The next morning arrived without warning.
No sunrise. No birdsong. Just a slow, silver seep of light through the dusty windowpane, and the groan of the woods waking up.
Evelyn found Silas outside, kneeling at the edge of a stream that cut through the clearing like a scar. He was bare-chested now—shoulders layered with muscle and faint scars, his thick fur damp with dew. She paused, stunned by the strange beauty of him, like a ruined cathedral catching the sun.
He didn't look at her, just spoke low.
> "You should know what they sent you into."
Evelyn stepped closer, arms wrapped tightly around her.
"Then tell me."
---
Silas stood, water dripping from his hands, and faced her.
> "This land wasn't always cursed. Once, it was sacred."
He moved past her, toward the woods, and she followed.
"They called it Hollow's Reach. A valley blessed by nature, protected by ancient spirits. The villagers worshipped the forest. Until the colonists came. Took the land. Burned the groves. And slaughtered those who guarded it."
Evelyn's throat tightened.
"The last guardian—a woman—cast a dying curse. Her blood soaked the roots of the oldest tree, and her spirit bound itself to vengeance. She demanded a sacrifice. Every ten years, a soul must be given. If not—Black Hollow devours them all."
Evelyn frowned. "And the beast?"
He looked at her.
"I am the punishment. The reminder. The prisoner."
---
He knelt near an old stone half-swallowed by moss. Strange carvings wound across its surface like veins. "I was the first to resist. The first to fight the curse. So it bound me to it. Gave me power—and chained me with it."
Evelyn stepped closer.
"You were human?"
"I still am," he said bitterly. "Sometimes."
"But why keep sacrificing girls? Why not stop?"
Silas's voice was cold.
> "Because the curse doesn't care. It needs blood. The elders need peace. And the town needs someone else to blame."
---
A branch snapped nearby.
Both turned sharply.
A figure darted through the trees—cloaked in black, watching.
Silas growled, low and dangerous. "Go inside. Now."
Evelyn didn't move. "Who was that?"
"Not a who," he snarled. "A what. The Hollow watches its own."
---
That night, Evelyn couldn't sleep.
Not from fear—but from fury.
The beast was not a monster.
He was a man used, broken, and buried by centuries of fear. The villagers hadn't just sent her to die—they'd sent her to keep a lie alive.
She stood and walked outside, the cold air biting her skin. Silas was by the firepit, sharpening a blade.
"Why don't you fight them?" she asked.
He looked up, weary. "I've tried. I kill one, ten more come. The curse doesn't end with blood. It ends with truth."
Evelyn's hands curled into fists. "Then tell me how to break it."
He stood, walked toward her, his voice low and haunted.
> "The curse ends when the beast is loved… willingly."
"Not feared. Not pitied."
"Loved."
She stared at him, chest tight. "Is that even possible?"
Silas didn't answer.
He just looked at her… like a man afraid to hope.
---