Deep in the middle of a dark forest, the sound of children laughing and playing filled the air. But suddenly, a huge, scary creature covered in shadows appeared. It was like something from a bad dream. The kids screamed as it came closer.
BANG! The dream ended.
A loud voice shouted,
"Cuco! Wake up! It's eight o'clock! You're going to be late for school!"
Cuco sat up quickly, his clothes wet with sweat. His heart was beating fast. He could still see the forest, the monster, and the scared children in his mind. But one thing stayed clear—a glowing mark on his hand.
As Cuco ran to school, he kept thinking about the dream. It felt too real. At school, his friend leaned over and whispered, "You had the dream again, didn't you?"
Cuco looked at him. "How do you know?"
"You've had that dream for ten years," his friend said quietly. "But this time... something feels different."
Before Cuco could speak, the teacher walked in. "Sit down, class is starting!"
Cuco tried to listen, but his eyes kept going to his hand. The mark from his dream was really there. His friend saw it too. "That's the mark," he said. "I saw it in my dream last night."
After class, Cuco asked, "What's going on with us?"
Before his friend could answer, another student walked over. His name was Linux, the captain of the basketball team. "Cuco, we only have two weeks left before the big game. We need you to practice."
"I... I don't know if I can," Cuco said. "Something strange is happening."
"You're part of the team," Linux said. "You can think about that stuff later."
But Cuco wasn't sure. The dreams, the mark, the strange feeling inside him—it all felt too real to ignore.
Another classmate laughed. "Cuco, stop thinking about weird dreams. Basketball is what matters."
Cuco looked down at his glowing hand, then back at them. "You don't get it. Something is coming. And I think... it's coming for me."
Cuco walked home slowly after school. The sky was cloudy, and a strange wind blew through the streets, making the trees shake and whisper. He kept staring at the mark on his hand—it was glowing again, just a little, like it was alive.
Suddenly, Cuco stopped. He felt something behind him. He turned around fast—nothing was there. The street was empty. But he knew he wasn't alone.
That night, Cuco couldn't sleep. He kept hearing the sound of leaves rustling outside his window. At midnight, he sat up in bed. The mark on his hand was glowing brighter now, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Then, he heard it—a deep growl, coming from the forest behind his house.
Cuco's body froze. The sound was the same as in his dream.
He grabbed a flashlight and sneaked out of the house. The night air was cold. The forest looked darker than usual, like the trees were closing in.
As he walked deeper into the woods, the growling got louder. He saw shadows moving between the trees. Something was watching him. Then he saw it—two glowing eyes, staring straight at him from the darkness.
The beast from his dream stepped out. It was real.
Cuco wanted to run, but his legs wouldn't move. The beast growled again, and the mark on his hand lit up like fire.
Suddenly, a voice whispered in his head:
"You are chosen. You must remember who you are."
Then, everything went black.
Chapter 2: The Whisper in the Woods
The next morning, Cuco sat quietly at the breakfast table, staring into his cereal like it held answers. His mom talked in the background, something about laundry, something about school—but her words felt distant, like they were coming from underwater.
That dream—or whatever it was—kept playing over and over in his head. The growl. The eyes. The mark on his hand, which now had faded into nothing, leaving his skin smooth like nothing ever happened.
He checked it again, just to be sure.
Still nothing.
Maybe he was losing it.
At school, Cuco barely heard what the teachers said. His friend—Tariq—watched him carefully from the next seat, like he knew something Cuco didn't.
"Did anything weird happen last night?" Cuco finally whispered.
Tariq paused. "Why?"
"I... I thought I saw something. In the woods."
Tariq leaned in, eyes narrowing. "You went out there?"
Cuco nodded slowly. "I couldn't sleep. I heard... something. So I followed it."
Tariq's voice dropped to a whisper. "You shouldn't have done that."
Cuco frowned. "Why not?"
But Tariq didn't answer. He just looked at Cuco's hand. "Is the mark still there?"
Cuco's eyes widened. "How do you know about that?"
Tariq gave a tight smile. "You're not the only one having dreams."
The bell rang before Cuco could say more.
The rest of the day passed like a blur. Cuco kept thinking about what Tariq had said. If they were both dreaming the same thing, it couldn't be just a dream, right?
That night, Cuco sat on his bed, staring out the window at the tree line behind his house. The forest was still. Too still. Even the crickets were quiet.
He turned off the light and lay down, but sleep wouldn't come. Around midnight, something clicked.
Not outside.
Inside.
It was the window latch.
Cuco sat up fast.
The window was open.
