THE CURSED TOWN

The legacy of the hollow

The statue stood in the center of the square like it had always been there.

Rain clung to its twisted surface—stone arms outstretched, palms open as if inviting the town to kneel. From beneath its eyelids, dark streaks flowed down its face like tears. Sophie’s breath caught as she stepped closer. She couldn’t look away.

“It’s him,” she whispered.

Elliot said nothing. He stood beside her, pale and still, staring at the unholy monument. The Hollow God’s image—etched in granite and shadow—had risen overnight.

“This… wasn’t here before,” he murmured.

“No,” Sophie agreed. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”

Around them, Cedar Hollow held its breath. The shops were shuttered, windows drawn. The storm had broken, but the silence that followed was heavier than thunder. Sophie turned slowly, watching the way the town seemed to cower under a sky smeared with crimson clouds.

“This is what happens when the boundary starts to tear,” Elliot said. “The Hollow bleeds into our world.”

Sophie clenched her fists. “Then we’re out of time.”

⸻

Back at Elliot’s house, Nathan was missing.

The couch where he’d slept was empty, cushions twisted and damp. The front door hung open, swaying gently in the breeze. Sophie rushed outside, calling his name, but only the trees answered—bending, creaking.

They found him an hour later, standing at the edge of Hollow’s End—the cliff overlooking the valley, the place where the town’s founders once sealed the pact.

Nathan’s clothes clung to his thin frame, and his eyes glowed faintly with something unnatural. He turned slowly as they approached, like he already knew they were there.

“Don’t come closer,” he said.

“Nathan, please,” Sophie begged, heart pounding.

“They showed me everything,” he said. “What this town is. What we are.”

Sophie stopped cold. “What do you mean?”

Nathan’s gaze drifted to her, but it didn’t feel like he was seeing his sister. “We’re Hollow-born. Blood from the founding families. Chosen by the pact.”

“No,” she said quickly. “You were taken. You were possessed by whatever was down there.”

He smiled—a slow, eerie smile. “And yet I remember it all. I remember Mom kneeling in the underground chamber. I remember her voice when she said, ‘Take me, not them.’” His voice dropped. “But she lied. She didn’t take the curse with her. She passed it on.”

Sophie staggered back. The cliff wind howled.

“She marked you, Sophie. Not me. You were always meant to be the vessel.”

Elliot whispered, “She’s the legacy.”

⸻

They brought Nathan back, but he slept fitfully. Sometimes, he murmured in a voice not his own. Sometimes, he whispered her name. Sophie sat by his side as thunder rolled faintly in the distance.

She clutched the silver charm they had found near the altar. The spiral etched into its face pulsed faintly in her hand. It was old. Older than the church. Older than Cedar Hollow.

“Do you know what this is?” she asked Elliot.

He nodded. “A binding mark. Worn by the chosen. It binds the soul to the Hollow.”

Sophie didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.

She felt it. Felt it in the marrow of her bones. A hum beneath her skin. A pull toward the woods.

Later that night, she walked alone to the edge of the tree line. The air was colder there, touched by something ancient.

And then she saw her.

A woman, standing between the trees.

Wearing Sophie’s mother’s coat.

Her hair wet. Her hands pale.

“Mom?” Sophie called out.

The woman stepped closer. Her eyes were dark hollows. Her lips moved soundlessly.

Then she pointed.

Not at Sophie—but at the town behind her.

At the statue.

At everything.

⸻

The next morning, Sophie stood in the middle of Main Street. The sky was darker now, permanently dim. Birds no longer flew over the rooftops. The people who remained moved like ghosts—quick, wary, glancing over their shoulders at nothing.

Something had awakened.

Sophie placed the charm around her neck.

“I know what I have to do,” she told Elliot.

He looked at her warily. “You’re not going back there alone.”

“I have to. I need to see what she saw. I need to understand what she became.” She hesitated. “She didn’t die down there. She became part of it.”

Elliot’s voice broke. “You might not come back.”

Sophie smiled, but there was no light in it. “I already didn’t.”

⸻

That night, Sophie returned to the clearing where the altar had burned.

The trees were blackened, the ground cracked, but something still pulsed beneath the earth.

She knelt where the stone once stood.

The whispering returned.

A name spoken through a thousand mouths:

Sophia. Sophia Rivers.

Then came a question.

Will you finish what was begun?

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she opened the old journal once more—the one from the church ruins—and flipped to the ritual.

A second part had revealed itself.

One that didn’t involve sacrifice.

One that involved breaking the pact altogether.

But it would come at a price.

Everything bound to the Hollow would be severed. Everything… including the people. The bloodline.

Sophie stared into the pit where Nathan once hung, where her mother once prayed.

The wind shifted. The ground sighed.

And then the voice again.

The vessel must choose.

⸻

Sophie returned to the house at dawn.

Elliot waited on the porch. Nathan was awake, sitting with a blanket around his shoulders. His eyes were clearer now.

“You found her, didn’t you?” he asked.

Sophie nodded.

“She said nothing. But she showed me… everything.”

Nathan leaned forward. “Can we stop it?”

Sophie looked up, her voice steady.

“Yes.”

“But we’ll have to give up this town.”

Elliot frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s rotten to its roots,” she said. “There’s no saving it. But we can end it. No more sacrifices. No more pacts. No more Hollow.”

She looked at them both.

“But we have to burn it all down.”