The next morning, Evelyn stepped out into a fog-soaked world.
The trees were so tall they blotted out the sun. The air smelled of damp earth and iron, and something distant—like burning sage or decayed flowers.
She grabbed her coat and car keys, determined to explore the town and clear the unease from her bones. The night had been restless—scratching sounds, cold wind that seeped through the walls, and dreams full of fire and growling voices.
---
Black Hollow's main street was barely more than a strip of buildings: a general store, a chapel with cracked stained glass, a diner called Marnie's, and a silent post office that looked abandoned.
As she walked past, people stopped to stare.
Not glance. Stare.
Two women on a bench stopped talking the moment they saw her. An old man sweeping his porch leaned on his broom and watched her pass, his eyes narrowed with something more than suspicion—like pity.
Evelyn stepped into the general store, where a bell above the door gave a tired jingle.
The woman behind the counter froze the moment their eyes met.
"You're... her granddaughter, aren't you?" she said, her voice low and brittle.
Evelyn nodded. "Yeah. Margaret Hart was my grandmother. I—uh—I'm staying at her place now."
The woman didn't smile. She didn't welcome her. She just muttered, "You shouldn't have come back."
Evelyn blinked. "Excuse me?"
The woman leaned in. "Did she leave you the journal?"
That caught Evelyn off guard. "Yes."
"She warned you then?"
Evelyn hesitated. "About... the woods?"
The woman's jaw clenched. "The woods, the moon, the sacrifice—she told you something, didn't she?"
Before Evelyn could respond, a sharp voice cut in from the back of the store.
"Enough, Martha."
An older man stepped forward, tall, with skin like cracked leather and a faded sheriff badge pinned to his coat.
He gave Evelyn a thin smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You'll forgive my wife. Folks around here get jumpy when old legends start getting stirred up again."
"It's not a legend," Martha snapped.
The man ignored her. "You're welcome to stay, Miss Hart. But mind the boundaries. These woods aren't like the city parks you're used to."
Evelyn swallowed. "Right…"
"I'm Sheriff Darrell. If you need anything—let me know. Just don't go wandering too far after dark."
"Why?" she asked.
His eyes darkened. "Because not everything that walks these woods is willing to let you go back."
---
Evelyn left the store shaken.
The townspeople weren't just superstitious—they were afraid. But afraid of what?
She clutched the paper bag of essentials and climbed back into her car, glancing toward the tree line on the edge of town.
The forest loomed, silent, dense, as though it were listening.
And Evelyn couldn't shake the feeling that she was already being watched.