But he hadn't opened it.
A soft breeze rolled in, and with it... a whisper.
Very faint, like someone speaking from deep underground:
"Come back..."
Cuco froze.
The wind died.
The whisper stopped.
But his hand was glowing again.
Chapter 3: The Unseen Circle
Cuco didn't sleep the rest of the night.
By the time morning came, his eyes were red, and his thoughts were tangled like knots. He kept thinking about that whisper. About the open window. About the way the wind seemed to know his name.
He didn't tell his mom. What would he even say?
At school, everything looked the same—but something felt off.
He noticed the halls were quieter. People weren't making as much noise as usual. And when Cuco passed a group of students by the lockers, they suddenly went silent. Stared at him.
Then looked away just as fast.
Tariq met him by the classroom door. "We need to talk. After school."
"About the dreams?" Cuco asked.
"Not just dreams," Tariq said, his voice low. "There's more you need to see."
The rest of the day crawled by, the air thick with tension. Even Linux—the usually confident, loud basketball captain—seemed distracted, watching Cuco from the corner of his eye like he was something dangerous.
When school ended, Tariq led Cuco through the back hallways, past the old storage rooms no one used anymore.
"Where are we going?" Cuco asked.
"There's a door," Tariq said. "It's always been there. But only some of us can see what's behind it."
They reached the end of the hall. There was nothing there but a wall and a dusty janitor's closet.
Tariq walked right up to it, placed his hand on the closet door... and the air around them shimmered, like heat off asphalt.
Then the wall behind the closet shifted—just slightly—and a thin, hidden door appeared. Almost like it had been waiting for them.
"Welcome to the Circle," Tariq whispered.
The door creaked open.
Inside was a small, dark room lit by flickering candles. Symbols were painted on the walls—some Cuco recognized from his dream. Others made his skin crawl just looking at them.
Three other students stood in the room already—students Cuco had seen around school but never spoken to. They all had one thing in common:
The mark.
Glowing faintly on each of their hands.
A girl with short black hair stepped forward. "You saw it, didn't you? The Beast."
Cuco nodded slowly.
"Then it's starting," she said. "The seal is weakening. And the one who woke it... is already among us."
Chapter 4: The One Who Woke It
Cuco's heartbeat thundered in his ears as he stepped into the candlelit room. Shadows clung to the stone walls, shifting and stretching with every flicker of flame. The air was thick—hot, yes—but it carried something more. Something ancient. Watching.
Behind him, Tariq eased the hidden door shut. The faint click echoed like a verdict.
"You're not alone anymore," said the girl with black hair. Her voice was calm, almost too calm, but her eyes—sharp and ember-bright—told a different story. They were eyes that had seen things, survived things. "My name is Nox. And we've all been marked."
Cuco looked around. A tall boy with round glasses gave a quiet nod. Next to him, a short girl in a faded hoodie raised a hand in a wary greeting. They didn't just look different—they felt different. Like each of them carried something buried beneath the skin. A weight. A secret.
Nox gestured toward the center of the room, where a battered leather-bound book lay open on a stone pedestal. "The dreams. The mark. The creature. They're all part of something older than us. An ancient chain. A cycle. It's happened before. Every time, it ends the same way."
Cuco took a shaky step forward. "What is the Beast? Why me? Why now?"
The boy with glasses answered, voice quiet but steady. "It's not just a beast. It's a breaker. A guardian of thresholds. It wakes when the balance between our world and something else begins to crack."
The girl in the hoodie added, barely above a whisper, "And you saw it first. That means the crack is widening. You're the Key."
Nox stepped closer. "Which also means they will come looking for you."
"They?" Cuco's voice came out as a rasp.
Tariq's tone turned grim. "The Hollow Ones. Not fully beast, not fully human. Shadows wrapped in human skin. They're already here. Inside the town."
A loud bang echoed from somewhere beyond the room.
Everyone froze.
Footsteps. Slow. Heavy. Just on the other side of the wall.
Nox turned sharply to Cuco. "Did someone follow you?"
"No—I came straight from class, I swear—"
The candle flames danced violently. A cold draft curled through the room like a whisper. The lights buzzed.
Then—
Knock. Knock.
Two slow raps on the hidden door.
Silence.
A voice came next. Crooked and wrong, like a puppet mimicking speech it didn't understand.
"Cuuu-coooo…"
Cuco felt his blood go cold.
"You're not supposed to remember, little spark," the voice hissed. "But now… you've seen too much."
The wall trembled.
Nox's eyes widened. She pointed toward the far corner. "We have to go. Now. There's another exit—through the tunnels."
