Will floated in the dark.
At first, it felt like a dream — warm, heavy, endless. A place without pain or sound. But slowly, the quiet began to breathe. The shadows pulsed, thick and alive, like a heart beating somewhere far below him.
"Do you see now, William?"
The voice was gentle — familiar — and it made his chest ache.
"Mom?" he whispered.
Light flared faintly ahead. Through the haze, he saw her — his mother — standing in the soft glow of what looked like morning. She was smiling, her eyes full of love. The same blue dress she wore the day she died fluttered around her like mist.
"You've grown so much," she said softly, stepping closer. "I'm so proud of you."
Will's lips trembled. "Mom… you're here? Where— where are we?"
She reached out and touched his face. Her fingers were cool, too cool.
"Home," she said. "We're finally home."
Behind her, the light bent strangely. Trees swayed without wind. The forest wasn't far — he could feel it, hear it breathing. There was a low hum beneath his feet, like something ancient stirring in the soil.
Will stepped closer, tears blurring his vision. "I've missed you so much."
"I know." Her smile widened. "But you don't have to miss me anymore. You don't have to hurt."
Her voice echoed, rippling through the air like a whisper through water.
Will froze. There was something else beneath her tone — something that didn't belong.
He blinked, and for a split second, her eyes weren't blue. They were black — deep, endless black.
He stepped back, shaking his head. "You're not her…"
The smile never faltered. "Why would you say that, Will? I'm right here. I've always been here."
The trees behind her began to move — bending, twisting into shapes that looked almost human. Their branches formed faces, watching him. Their mouths opened silently, each one mouthing the same word: Stay.
Will stumbled backward, heart pounding. "Where's my dad? Where's Robert?"
Her voice softened again. "He left you, remember? He always does. When you needed him most, he turned away. You were alone. I was the only one who stayed."
He shook his head violently, clutching his ears. "No! That's not true!"
But the forest seemed to agree with her. Every whisper in the dark spoke his fears aloud — He failed you. He failed them all. He'll fail again.
The ground pulsed beneath his feet, red light glowing faintly through the soil. Something was breathing with him — matching his heartbeat, his trembling breath.
"You're special, William," his mother said again, but now her voice was layered, a thousand voices speaking at once. "You were born to bring balance… to bridge what was broken."
"Stop!"
But the air thickened, pressing against his chest. Her hand — no longer soft — gripped his shoulder, nails digging into his skin. Her smile turned wider, her teeth sharper.
"Don't be afraid," she whispered. "You are the vessel. The one who will make me whole."
The world around him fractured — shadows curling inward, wrapping around his arms and legs like roots. He screamed, struggling, but the darkness held him close.
And through the swirling black, her face leaned close to his ear.
"Soon, they'll come for you," she murmured. "Your father, the priest, the sheriff… They'll try to take you away again. But when they see what you've become… they'll know it's already too late."
The voice faded, replaced by the sound of the forest — alive, breathing, waiting.
Will's body went still. His eyes opened slowly, glowing faintly red in the dark.
Then he whispered, almost peacefully, "I'm ready."
_____________________________
The forest shuddered.
The trees groaned as if under an unseen weight, their roots trembling, stretching toward the boy at the center of it all. Will stood still — too still — his small frame outlined by a faint, pulsating glow that came from beneath his skin. His eyes no longer looked like his own; they flickered between human warmth and something ancient, something cold.
The Hollow's voice whispered through the wind, low and rhythmic, like a chant.
"Two realms… one breath… one will."
As the words echoed, Will's feet lifted slightly off the ground. The soil beneath him cracked, veins of red light spiraling outward like a living network — pulsing toward the edges of the forest, toward the town.
The earth breathed.
In the center of the glowing pattern, Will's arms spread slightly, as though the Hollow were pulling invisible strings. His lips parted, and though his voice was small, it carried a power that made even the shadows bow.
"They will see," he whispered, his tone not his own. "They will remember the old debt."
The red light coursed faster, branching out beneath the surface like veins of fire. The roots beneath the forest floor surged, pushing through soil and stone. In the distance, houses trembled. Cracks crawled up the walls. Every windowpane in the town seemed to hum, faint and hollow.
And far away, in the fields and gardens, the plants began to bleed again — thin streams of crimson dripping from leaves and stems, soaking the ground in silence.
The Hollow's voice spoke again, through Will's mouth this time — deep, echoing, layered with dozens of whispers.
"The bridge is open. The town breathes with me."
Will's body arched slightly, his fingers twitching as the air around him shimmered, distorting reality itself. Faces appeared in the mist — fleeting, ghostly — the faces of those lost to the Hollow before. Children, men, women… their mouths moving silently in a wordless prayer.
But every few seconds, Will's own consciousness flickered through — a spark of the boy still fighting inside.
"Please… stop…" he gasped weakly, his voice breaking through the Hollow's tone. "I don't want this—"
The shadows wrapped around him tighter, dragging him down to his knees. The light beneath him brightened, and for an instant, he looked almost divine — a figure caught between worlds, glowing and breaking at once.
"You are the vessel," the Hollow whispered from everywhere at once. "And through you, the Hollow will live again."
The air turned heavy, pressing the trees down as if the forest itself was bowing in reverence. The barrier between the two realms — the town and the Hollow — was thinning, trembling like a fragile glass about to shatter.
Will's tear-streaked face turned toward the town, his eyes glowing brighter.
And with a voice not his own, he whispered:
"Let it begin."
The forest fell silent.
Then, one by one, the streetlights across the town began to flicker… and go out.