Elena's breath still hadn't steadied from the run, her chest rising and falling in uneven bursts. The hollow felt different from the rest of the forest not just in how it looked, but in how it watched. The tall stones loomed around her, their carved grooves seeming to shift in the corner of her vision.
Then he stepped into view.
A man.
It took a moment for her to register that he hadn't arrived but had simply been there, as though the shadows had peeled back to reveal him. He was tall, lean, with sharp features that carried both weariness and precision like someone who'd lived through too many nights like this one. His clothes were plain but sturdy: dark trousers, a weather-beaten coat, boots caked with mud.
"You're standing in a threshold," he said, his voice low but carrying easily through the still air.
Elena blinked at him. "A what?"
"A place where two things meet but not the kind you'd want to be caught in."
Her gaze darted to the nearest stone. "What are these?"
"Markers," he said simply, his eyes scanning the circle as though checking for something invisible. "You feel it, don't you?"
She hesitated. "…Yes."
"That's not good."
He stepped closer, the faint hum in the ground responding to his movement, growing deeper, more insistent.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Marcus." The way he said it was unadorned, yet it carried a weight that made her uneasy as if the name alone should answer more questions than it raised.
"What are you doing here?"
His expression didn't change. "Waiting."
"For what?"
"For you."
Her pulse spiked. "You were expecting me?"
"I was hoping you wouldn't come," he said, almost to himself. "But now that you have…" His eyes flicked to the largest stone, where the grooves pulsed faintly. "…we need to move before it wakes fully."
"It?"
Marcus didn't reply. He reached for her hand without hesitation, his grip firm but not cruel. "Don't look back," he said.
As they stepped out of the circle, the ground beneath the stones shifted slow at first, then with a deep, deliberate push, as though something vast was stretching just below the surface. The hum became a low, vibrating growl.
A sharp, hollow click echoed from somewhere beyond the trees. Elena froze.
Marcus's head turned slightly toward the sound. His voice was a quiet command. "Walk. Now."
They moved into the narrow, root-tangled path. The air thickened with damp earth and the faint scent of rot. Behind them, the clicking grew clearer steady, patient, wrong.
By the time they reached the first bend, Elena realized the sound wasn't fading. It was following.
And then Marcus's pace quickened, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "If we stop, it catches us."
The path plunged into deeper shadow, and the rattling grew louder