The Willowing Willows stood on the edge of a forgotten town, where the silence felt unnatural, like it had been forced into a corner, boxed in by something ancient and unspeakable. The willows towered over the land, their long, twisted branches weeping, as if they carried the sorrow of the world itself. People who walked these woods whispered about what it could offer—the only thing it promised. Love.
Lia had heard of it all her life, the stories, the half-truths. Her friends spoke of the place with such conviction. Go to the Willowing Willows and offer your sacrifice, and your love life would bloom. Love would come to you, no matter how impossible. She thought it was all nonsense, just a desperate myth to cling to, a fantasy for the lonely, for the lost.
But she was desperate now. She had nothing left to lose. Her last relationship had broken her, left her empty. So when the whispers called to her, she decided to see for herself.
The air was thick with the scent of moss and something sharper, something faintly metallic, as Lia stepped into the grove. The trees towered overhead, their knotted branches twisting into shapes that felt unnatural, like reaching hands that never let go. She could feel the ground underfoot soft and moist, like the earth itself was breathing.
There was no one else here, not a single soul. She walked through the silent forest, the sound of her footsteps swallowed by the thick undergrowth. Her breath caught in her throat as she approached the center of the grove. In the middle of the clearing stood a stone circle, weathered and cracked with age, a single iron lantern hanging above it, its light flickering like it was about to die out.
A figure appeared before her, a woman dressed in a tattered gown. Her face was pale, her eyes sunken, like she hadn't slept in years. But there was something about her that drew Lia in. Something both repulsive and magnetic. She couldn't turn away.
The woman's voice came like a soft whisper, but there was a force to it that made Lia's skin crawl. "You've come to seek love," she said. "What are you willing to give up?"
Lia's heart pounded. "Anything. I'll do anything."
The woman smiled, but it was not a smile that put anyone at ease. It twisted her features, contorted them, like a mask held too tight to the face. "Anything," she repeated. "But remember, nothing is free."
A chill ran down Lia's spine. "What do I have to do?"
"Give a part of yourself," the woman said, voice like the rustle of dead leaves. "What is it you cherish most? Your memories? Your heart? Your freedom?"
Lia thought of the way love had scarred her, how it had destroyed her in ways she couldn't explain. But she still wanted it. She was empty without it. "I'll give you my heart," she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
The woman's lips stretched into a grin that seemed far too wide for a human face. "Then your love will come. But be careful. The price is always steeper than you think."
Lia stepped forward into the stone circle, her mind swirling with a mix of fear and hope. Her body felt heavy, like gravity itself was trying to crush her. She felt as though the trees were closing in, suffocating her. She couldn't back out now. The woman handed her a sharp stone, cold and unforgiving.
"Make your choice," she said.
Lia hesitated, looking down at the stone in her palm. Her fingers were trembling, but she raised her hand to her chest, pressing the stone into her flesh. It hurt, but it wasn't the kind of pain she had expected. It was deeper, more hollowing. The stone felt like it was eating away at her. She wanted to scream, to pull away, but the force of the trees kept her in place.
Blood ran down her chest, dripping onto the earth. She staggered, feeling dizzy, as if the world was tilting, breaking apart. The woman didn't move, just watched, her smile widening.
Lia's breath quickened. "Is it done?" Her voice cracked, desperation lacing her words.
"Not yet," the woman whispered. "You haven't given enough."
Lia turned to leave, but the trees around her seemed to shift. Their branches reached out like fingers, pulling her back, trapping her in the circle. Panic rose inside her. She had to leave. She had to get out. The trees were closing in, their gnarled branches curling toward her, whispering, their voices indistinct but urgent, full of hunger.
The woman was still there, watching, her expression unchanged.
"You didn't understand the cost," she said. "Love takes what it wants. It will always take."
Lia looked down at the ground, her chest aching. Her heart—no, it wasn't there anymore. She could feel the hollow in her chest, a deep emptiness where it used to be. Her body moved on its own, as if it were someone else's.
The woman stepped forward, her steps soundless on the mossy earth. She tilted her head, as if admiring a piece of art. "You gave it willingly," she said. "But love doesn't give back. It never does."
The darkness of the trees seemed to shift again. The lantern flickered and went out. The world around Lia seemed to twist, to distort. The very ground beneath her feet seemed to tear away, as if the forest itself was rejecting her. Her eyes stung as she tried to focus, but the edges of her vision blurred, and every breath she took felt like it was getting harder to draw.
"Love," the woman continued, her voice now cold, distant, "is a hungry thing. It feeds on the heart. On hope. On the very essence of who you are. And now, there's nothing left for you to give."
Lia collapsed to her knees, clutching her chest, the deep, aching void inside her pulling her apart. Her mind was spinning. There was nothing left. The woman was still there, watching, but her smile had vanished. In its place was something darker. Something that whispered of eternal hunger.
The trees bent closer, the branches forming a twisted cage around her. The air was thick with something oppressive, something foul. Her breath became labored as the ground around her seemed to sink into blackness.
In the distance, there was a rustle—a sound like feet dragging across dirt. Lia's heart skipped, her pulse racing. Something was coming for her. She couldn't see it. She couldn't even move, couldn't fight back. The darkness closed in on her.
The trees began to chant, their voices indistinct but unified. They were alive with the sound of it, a constant murmur in the back of her mind. Lia's vision blurred once more, and she felt herself falling—no longer in control of her own body. Her heart wasn't just gone; it was gone to them, to the willows, to whatever lived in this cursed place.
She could hear a soft laughter, a cold, cruel laugh that echoed through the grove, rising from the very earth beneath her. She had made the choice. She had given up everything for a promise that wasn't meant to be kept. And now, it was too late.
Her body collapsed into the dark earth, swallowed whole by the trees. The Willowing Willows did not offer love. They devoured it.