The stone sat in the middle of Mavis's dresser like a forbidden relic. It hadn't moved, hadn't made a sound, but the room felt different. The shadows pressed a little closer. The air didn't move right.
She stared at it before bed, unsure whether to laugh at herself or lock it away. Eventually, she stuffed it inside her nightstand drawer and climbed under the covers.
The dreams started immediately.
Fog rolled in thick and slow, curling around her like fingers. In the distance, a figure waited—tall, faceless, its body bending slightly at unnatural angles. It didn't move toward her, only watched. Behind it, the Ashwood Tree stood bare and trembling. The roots pulsed like veins.
She couldn't wake up.
She couldn't look away.
When morning came, Mavis jolted upright, gasping. Her sheets were damp with sweat, and her nightstand drawer was cracked open.
The scarf was on the floor. The stone lay on top.
Across town, Noa stood barefoot in the backyard. Her breath fogged in the air, though it wasn't cold. Dirt clung to her hands, under her nails. Her nightgown was stained, hem trailing in the grass.
The sunrise glowed pale above the hollow, barely piercing the thick mist still settled over the lawn. Her mother's voice echoed faintly from inside the house.
She didn't remember how she'd gotten outside.
Noa stared down at her feet. The grass was flattened in a spiral beneath her.
Later that afternoon, the girls gathered in Astra's basement studio. Sketches were pinned to every wall—moons, trees, fog-covered roads. But today, her usual calm had turned jittery. She kept glancing at the wrapped stone in Mavis's backpack.
"I keep seeing things in my dreams," Mavis said, her tone light, but her eyes tight. "It's probably nothing, but…"
"You saw it too?" Celeste asked, her voice a whisper.
Everyone turned.
"The tree," she said. "With the roots. And the fog. There was something in it. Hiding."
Riven crossed her arms. "We're not actually saying this thing is haunted, are we?"
"It's not haunted," Astra said, slowly. "It's alive."
Noa sat apart from the others, fingers tugging at the threads on her sleeve. Her eyes were distant. "It was buried for a reason."
Riven stood up. "Then let's take it back. Tonight. Dump it where we found it."
"You really think it'll let us?" Celeste asked. Her voice trembled, and her hands clutched at the sleeves of her sweater.
The tension in the room thickened.
The stone pulsed once—faintly, like a heartbeat under the floor.
Noa winced. She heard it again. Noa…
Riven didn't flinch. "I'm serious. This is how horror stories start, and we're not going to be those girls. We take it back. We won't touch it again."
Mavis stood. "Fine. But I'm not doing it alone."
"I'll come," Celeste whispered.
Astra looked to Noa. "What about you?"
Noa didn't answer. Her eyes were fixed on the stone's shape through the bag. Her fingers twitched.
The pulse came again. Louder this time. Closer.
Something in her blood answered it.
That night, fog blanketed Thornwick Hollow so thick it swallowed the streetlights. The town clock tower chimed off-beat. Dogs refused to go outside. The Hollow was waking.
The girls didn't return the stone.
They just held it tighter.