Tariq grabbed Cuco's arm. "Come on. We don't have much time."
Cuco hesitated.
Long enough to hear one last whisper through the wall.
"You can't run forever, Key. We'll find you… even in your dreams."
And then they ran, fleeing into the dark below.
Chapter 5: Echoes of the First Seal
The tunnel beneath the school stretched like the throat of some sleeping beast—narrow, damp, and breathing the scent of earth, stone, and secrets long buried. Cuco's footsteps pounded behind the others, the sound swallowed quickly by the walls as they ran deeper, farther—away from the voice, from the hidden door, from the thing that had whispered his name like a curse.
Torches flared to life as they passed, one by one, flames leaping up as if the tunnel knew. As if it was waiting.
"Where does this even go?" Cuco called out, breath catching.
"To the Archive," Nox replied over her shoulder. "It's buried beneath the old churchyard. That's where the truth is. The records of what's been, and what's coming."
A sharp turn led them into a vast, circular chamber. The ceiling arched like a cathedral dome, carved from stone blackened with age. Candles drifted in the air, their flames dancing without wind, illuminating rows upon rows of ancient tomes nestled into the walls like bones in an ossuary.
At the center stood a pedestal, cracked down the middle like a wound. Upon it rested a slab of jet-black stone, its surface webbed with glowing crimson veins that pulsed slowly, like a heartbeat.
Nox stepped forward, her voice hushed. "The First Seal."
Cuco stared. The stone called to him—quietly, insistently. The faint red glow matched the mark on his hand. He stepped closer, drawn to it.
Tariq rested a steadying hand on his shoulder. "It remembers. The seal stores echoes from the last time it shattered. Look, Cuco. See."
Cuco reached out. The moment his fingers touched the stone, the world shifted.
The Archive vanished.
He stood in the remnants of a burning village, ash swirling like snow. The air was thick with smoke and sorrow. Screams rang out—raw, distant. Fires devoured the rooftops. And in the shadows, things moved. Some shaped like beasts. Others like people… missing their faces.
In the midst of the chaos stood a boy—no older than Cuco, but with eyes lit like coals and a mark burning bright on his palm.
The boy stood alone. Holding the line. Not with blades, but with sheer force of will. Power surged from the ground, the sky, from deep within him—twisting into flame and fury.
Cuco could only watch as the boy faced something massive and monstrous—a creature rising from a jagged rift in the earth, crowned with horns and cloaked in shadow.
The two forces clashed.
Then, in a heartbeat, it all unraveled.
The boy's scream echoed through the smoke, and the creature laughed—a sound like stone grinding bone.
The world cracked in two.
Then—darkness.
Cuco fell backward, gasping, ripped from the vision as if torn from a dream. The Archive returned around him.
"What… what was that?" he whispered, shaking.
Nox's voice was quiet. "The last Key."
"He failed," Tariq added solemnly. "The seal shattered. That's when the Circle was formed. To stop it from happening again. To find the next Key when the time returned."
Cuco looked down at his hand. The mark was glowing now—brighter than before.
"It's me," he said, barely audible. "I'm the next one."
As if responding to his words, the chamber gave a faint tremor. Dust drifted from the ceiling. The veins in the black stone flared brighter.
Then came a voice. Soft, ancient, and not quite human.
"The Key must choose… Light or Shadow. Open the gate… or seal it forever."
The words hung in the air like smoke.
All eyes turned to Cuco.
The mark on his hand blazed to life—red, hot, alive.
And the First Seal pulsed again.
Chapter 6: The Hollow Ones
The stone beneath Cuco's boots still thrummed with the old magic, a rhythm deep as a heartbeat. The seal held—for now—but the mark on his hand, once brilliant, had dimmed to a tired flicker. Whatever vision had claimed him had also stolen his strength.
He raised his gaze, voice rough as wind over broken glass.
"What if I choose wrong?"
Nox's expression sharpened, eyes narrowing like a night sky thickening before a storm.
"There's no undoing the path, Cuco. Light or Shadow. Once chosen, it brands you. Forever."
Tariq stepped forward, solemn, hand lifted to reveal his own mark—a dull echo of power long quieted.
"We've all touched it. But you? You're the Key. Your choice tilts the scale for everyone."
Cuco stepped back, his heartbeat echoing in his ears.
"I never asked to be the Key."
A girl in a grey hoodie—her voice barely more than breath—spoke without meeting his eyes.
"No one ever does. But if you run… they will find you. And they won't wait."
