Lyra tightened the straps on her leather gauntlets as she moved through the town's mist-laden streets, her senses sharp and ready. She'd felt the presence of someone—or something—watching her ever since she entered Whisperwood, but nothing had dared to approach. Yet.
Kael had vanished into the fog the night before, but Lyra wasn't one to let unanswered questions linger. The box she'd found in the inn sat heavy in her satchel, its strange carvings still glowing faintly, as though alive. Whatever secrets this town held, they were tied to that box—and to the man who seemed to know more than he let on.
The trail to Kael's dwelling wasn't hard to find. Broken branches and deep footprints led her through the outskirts of the town and into the woods, where the trees stood impossibly tall, their twisted roots snaking across the ground like veins. The air here was thicker, the whispers she'd heard before now louder, forming fragmented sentences that made no sense.
"The child... the altar... shadows don't lie..."
She shook them off, her grip tightening around the hilt of her dagger. Her mentor had always said that fear was a weapon if wielded correctly, and Lyra knew how to wield it better than most.
The forest opened suddenly to reveal a clearing, and at its center was a dilapidated cabin. Its roof sagged under the weight of years, and the windows were boarded up, but smoke curled lazily from the chimney. A figure stood near a chopping block, splitting logs with methodical precision.
"Kael," Lyra called, her voice firm and unwavering.
The man didn't pause in his work, splitting one last log before setting the axe down and turning to face her. In the daylight, she could see him more clearly. He was older than she'd first thought, his face lined with the kind of weariness that came from carrying a burden for too long. His dark eyes flicked to her satchel, where the box was hidden, and his expression hardened.
"I told you to leave," he said.
"And I told you I can't." Lyra crossed her arms, her stance deliberate. "You know what this place is, and you know why I'm here. So, you can either help me, or you can stay out of my way."
Kael let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "You think this is a fight you can win? You have no idea what you've stepped into."
"Then tell me." Lyra stepped closer, her voice sharp. "You know something about the box. About the whispers. About the girl I saw in my vision. You've survived here for a reason, Kael. I'm not leaving until I get answers."
For a moment, they stood in silence, the air between them heavy with tension. Finally, Kael gestured toward the cabin. "If you're so determined to throw yourself into the fire, you might as well come inside."
The interior of the cabin was sparse, filled only with the essentials: a cot in the corner, a table littered with maps and books, and a fireplace crackling with warmth. Lyra's eyes were immediately drawn to the symbols carved into the walls—similar to those on the box.
Kael noticed her staring. "They keep the shadows out," he said simply.
"What are the shadows?" she asked.
"Not what," he corrected, sitting heavily in a chair. "Who."
Lyra frowned, but Kael continued before she could question him. "This town was cursed decades ago, and no one escapes its grasp—not alive, anyway. The shadows you've seen? They were once people. Whisperwood's people. The curse didn't just kill them; it turned them into... something else."
"The girl in the vision," Lyra said slowly. "She was part of it, wasn't she?"
Kael's jaw tightened. "Her name was Aelina. She was..." He hesitated, his eyes flicking to the fire. "She was innocent. Too pure for this place. That's why they chose her."
"Chose her for what?"
Kael didn't answer directly. Instead, he reached for a book on the table, flipping it open to a page filled with sketches and handwritten notes. He pushed it toward her.
Lyra leaned closer, her breath catching as she took in the drawings. They depicted a ritual—an altar surrounded by hooded figures, a girl lying at its center. Above them loomed a dark, twisted shape, its form barely humanoid, with jagged limbs and hollow eyes.
"The Hollow Saint," Kael said quietly.
Lyra's stomach turned. "That's what they summoned?"
Kael nodded. "The townspeople were desperate. They thought The Hollow Saint would save them from a plague. Instead, it cursed them—and the land—forever. Aelina was the key. They sacrificed her to bind the Saint to this place, but something went wrong."
"What went wrong?"
"She didn't die," Kael said, his voice grim. "Not completely. Her soul was bound to The Hollow Saint, trapped between life and death. Now, she's the one controlling the curse."
Lyra's mind raced as she absorbed his words. "And the box? How does it fit into this?"
Kael's eyes darkened. "That box belonged to one of the townspeople who performed the ritual. It's a key—but to what, I don't know. I've spent years trying to figure it out, but..." He trailed off, his gaze distant.
Lyra stood, determination burning in her chest. "Then I'll figure it out. If Aelina is the one controlling the curse, I'll find her. And I'll stop her."
Kael stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head. "You're either brave or foolish," he said. "But if you're serious about this, you need to be careful. The shadows will come for you, and once they do, there's no going back."
"I can handle myself," Lyra said firmly.
Kael sighed. "We'll see."
As Lyra left the cabin, the whispers in the woods grew louder, more insistent. She gripped the hilt of her dagger tightly, her jaw set. Whatever awaited her in Whisperwood, she would face it head-on.