expanse where sound seemed to die before it could fully form. The air was heavy, saturated with an ancient sorrow that pressed down on Eleanor, stealing the warmth from her skin. She stood frozen at the edge, her chest heaving, her fingers clenched around the journal's spine, the leather digging into her palm.
At the center of the clearing stood the stone altar, tall and imposing, carved from a dark, weathered rock that seemed to drink in the light. Its surface was etched with runes that twisted and writhed, their edges blurred as if they were shifting even now, alive beneath her gaze. They pulsed with a faint, sickly light, a rhythm that matched the echoing thud of her heartbeat.
The ground around the altar was barren, scorched black as if by fire. No grass grew here, no leaves drifted down from the twisted branches above. Even the air felt dead, stale and unmoving, weighed down by a curse as old as the earth itself. Eleanor's skin prickled, the hairs on the back of her neck rising as she took a step forward, the silence pressing against her ears, suffocating.
The journal grew warmer against her chest, its presence grounding her, anchoring her in this haunted place. She lifted her chin, her eyes fixed on the altar, her breath fogging the cold air before her. A faint hum vibrated through the ground, a distant murmur that felt more like a memory than sound. The earth beneath her feet seemed to breathe, the shadows swirling around the stone, bending toward the altar, drawn to its power.
Eleanor took another step, her body trembling, her heart pounding in her chest. Each movement felt heavy, as if invisible hands were holding her back, pulling her toward the edge of the clearing. But she forced herself forward, her gaze locked on the altar, her mind focused on the journal and the secrets it held.
"The Echo binds all who come before it. It weaves their souls into the darkness, their voices lost to the wind. Only through sacrifice can the cycle be broken."
Her mother's words were scrawled in the margins of the last journal entry, the ink smudged as if her hand had trembled while writing. Eleanor's heart clenched, a cold ache blooming in her chest. She had read those words over and over, trying to understand their meaning, but now, standing before the altar, she could feel the truth in them, heavy and cold, curling around her bones.
A whisper drifted through the clearing, soft and broken, carried on the still air. "Eleanor…"
Her heart lurched, her breath catching. She turned sharply, her eyes scanning the shadows that hung at the edge of the clearing, but there was no one there. Only the twisted trees, their branches curled downward like skeletal fingers, their bark cracked and blackened. The shadows shifted, bending toward her, stretching long and thin across the ground.
"Eleanor… come to us…"
The voice was faint, fragile, like a breath of wind, but it was unmistakable. It was her mother's voice, the cadence familiar, the tone warm and soft, tinged with a sorrow that made Eleanor's chest tighten. Her vision blurred, her eyes stinging, her hands trembling as she turned back toward the altar.
The runes pulsed, the light brightening, the symbols twisting and shifting. The air around the altar shimmered, bending, distorting, and a shape began to take form—a figure standing behind the stone, tall and slender, the edges flickering like smoke.
Eleanor's breath caught, her knees weakening. The figure stepped forward, its body translucent, the features blurred, but she recognized the shape of the face, the curve of the shoulders, the familiar way the hair fell across the forehead. Her heart twisted painfully, her vision swimming as she took a trembling step closer.
"Mother…"
The figure's head tilted, the face coming into focus. Her mother's eyes were sad, the dark circles beneath them heavy, her lips parted as if she were about to speak. Her hair drifted around her shoulders, moving as if caught in a gentle breeze, though the air was deathly still.
"Eleanor… you were never meant to return here…"
The words were soft, broken, the voice echoing strangely, layered with a deeper resonance that sent a chill through Eleanor's spine. She took another step, her body trembling, her heart aching with a longing she couldn't put into words. "I had to… I had to know the truth…"
Her mother's face twisted, pain flickering across her features, her eyes darkening. "There is no truth here, only echoes… echoes of what was lost… of what must be forgotten…"
The air grew colder, the shadows lengthening, stretching across the clearing, their shapes writhing like smoke. The runes on the altar pulsed brighter, the light spilling across the ground, curling around Eleanor's feet. She shivered, the cold seeping into her bones, the ache in her chest deepening. "You knew… all this time, you knew about the sacrifices… about The Echo… why didn't you tell me?"
Her mother's face softened, her shoulders sagging, her eyes growing distant. "I tried to protect you… I tried to keep you away from this curse… but fate is cruel, and the cycle cannot be broken… not without a price…"
The words hung in the air, heavy and hollow, echoing through the clearing. Eleanor's blood ran cold, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs. "What price?"
Her mother's form began to waver, the edges flickering, the face blurring. Her eyes grew darker, shadows pooling beneath them, her voice fading. "The price… was my soul… and soon, it will be yours…"
The shadows surged forward, curling around the altar, wrapping around her mother's figure, pulling her backward. Her face twisted in pain, her eyes wide, her mouth opening in a silent scream as the darkness swallowed her, her body crumbling into smoke, the air growing colder, the light from the runes fading.
Eleanor stumbled back, her legs buckling, her body collapsing to the ground. She stared at the altar, her heart shattering, her vision blurring with tears. "No… no!" Her scream tore through the clearing, raw and broken, but there was no answer, only the hollow echo of her voice, the cold wind curling around her, the shadows pressing closer.
She knelt on the cold ground, her fingers digging into the earth, the journal clutched to her chest, her body shaking. Her mother was gone—trapped, bound to this cursed place, lost to The Echo. And now, she understood the truth.
The price to break the curse was her.