Shadows Over the Circle
The Circle no longer felt like a refuge.
Its walls bore scars from battles unseen, its wards flickered with uncertain light, and the Dreamers who remained carried heavy shadows in their eyes.
Isabela paced near the shattered altar, her hands clenched tight.
"We can't hold much longer," she said. "Echo's not the only one changed. Something else stirs—inside us all."
Nox stood guard by the entrance, her blade ready, but her stance weary. "The Hollow doesn't just come from outside. It grows from within. From doubt, fear, and fractured dreams."
Tariq's gaze was fixed on the horizon, where the forest seemed to darken unnaturally. "I feel it too. Something worse than before. The Hollow's next vessel isn't far."
---
Deep within the Circle, a low hum began.
Not from the wards.
Not from any spell.
But from the dreams themselves.
Echo's cot remained empty—his absence a constant ache.
Suddenly, a cry shattered the tense silence.
A Dreamer screamed, clutching her head as shadows spilled from her eyes like ink.
She collapsed, convulsing, her voice lost beneath guttural growls.
---
Isabela rushed forward.
"This isn't possession," she gasped.
"It's the Hollow seeding itself—slow, silent, like a rootworm burrowing into flesh and mind."
Nox knelt beside the fallen Dreamer, her fingers glowing with warding light. "We need to find the source. Before it spreads."
Tariq's voice was grim. "And we don't have much time."
---
Outside, the wind shifted.
The trees whispered warnings.
And beneath the soil, something ancient and hungry pulsed, waiting for the moment to bloom once more.