They didn't say a word for several long minutes after the creature disappeared, as if the silence itself had become heavy and thick. The air around them still hummed softly, but it was not from sound. Instead, it carried a tense energy that clung to every breath. It was the kind of silence that followed a loud scream—a pause full of unspoken fears and unresolved questions. The camp felt frozen in time, waiting for something to break the stillness that had fallen over them.
Ash paced back and forth near the edge of the camp, his footsteps echoing softly on the ground. He was trying to keep his breath steady, trying not to let the shock shake him. He kept staring at the shadows beyond the flickering glow of their lanterns, his mind racing with the image of what they had just seen. Finally, he broke the silence with a rough whisper. "That thing wasn't just watching us," he said, voice strained. "It knew us. It was like it recognized us. Like it was studying us."
Rylan stayed standing with his fists clenched tight by his sides. His face was pale, eyes fixed on the horizon. The faint outline of a glowing sigil shimmered faintly on his hand—a symbol of fire burned into his skin, flickering like dying embers. "It was testing something," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Or maybe it was just waiting… for something." His voice carried a weight that made it clear he believed there was more to the creature's purpose than they could see.
Varyon stepped forward, his eyes dark and thoughtful. He looked at each of them in turn and asked softly, "Waiting for what?" His question hung in the air, heavy and unanswered. None of them responded right away. There was no need. They all knew the truth deep down in their bones. It was waiting—that much was certain. Waiting to see which of them would break first under the pressure. It had no hurry, no fear. It simply observed, patient and quiet as a predator sizing up its prey. Every second that passed only confirmed what they already understood: they were in the creature's game now. It was watching, waiting, weighing their strength and resolve.
That night, they worked quickly to set up stronger defenses around the camp. Lanterns were lit, casting warm, flickering pools of light that barely pushed back the surrounding darkness. Stones were placed in careful circles, acting as a barrier against unseen threats. Blades were kept close at hand, their blades reflecting the dim glow of lanterns, ready for any sudden attack. Despite all their efforts, sleep eluded them. Varyon kept watch over the night, eyes never closing, listening to every sound, every shift in the shadows. Mira sat outside her tent, her sketchbook balanced on her knees, drawing slowly and carefully, her hand moving with patience. She was trying to capture what she had seen, every detail, every hint of movement, even as exhaustion clung to her.
Ash tried to keep a brave face, joking and cracking humor to lighten the mood, but nothing seemed to work. His voice sounded strained, hollow, like the humor was a thin shell hiding his real fear. The jokes fell flat, and the tension remained thick in the air. Lina, on the other hand, pressed her hand into the earth again, but this time, she wasn't speaking to the ground. Instead, she was asking it a question, one that hung unspoken for longer than words could hold. Is it still beneath us? she thought. Her fingers pressed gently into the soil as if searching for an answer buried beneath the roots.
The earth responded with a slow pulse, a gentle throb that reached her fingertips. It wasn't a loud answer, but it was enough. One heartbeat. Then another. The roots nearby shivered and moved slightly, whispering back to her in their quiet language. The response was clear. The roots said: Yes. The creature was still close, still lurking beneath the surface, hidden but very present. That answer changed everyone's thoughts. The threat had not gone. It was waiting just out of sight, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself again.
As midnight approached, the camp suddenly felt a shift. Without warning, the danger reappeared. It wasn't loud or dramatic—no roaring sound or crashing trees. Instead, it came from one of the stones, at the edge of the old ruin they had passed every day. The broken basin, once a simple part of the landscape, now seemed to stir. From within it, a dark form unfurled, shifting and folding into itself. It rose slowly, as if rising from an invisible lid. It wasn't alone this time; behind it, two other shapes stirred. They looked blurry, jagged, like shards of glass that had melted together. One of them let out a hiss—silent, yet unmistakable—while the other simply listened, eyes fixed, waiting for their cue.
And then, motion began. The three figures moved forward, slowly and deliberately, straight toward the camp as if they knew exactly where they were headed. The quiet—and the threat—became real in that moment. Ash was the first to react. His voice cut through the silence, firm and urgent. "Eyes up!" he shouted, grabbing everyone's attention. Instantly, the members of the camp scattered, not out of fear, but instinct. They all seemed to have prepared themselves for this moment, their minds racing for a plan.
Rylan was quick to act. Standing tall, he held out his hand, palm down. Behind him, the fire pit roared suddenly to life, flames leaping high as if responding to his command. Boundaries of fire shot up, forming a glowing wall of light that pushed the creatures back, forcing them into retreat—at least for a moment. The fiery barrier bought them a precious few seconds. Then one of the creatures pushed forward, breaking through the wall as if it weren't there. His voice remained calm, flat. "Not normal," Ash said, drawing his knife with a steady hand. His eyes flicked quickly to the approaching threat. "Definitely not normal."
The creature closest to Mira was the fastest. It darted at her suddenly, without warning—liquid shadow swallowing the space between them almost instantly. Its movement was too quick for her to react. Before she knew it, it was right in front of her, limbs collapsing toward her like a wave of dark smoke. She instinctively raised her hand, her fingers trembling slightly, hoping to do something—anything. Her mind flooded with fear, but then her light responded. It burst from her hand in a pure, brilliant beam—neither fire nor heat, but something brighter, cleaner, more direct. It struck the creature mid-lunge, hitting it squarely. The creature was thrown backward into the trees, vanishing into the darkness with a shriekless hiss.
Silence fell again, thick and tense. And then came the sound—the crackling of breaking glass, of something fragile giving way. The creature's surface was shattering, cracking like fragile ice or brittle memories melting away in the heat of her light. Its form dissolved, fading into nothingness as if it were made of forgotten thoughts. The other two creatures stopped moving, seemingly stunned by what they had just seen. They didn't retreat or attack. Instead, they simply watched in silence, eyes fixed on the glowing figure of Mira. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, they melted back into the surrounding dark, disappearing without a trace.
Rylan hurried to Mira's side, concern etched deep into his face. She was trembling, eyes wide and unseeing, finger still faintly glowing with the remnants of her power. "I didn't mean to— I didn't know—" she stammered, voice trembling as she tried to explain her burst of light.
"You did exactly what was needed," Rylan said softly, voice gentle but firm. "You saved us. You helped us survive." Mira blinked, stunned, still trying to process what had just happened. Her chest heaved with quick breaths. She thought she was going to die—she'd thought her last moment was near. Varyon crouched nearby, staring at the spot where the creature had vanished, his expression serious. "They're not just shadows," he said quietly. "They're more than that."
Lina nodded slowly, her face pale but focused. "They're something else entirely," she agreed. "Not just memories or darkness. Something older, something deeper. They are part of something bigger, something that knows us now."
Rylan stood slowly, his mind racing with the implications. His voice was low but firm. "They're memories," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "Old memories—things that refused to fade away. And now, they're waking up."
Overhead, the quiet of Hollowmere pressed in without a breeze. The trees swayed slightly, as if moved by unseen hands. Deep beneath the ruins, hidden in shadow, something stirred. An unseen eye opened, watching. It had heard everything, understood everything. And it was no longer waiting. Now, it was coming for them.