Tom's house was quiet when Robert and the sheriff arrived — too quiet for a place that once rang with laughter. The porch light flickered weakly, casting long shadows across the yard.
Robert hesitated before knocking. The memory of what had happened in the woods — Tom's body twisting under the Hollow's grip — still haunted him. But he had to be sure. Maybe… maybe there was still something left of his friend.
When no one answered, the sheriff stepped forward and called, "Mrs. Harland? It's Sheriff Harlan."
A moment later, the door opened. Tom's wife stood there, pale and trembling, her eyes red from sleepless nights. "Sheriff… Robert." Her voice cracked slightly. "He's back. Tom's back."
Robert froze. "What?"
She nodded quickly, tears welling in her eyes. "He came home last night. Just… just walked in. Said nothing. Didn't even look at me. He went straight upstairs. I thought he was just exhausted, but—"
A small sound interrupted her — the creak of a floorboard upstairs.
Both men looked up.
"Where are your daughters?" the sheriff asked.
"In their room," she whispered. "I didn't let them go near him. Something's wrong, Sheriff. He doesn't feel like Tom."
Robert exchanged a glance with Harlan. "Stay here," he said gently.
They climbed the stairs slowly, each step groaning beneath their weight. The air was cold — unnaturally cold — and carried a faint metallic scent, like wet earth and smoke.
At the top of the stairs, Tom's bedroom door stood ajar. The dim light inside flickered as if something invisible passed through it.
Robert pushed the door open.
Tom sat on the edge of the bed, head bowed, hands clasped tightly together. His shirt was torn, his skin ashen, eyes sunken and lifeless — yet open.
"Tom?" Robert's voice was soft, unsure.
Tom's head turned slightly, but too slowly, like a puppet's motion. His lips twitched into a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You came," he murmured.
The sheriff stepped forward cautiously. "Tom, where have you been?"
Tom's gaze lifted toward them. For a fleeting moment, Robert thought he saw something moving behind his friend's pupils — shadows writhing, shifting. "I've been… below," he said quietly. "It showed me things."
Robert's throat tightened. "What did it show you?"
Tom looked down at his hands. They were blackened around the fingertips, veins pulsing faintly with something dark. "The price we never paid."
From the hallway, one of the daughters screamed.
Robert turned sharply. "Stay here!" he shouted, rushing toward the sound.
The sheriff moved to follow, but Tom's hand shot out — gripping his wrist with unnatural strength. "It's too late," Tom whispered, voice layered — his, and something else beneath it. "The Hollow is inside. It's everywhere now."
The sheriff struggled free, stumbling back. Tom's head tilted at an unnatural angle, his mouth twitching into a grimace that looked like pain — or laughter.
Robert reached the girls' room and froze. The two daughters stood by the window, eyes wide with terror. The glass was fogged over from the inside, as though something breathed against it.
Their mother clutched them tightly. "Robert—he's not my husband!" she sobbed. "That thing—whatever came back—it's not him!"
From the bedroom came a low, guttural sound — a voice that no longer belonged to Tom.
> "One more. That's all it takes."
Then silence.
Robert rushed back into the room — but Tom was gone. The window by the bed hung open, curtains swaying in the cold night wind.
The sheriff lowered his gun, eyes wide with disbelief. "He's gone…"
Robert stepped closer to the open window, staring into the darkness beyond. The woods loomed, whispering faintly with a voice that wasn't the wind.
He swallowed hard. "No," he said, voice low. "He's not gone. He's waiting."
Behind them, Tom's wife sank to her knees, clutching her daughters. The older girl whispered, trembling, "Daddy said the Hollow needed one more."
The sheriff's jaw tightened. "And now we know who that one might be."
Robert turned toward the door, the journal clutched tightly in his hand. "We're running out of time, Sheriff. Whatever's happening—it's spreading."
The fog had started to crawl down the street outside, creeping toward the houses like a living thing.
Robert didn't look back as they left. Inside, Tom's wife locked the door — but even she could feel it: the air, the shadows, the whisper under her breath that sounded almost like Tom's voice.
> "One more…"
_____________________________
The children huddled together, shivering in the darkness. The Hollow's presence pressed down on them like a living weight, its voice curling through the cavern walls.
> "You've served well, my little ones," it whispered, soft and curling around their ears like smoke.
"But one among you shines brighter… one who has been chosen."
Will's eyes widened. "Chosen… for what?" he asked, voice trembling.
> "For something far greater than the others," the Hollow replied, its tone almost tender.
"You are special, William. Stronger than the rest. Brave. You carry a light they cannot match."
The shadows shifted. A cold tendril of darkness reached toward him, lifting him gently yet firmly off the ground.
"No! Stop!" Ethan cried, trying to grab him, but the darkness passed through his hands as if he were nothing.
> "Do not fear, child," the Hollow said, wrapping him in its smoky embrace.
"You should be proud. You have been chosen because you are meant for more. Fear will not touch you here… only purpose."
Will's heart pounded, but there was no pain — only a strange weight, a pull that carried him upward, away from the circle of terrified children.
> "Remember this, little one," the Hollow whispered. "You are not like the others. You are the beginning… the key. The chosen."
The children watched helplessly as Will disappeared into the darkness, the echoes of his startled cries fading into the cavern's depths. Ethan's sobs filled the silence.
The Hollow's laughter rippled through the chamber, low and victorious:
> "The circle is complete… and the chosen has been taken."
The remaining children clutched each other, trembling, their eyes wide in terror. The Hollow had chosen. The Hollow had separated Will.
And in the oppressive quiet that followed, they realized the truth: the Hollow was no longer just a threat — it had a plan, and Will was at the center of it.