The village was waking slowly, but the unease in the air was unmistakable. Chizzy stood near the edge of the market square, eyes scanning faces—some curious, others wary. The Hollow's silence since her last sealing felt fragile, like a thin glass wall barely holding back a gathering storm.
Kiran arrived beside her, his expression grim. "It's not over," he said simply.
Chizzy nodded. "I can feel it. The shadows are stirring again. But this time, it's different. Stronger."
They moved toward the ancient ash tree at the heart of the village. Its bark was scarred, a living map of battles fought long before they were born. Underneath the twisted roots, the Hollow pulsed faintly—an unseen wound beneath the earth.
"Last night," Chizzy began, "I dreamed of the Watcher. He warned me: the seal is cracking. Something wants out."
Kiran's eyes darkened. "And it won't wait for us to be ready."
A sudden chill swept through the square as a sharp wind tore leaves from the trees. Villagers paused, exchanging nervous glances. Old Maku approached, clutching her shawl tighter.
"You feel it too?" she asked, voice trembling.
Chizzy knelt beside the roots, placing her palm against the rough bark. A faint vibration thrummed beneath her fingers—a pulse of dark energy, fractured and uneven.
"It's the veil between our world and theirs," Chizzy said. "The Hollow's barrier is weakening."
Maku's gaze flicked to Kiran. "Then we must prepare. The old wards, the protective charms—they might hold for a while longer."
Chizzy stood, turning toward the village. "We need everyone to help. This isn't just my fight."
That afternoon, she and Kiran moved from home to home, urging the villagers to gather herbs, light candles, and recite prayers passed down through generations. Fear mingled with hope as the people came together, united by a threat none fully understood.
Yet beneath the surface, darker forces stirred.
That night, as Chizzy lay restless in her cottage, the blade on her bedside table pulsed softly. The mark on her arm tingled with a familiar heat. She closed her eyes, seeking the strength buried deep within her bloodline.
A sudden noise shattered the silence—a scratching at the window. Heart pounding, Chizzy rose and pulled back the curtain.
Nothing but shadows.
But as she turned, a shadow flickered in the corner—a glimpse of movement too quick to grasp. Her breath caught. The veil was thinner than ever.
Kiran's voice echoed in her memory: "They're coming."
The next morning, the village awoke to strange sights. Crops wilted overnight; animals acted skittish, refusing to drink from the well. Whispers of disappearances traveled like wildfire. Talia, the girl they had saved, was gone.
Chizzy felt the weight of the Hollow pressing down on her chest. The fractures in the veil were no longer distant threats—they were here.
"We need to find her," Chizzy said to Kiran, urgency sharpening her tone.
He nodded, already reaching for his dagger. "And fast. Before the shadows claim more."
The path ahead was darker than ever.
But Chizzy's resolve burned brighter.
The Hollow's secrets were unraveling, and she would stand between the village and the darkness—no matter the cost.