They returned to the grove at dawn.
The trees stood silent but heavy, their trunks veined with blackened lines that hadn't been there days before. The great ash in the center ofthe one that had bled was now cracked at its base, as if struck by lightning from within. The air vibrated with tension, a hum beneath the birdsong. Chizzy's lantern glowed faintly with every step she took.
Ezra moved ahead, a shovel strapped to his back. "We need to know what's underneath. No more guessing."
Chizzy hesitated as she approached the tree. A strange sensation curled in her stomach, not fear—but something older, like memory trying to surface. She touched the bark. It was warm, pulsing like skin.
Ezra started digging near the base where the blood had once seeped out. The soil gave way easily, too easily almost as if it had been waiting. They didn't speak, only worked, the scrape of the shovel and the churn of dirt filling the silence.
Then the blade struck something hard.
Ezra knelt, brushing the soil away with gloved hands.
A stone slab. Perfectly smooth. Etched with a sigil Chizzy didn't recognize but it stirred something in her bones.
She crouched beside him, tracing the design with her fingers. It was circular, with jagged runes etched into the outer ring and a symbol in the center: a flame split in two.
"It's not a grave," she whispered. "It's a seal."
Ezra nodded. "And it's weakening."
The earth beneath them groaned deep, guttural. A long crack raced across the slab. The runes glowed briefly, then dimmed again.
Chizzy stood, the flame in her lantern flaring as if stirred by breath. "He said I had to choose," she murmured. "Between forgetting and becoming."
Ezra looked up at her. "What does that mean?"
"I think… it means I have a role to play. One my mother refused."
The words left her mouth before she fully understood them. But they felt right.
She knelt and pressed her palm to the slab. The stone warmed beneath her touch, then pulsed with light. Images flashed behind her eyes a woman singing to a tree, a girl hiding a lantern under her bed, a boy with black eyes watching from the shadows.
Ezra grabbed her shoulder. "What's happening?"
"I can feel it," she said. "This place it responds to my blood. My name."
A tremor ran through the grove. The ash tree groaned loudly, its trunk widening like a mouth trying to scream.
Suddenly, a cold wind tore through the forest. The mist thickened, and from the edge of the grove, a figure stepped into view.
Tall. Hooded.
Not the Hollow Man.
But familiar.
The black-eyed boy.
"You've found the gate," he said, voice calm. "Now you must decide whether to open it… or guard it forever."
Ezra stepped in front of Chizzy. "She's not doing anything until we understand what's on the other side."
The boy smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You already know. You've both seen glimpses."
Chizzy stood slowly. "What happens if I open it?"
"You release what your ancestors locked away a truth too heavy for this world."
"And if I guard it?"
The boy's smile faded. "You'll never be free. But the world will remain blind… and safe."
The slab beneath them pulsed once more, cracking wider.
The choice was no longer far off.
It was now.