Chapter [Next]
The Rite of Severance
Thomas nodded, and the group huddled around the table in the cabin, their eyes trained on the book of symbols now open before them. It was an uneasy stillness, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of the wind outside, and the distant howls that seemed to echo from the depths of the forest. The weight of what had happened, and the uncertainty of what still loomed, sat heavily on them.
Hannah's pulse quickened, the air thick with tension. She glanced at Grace, who leaned over the pages, her brow furrowed in concentration. The symbols—ancient, cryptic—seemed to pulse with an energy of their own. Grace's fingers traced the markings, muttering quietly to herself, each phrase she whispered adding a layer of mystery to the already enigmatic text. Beside her, Thomas remained vigilant, his posture tense, the shotgun resting loosely in his hands. His eyes darted toward the flickering shadows outside the cabin windows, ever watchful, ever alert.
Every creak of the old wood beneath them seemed amplified in the silence.
"These runes…" Grace's voice broke the silence, barely above a whisper. "They're not just barriers. They're markers… gates, of sorts. Some of these symbols seem to strengthen the connection to their realm. But others," she paused, her fingers tracing over a set of twisted symbols, "these could sever it entirely."
Hannah leaned forward, her mind racing to comprehend the enormity of what Grace was suggesting. "Sever it? You mean we could close the connection? Stop them from coming through?"
Grace's eyes met hers, her gaze filled with a grim resolve. "Yes. But it's not that simple. To sever the connection, we'll need something—or someone—with a strong link to their realm."
Thomas stiffened, his face darkening as he slowly came to terms with the implications. "That's what Rachel sacrificed herself for," he said, his voice low and tinged with regret. "But even that might not be enough to hold them off forever."
Hannah's heart sank, the reality of their situation settling on her like a stone. "So… if we don't finish what she started, they'll just keep coming. They'll find me again."
Grace nodded solemnly, her expression softening with sympathy. "Exactly. Rachel's sacrifice was powerful, but it's not the end. There's still an open path between our world and theirs. And if we don't close it for good, they'll never stop hunting you."
The weight of her words hit Hannah like a physical blow. Her thoughts spun as she tried to process the gravity of the situation. "So… what's the next step?" she managed to ask, her voice trembling slightly.
Grace turned the page, revealing a new symbol—complex and intricate—surrounded by ancient, flowing script. "This," she said, her finger hovering over the symbol. "This is what we need to perform the severance ritual. But it's risky… and we'll need to leave the cabin to gather the materials."
Hannah's stomach dropped at the thought of venturing outside. The creatures, the very ones her mother had kept at bay, were still out there, lurking in the shadows. The safety of the cabin, tenuous as it was, felt like their only refuge.
"You want us to leave?" Thomas's voice was sharp, filled with concern. "With them out there?"
Grace's voice was firm, unwavering. "It's the only way. We need a specific herb—nightshade—mixed with iron dust. And we need a fire large enough to burn the marking into the ground. Once it's done, the ritual should lock them out of our world for good."
Hannah felt a cold wave of dread wash over her. Going outside meant exposing themselves to the dangers lurking in the darkness. Yet, the alternative—remaining trapped in the cabin—felt equally unbearable. She turned to Thomas, searching his face for any sign of a plan, a solution. "What do we do?"
Thomas's expression was hard, his jaw tight with determination. "We go. Quietly, quickly. We gather what we need, get back here, and finish the ritual."
Grace passed Hannah a small knife, its blade etched with faint symbols that seemed to shimmer in the dim light. "Keep this close," she instructed, her tone serious. "It won't stop them, but it might slow them down if they get too close."
With their makeshift weapons ready, and the plan set in motion, they quietly exited the cabin. The air outside was cool, the kind of crisp chill that seemed to seep into your bones. The forest loomed around them, dark and dense, a silent witness to their every move. The silence was unnerving, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant hoot of an owl. Each step was calculated, each breath shallow and filled with uncertainty.
As they ventured deeper into the forest, the shadows around them seemed to shift and writhe, as if the very trees themselves were alive, watching them with unseen eyes. Hannah's grip tightened around the knife, her senses heightened, every nerve on edge. She glanced up at the sky, where the stars were obscured by clouds, casting an eerie glow over the forest floor.
Suddenly, Thomas froze, holding up a hand to stop them. The tension was palpable.
"What is it?" Grace whispered, her eyes scanning the darkness, trying to discern what had caught Thomas's attention.
He pointed toward the shadows, his voice barely audible. "We're not alone."
From the darkened trees ahead, shapes began to emerge—human-like but twisted, their eyes hollow and glowing faintly, their forms skeletal and distorted. Hannah's heart pounded in her chest, the creatures she had feared now a terrifying reality. She swallowed hard, fighting to steady her breath. The nightmares had come to life.
"We keep moving," Thomas said, his voice low but firm. "Don't show fear. Just keep going."
The creatures mirrored their movements, closing in with eerie precision. Their faces stretched in silent, distorted screams, each step they took amplifying the sense of dread suffocating the trio.
Grace's voice was barely a whisper. "They know what we're doing. They're not going to let us finish the ritual."
Hannah's hand trembled around the knife. The creatures were closing in, and escape seemed less and less likely. Fear gripped her, but just as she thought she might break under the pressure, a faint hum cut through the air. It was almost inaudible at first, but it grew louder, vibrating against her chest.
She reached into her pocket, her heart skipping a beat as she pulled out her phone. The hum grew louder, vibrating in her hand as the screen flashed to life.
It was a single name.
Dad