The silence that followed cracked—sharply, violently—as if the world itself were breaking in two.
The chamber trembled beneath their feet. From the far wall came a slow, unbearable sound. Stone shearing against stone. A claw dragged across the bones of the world.
Then: mist.
Thick. Black. Living.
It oozed through the fractures like rot through old wood. Candles sputtered, shadows writhed—and from the cracks, something stepped forward.
It wore the shape of a person.
But it wasn't.
Its eyes didn't blink. Its skin was too smooth, its smile too perfect, too empty.
When it spoke, it wasn't with one voice—but dozens. All layered. Whispered. Nightmarish.
"Key…" it crooned. "You burn so sweetly. Let us wear your fire. Let us in."
Nox moved fast, a shield of presence alone.
"This ground is sealed. You have no claim here."
The Hollow One tilted its head—almost childlike, almost amused.
"For now. But the seal cracks. The wall between dream and waking thins. Soon… even light will bleed."
Tariq grabbed Cuco's shoulder, urgent.
"They don't need to kill you. Just break you. Just bend you enough to open the door from inside."
Cuco's breath caught as the others crept through.
One crawled low like a spider.
Another dragged limbs too long for any human frame.
A third smelled like burning leaves and old death.
The mark on Cuco's hand burned again—harder, deeper. Not pain. Not quite. A pull. A rhythm. Something old stirring beneath his skin.
And then he understood. These weren't just creatures.
They were echoes. Lost dreams twisted into nightmares.
Fragments of what was forgotten.
He stepped forward.
"I need to fight."
"You're not ready," Nox said, voice tight.
"I wasn't ready yesterday," Cuco replied, lifting his hand. "But they came anyway."
The light surged.
The Hollow Ones shrieked, hissing and pulling back. One disintegrated under the flare, its scream like glass being ground into dust. But the first—the perfect one—merely smiled.
"You shine bright now, little Key," it whispered. "But the brighter the flame… the darker the shadow. We will wait. We always do."
Then it vanished—like mist chased by sunrise.
Silence fell, sudden and hollow.
Cuco dropped to his knees. The mark's light flickered low, but something inside him had changed.
He wasn't just the boy haunted by dreams anymore.
He was the spark.
And the storm was coming.
Chapter 7: The Forgotten Dreamer
The Archive had gone quiet again, but it wasn't a silence of peace.
It was the kind that listens.
The kind that breathes.
The kind that waits.
Cuco's hand still shimmered faintly, the light now no more than an afterthought, a dying ember in the vast dark. Around him, the others watched—quiet, cautious—as if unsure whether he might rise with new power or crumble into ash.
He broke the silence with a question that had been coiled in his chest since the mist receded.
"Who were they?" he asked. "The Hollow Ones. Where did they come from?"
Nox said nothing at first. Instead, she moved to the far end of the Archive and pulled a book from the shelves—a thick, dust-covered tome, wrapped in black cloth and bound with string that looked more ceremonial than practical.
She placed it into Cuco's hands.
"They're not from here," she said at last. "Not really. They're what's left of people who lost themselves between the worlds. When the boundary between dream and waking crumbles… that's what's left behind."
Tariq stepped forward, voice softer than usual.
"Some of them were like us once. Chosen. Called. But not all Keys stay whole."
Cuco opened the book carefully.
Its pages were thick, yellowed with age, and filled with names.
Sketches.
Notes written in ink that had bled through the parchment. Some of the faces had their eyes scratched out. Some were marked with strange runes. And all of them… looked eerily familiar. Like faded memories of teachers long retired. Friends he couldn't name but felt he once knew. Shadows from a dream.
Then he turned a page.
And froze.
A girl stared back at him from the worn paper. Her features were soft but sharp with quiet resolve. A faint birthmark curved just above her brow. Her eyes seemed to follow him.
Isabela Reyes.
The words beneath her picture read:
> Last seen near Hollow Creek. Dreamer-Class Initiate. Status: Unknown.
Cuco's mouth went dry.
"She was one of us?"
Nox nodded slowly.
"The last Key before you. Ten years ago."
"She vanished," Tariq said. "On the longest night of the year. No trace. No sound. Just… gone. But some of us still hear her. In dreams. Calling for help."
Cuco's fingers lingered on the page.
Hollow Creek. That name rang inside him like a bell.
"That's near where I live."
Nox's gaze narrowed.
"The gate's moving. The veil's shifting. Like something—or someone—is drawing it closer."
Cuco stood, the book still in his hands.
"I'm going there. Tonight."
Tariq caught his arm, eyes hard with warning.
