THE CURSED TOWN

The consecrated ground

The storm had not stopped.

Thunder cracked across the sky like a warning bell as Sophie and Elliot stood on the porch of the Caldwell house. The revelation had rendered both of them silent for a long while. Sophie stared out at the woods, the same woods where Nathan vanished, the same woods where dreams came to life and reality bent like paper soaked in blood.

The house was a gate.

She could still feel the weight of the Hollow God inside those walls, slithering in the silence, watching.

“What do we do now?” she asked, her voice hollow.

Elliot handed her a folded page from the town archives. “We find the place where the first blood was spilled. According to this, the original consecration site was deep within the woods—before Cedar Hollow was even a town.”

Sophie took the page. On it was a crude, hand-drawn map—trees, a ravine, and a single X marked Sanctum Root.

“That’s not on any modern map,” she said.

“No,” Elliot replied. “But my grandfather used to talk about it—said it was ‘where the trees never grew right.’”

Sophie nodded and tucked the map into her jacket. She didn’t bother packing. Whatever this place was, whatever lay waiting, it wouldn’t be reasoned with. It had her brother. And it had been feeding on this town for centuries.

They drove as far as the trail would allow, headlights bouncing across the winding dirt path as branches clawed at the windows. When the road ended, they continued on foot. Rain slicked the mossy ground, and fog clung low to the forest floor like a hungry creature.

An hour passed before they reached it.

The trees changed gradually—twisted into impossible shapes, some bending backward, others growing together as though embracing in agony. The ground grew soft underfoot, thick with mud and something else. Something that pulsed.

At the heart of it was a clearing.

And in the center stood a stone altar, cracked but standing. Vines crawled over its surface, but its shape was unmistakable—a table of sacrifice. Blackened grooves ran along its sides, evidence of centuries of bloodletting.

“This is it,” Elliot said, almost whispering.

Sophie stepped forward. Her breath caught in her throat.

Carved into the altar were the same symbols Nathan had drawn. The spirals. The overlapping triangles. And at the center, the figure with many eyes, its mouth sewn shut.

The Hollow God.

“What do we do?” Sophie asked.

Elliot approached the stone and placed a palm against it. Nothing happened.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But this is where it began. And maybe it’s where it can end.”

Sophie crouched beside the altar, running her fingers along the carvings. Something pulsed beneath it—a faint vibration. A heartbeat in the stone.

Suddenly, the earth beneath them trembled. Birds scattered from the trees. The air thickened again, and the sky above the clearing grew darker, blackening unnaturally.

And then they heard it.

Whispers.

Not from around them, but below.

Sophie’s eyes went wide. “There’s something under us.”

The two of them circled the altar, searching, until Elliot called out. “Here!”

He pointed to a section of ground sunken just slightly—enough to suggest a hatch or buried entrance.

They dug with their hands, fighting against the roots and soaked earth. After several minutes, their fingers struck wood. A trapdoor.

Elliot pried it open.

A yawning blackness stared back at them. The air that escaped was ancient—thick with the scent of decay and the coppery tang of old blood.

Sophie didn’t hesitate.

She descended the stairs first, flashlight in hand, heart hammering. The wooden steps creaked beneath her weight, and somewhere below, water dripped steadily—like a countdown.

The chamber was massive.

Beneath the clearing was an underground shrine. The walls were carved with scenes—humans kneeling before a monstrous figure with countless limbs. Some depictions showed children placed upon altars. Others showed people willingly sacrificing themselves, smiling through the horror.

Sophie’s stomach turned.

“This is a tomb,” she whispered. “A church.”

“No,” Elliot replied behind her, voice low. “It’s both.”

At the center of the chamber was a pit.

Roughly ten feet across, rimmed with old bones. And at its bottom… movement.

Sophie leaned closer, and what she saw made her blood run cold.

Nathan.

Bound in roots. Suspended in the air like an offering. His skin was pale, lips parted, but his chest moved—barely. He was alive.

“Nathan!” she cried out, rushing forward.

Elliot caught her. “Wait! Look—”

The roots pulsed with dark energy. The moment Sophie crossed the circle, the chamber groaned. The pit began to glow faintly, and a figure began to rise.

It was not fully formed. Shadow and bone, smoke and screaming faces. The Hollow God.

“You have come to take what belongs to me,” it whispered.

Sophie stood her ground. “He’s not yours.”

The god’s form trembled. “The pact was sealed in flesh. This town feeds me. He is the offering.”

“No one agreed to this,” Elliot said, voice trembling.

The god’s voice turned cruel. “You did not have to. Your ancestors did. And blood travels with the name.”

The roots holding Nathan shifted—tightened. He groaned in pain.

Sophie’s rage snapped.

She stepped into the circle.

Instantly, her skin began to burn. Visions slammed into her skull—flashes of every sacrifice, every life consumed by this thing. A child dragged screaming into the pit. A priest giving his own daughter. Her own mother, kneeling in this very room, whispering apologies.

“Let him go!” Sophie shouted, through tears.

“Replace him,” the god said. “I will release him if you take his place. Your blood for his. A daughter for a son. A sister for a brother.”

Sophie hesitated.

Elliot stepped forward. “There has to be another way—”

Sophie ignored him. She walked to the edge of the pit and raised her arms. The god surged forward, eager, the smoke of its form slithering toward her.

But Sophie had come prepared.

From her coat, she pulled the original journal—the one from the church ruins. She flipped to the final page. It wasn’t just a diary. It was a ritual.

She began to recite the words.

The Hollow God shrieked. The ground split. Wind howled through the chamber, and the light turned red.

“NO.”

“Let him go,” Sophie shouted. “Or I burn this place to the ground!”

The entity surged toward her—but too late. Elliot hurled a flare into the pit. The roots ignited instantly, screaming like flesh. Nathan fell—into Sophie’s arms.

The Hollow God roared in agony as the flames consumed its shrine. The bones cracked. The walls shook.

They ran.

Up the stairs. Out into the storm. The earth buckled behind them as the altar split in half. Fire erupted from below.

They collapsed just outside the clearing, coughing and soaked.

Nathan stirred. Alive.

Sophie cradled him, sobbing.

“It’s over,” Elliot said.

But Sophie looked back at the burning trees and the distant sound of whispers.

“No,” she said. “Not yet.”