"You don't just walk into Hollow Creek, Cuco. It's a mirror. A lure. What took her might still be waiting."
Cuco shook him off.
"Then I'll find out what she saw. Maybe… she's still alive."
The room fell into silence again.
Then, Nox gave a small nod.
"Fine. But we go together. And we go ready."
---
Later That Night
The moon loomed low over Hollow Creek, casting a silver sheen across the forest canopy. The trees leaned too far inward, as if eavesdropping. The air was colder here—colder than it should've been—and every breath felt stolen from a dream not meant to be remembered.
Cuco stepped forward.
The mark on his hand ignited with a faint, pulsing glow.
And the path appeared.
A thread of pale light unfurled before them, weaving between gnarled roots and hanging branches, drawing them into the forest's breathless heart.
"Once we cross," Tariq murmured, "we leave our world behind."
Cuco didn't hesitate.
He stepped into the light.
With each footfall, the world warped. Sound bent sideways. Shadows grew teeth. The forest whispered in languages not spoken since the first dreamer closed their eyes. Memories clung to the air—half-formed, forgotten, aching to be seen.
Then, a sound.
A voice.
Faint. Floating.
"…Hello?"
Cuco froze.
He knew that voice.
Not from his visions.
Not from the Archive.
But from the forest.
From years ago.
From the day he got lost in these woods as a child.
"Cuco… is that you?"
He turned.
And there she was.
Standing at the edge of the glowing path.
A girl.
His age.
Same face. Same soft determination. Same birthmark.
Isabela.
Unchanged.
Untouched by time.
Still dreaming.
Chapter 0: Isabela
Ten Years Ago
Isabela Reyes was thirteen the first time the mark burned itself into her skin.
It came in the middle of the night—searing into her palm like a brand from some ancient fire. She jolted awake with a cry, just as the lightbulb above her shattered, raining glass and sparks across the floor.
Her parents came running, confused, frightened.
She told them it was just a bad dream.
They believed her.
But the mark didn't fade.
And the dreams… only deepened.
Every night she returned to the same forest—twisted and unreal, stitched together with memory and nightmare. She heard laughter that didn't belong. Saw children running barefoot through the trees. And something else…
Something chasing them.
A beast made of shadow and smoke.
Every night, she got closer to it.
By the time the Circle found her, she was no longer an ordinary girl. She was stronger. Quicker. And something inside her had begun to lean toward the dark, like a flower bending toward a black sun.
Nox had been the first to approach her—barely sixteen then, but already weathered by secrets. Tariq followed soon after, younger, curious, eyes full of questions he never asked aloud.
Together, they trained Isabela.
They taught her how to listen for the Hollow Ones.
How to draw sigils that burned in the air.
How to drown out the voices whispering from the veil.
But no lesson prepared her for the day the seal broke.
It happened in winter.
Snow fell soft as ash.
The streets were quiet.
Too quiet.
She was walking home alone, her breath misting in the cold, when the world simply… stopped.
Time unraveled.
Cars froze mid-turn. Leaves hung motionless in the air. Even the snowflakes halted, suspended like tiny daggers in a frozen sky.
Then the earth cracked.
And something rose.
A Hollow One—towering and terrible, shaped from memories she didn't remember having. Its body was woven from smoke and shattered thought. Its voice didn't speak aloud—it entered her, cold and smooth as ice sliding behind her ribs.
> "You are the door," it said.
"And it is time to open."
Isabela didn't run.
She fought.
The mark on her hand ignited, a column of white fire surging skyward. She screamed, power tearing through her veins like lightning through wire, and the creature split apart in a howl of static and rot.
But as it fell, something else emerged.
A mirror.
Old. Floating. Fractured.
And inside it—her.
But not as she was.
This Isabela was older. Pale. Eyes black and endless. A shadow where a future should be.
And the reflection spoke:
> "You don't defeat it by fighting."
"You defeat it by becoming."
Her own voice.
Twisted.
Familiar.
Then the mirror reached for her.
And touched the mark.
Pain bloomed behind her eyes like a thousand suns exploding inward. Her scream fractured the air. She collapsed.
And in that moment, she saw it.
The First Dreamer.
Sleeping far beneath the world.
And now… beginning to wake.
She woke hours later.
In the heart of Hollow Creek.
Alone.
Her hands blistered. Her veins glowing faintly beneath her skin.
When the Circle found her, she didn't speak.
Didn't cry.
Just whispered, voice raw and distant:
> "The gate isn't closed anymore."
Then her mark turned black.
And she vanished.