Chapter 34: The Hollow Tree
Damien stumbled through the dense undergrowth, his legs heavy and his breath ragged. The cursed forest seemed endless, a labyrinth of twisted trees and oppressive shadows. The encounter with the Phantom River had left him shaken, and his body ached from the relentless pace he had forced upon himself. His throat was dry, his stomach hollow, and every step felt like a battle against his own exhaustion.
Then, through the gloom, he saw it: a massive tree that dwarfed all others around it. Its gnarled trunk was impossibly wide, its surface scarred with deep grooves that gave the illusion of a twisted face. The roots stretched out in all directions, creating natural arches that seemed to invite him closer.
What drew Damien's attention most, however, was the pond nestled at the base of the tree. The water shimmered faintly, reflecting the pale light that filtered through the canopy above. It was clear and inviting, a stark contrast to the Phantom River's ominous black current.
Damien hesitated, his hand instinctively tightening around the iron sword he had taken from the forgotten skeleton. The forest had shown him time and again that nothing here could be trusted. But his body screamed for relief—his parched throat and growling stomach refused to be ignored.
Approaching cautiously, he knelt by the edge of the pond, scanning its surface for any signs of danger. The water was still, undisturbed save for the occasional ripple caused by a falling leaf. His reflection stared back at him, weary and grim. He looked haggard—his face streaked with dirt and sweat, his eyes shadowed from sleepless nights.
Desperation won out over caution. Damien cupped his hands and dipped them into the cool water, bringing it to his lips. The liquid was refreshing, its taste pure and sweet. He drank deeply, each gulp revitalizing him in a way that felt almost magical.
Once his thirst was sated, Damien sat back on his heels and pulled a handful of berries from the pouch at his side. He had gathered them in his frantic flight from the Phantom River, unsure if they were edible but too desperate to care. Now, he inspected them more closely. They were small and dark red, their skin smooth and unblemished. He sniffed them cautiously before popping one into his mouth.
The berry's flavor was sharp and tangy, with a faint sweetness that lingered on his tongue. Encouraged, he ate a few more, the fruit dulling the gnawing hunger that had plagued him for hours.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Damien allowed himself to relax. He leaned against one of the tree's massive roots, his muscles loosening as he stared out over the pond. The water's surface glistened faintly, reflecting the twisted branches above.
His gaze wandered to the tree itself. Its trunk was hollowed in places, with dark openings that yawned like the mouths of caves. One of the larger hollows drew his attention. It was wide enough for a man to step inside, and shadows danced within, hinting at unseen depths.
Damien's instincts prickled, warning him not to investigate further. The tree had an ancient, almost sentient air about it, as though it were watching him with unseen eyes. But for now, it did not seem hostile.
He closed his eyes, letting the moment of peace wash over him. His exhaustion finally caught up to him, and his breathing slowed. Despite the dangers of the forest, Damien felt a sliver of relief—here, by the pond and the hollow tree, he had found a temporary refuge.
But as the stillness settled around him, a faint sound reached his ears—a low creaking, like the groan of old wood shifting in the wind. His eyes snapped open, his body tensing. The forest, it seemed, was never truly silent.
The massive tree loomed over Damien, its hollowed trunk an inviting shelter in the heart of the cursed forest. Weariness clung to him like a second skin, and the prospect of finding a safe place, even temporarily, was too tempting to resist. The strange creaks and groans from the forest had grown distant, and the stillness around the tree made it seem like a haven.
His gaze lingered on the large hollow in the trunk—a dark opening that beckoned with the promise of protection from the forest's unseen terrors. The night would soon fall, and he had no desire to face what might emerge from the shadows without some form of cover.
Clutching the iron sword he had taken from the forgotten skeleton by the Phantom River, Damien approached the tree's hollow cautiously. The entrance yawned before him, large enough to allow him inside, and the interior was shrouded in shadow. He leaned forward, peering into the dark, his instincts sharp and alert. The air around the tree smelled damp and earthy, with a faint metallic tang that tickled his nose.
"Just for the night," Damien muttered under his breath, trying to convince himself. "I'll rest, and I'll be gone by dawn."
With one last glance around to ensure he wasn't being followed, Damien stepped inside.
The hollow was larger than it appeared from the outside, its interior walls smooth and curved as though the tree had been carved out deliberately. The space was cool and damp, the air heavy with the scent of moss and decay. Thin rays of light filtered in through cracks in the bark, illuminating the faintly pulsing grooves that ran along the walls.
Damien settled near the back of the hollow, resting his sword against the wall within arm's reach. He leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment, letting the silence of the space envelop him. For the first time in what felt like hours, he allowed himself to breathe.
But the relief was short-lived.
A faint vibration beneath him made his eyes snap open. He sat up, his senses on high alert, and placed a hand on the ground. The vibration grew stronger, a subtle hum that seemed to come from the tree itself. The grooves in the walls began to glow faintly, a sickly green light that pulsed in rhythm with the vibrations.
Damien's pulse quickened. He grabbed his sword, his fingers tightening around the hilt. The hollow suddenly felt smaller, the air growing heavier. Something wasn't right.
Then the walls began to move.
At first, it was subtle—small shifts in the bark, like the tree was breathing. But then, with a groan that reverberated through the hollow, the walls started to close in. The grooves expanded and contracted like the muscles of a living creature, and the space around Damien began to shrink.
He scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest. The once-inviting hollow had transformed into a trap, its walls pressing inward with deliberate intent. The grooves along the bark rippled, and Damien realized with a surge of horror that they resembled veins—pulsing with a dark, viscous fluid that seemed to flow toward him.
The tree was alive. And it was hungry.
Damien swung his sword at the nearest wall, the blade biting into the bark with a satisfying crunch. But instead of retreating, the tree responded with a low, guttural groan, as though it were in pain. A thick, sap-like substance oozed from the wound, and the walls shuddered violently.
The space continued to close in, forcing Damien to duck as the ceiling lowered. The glowing veins pulsed faster, their sickly green light intensifying. It wasn't just trying to crush him—it was trying to consume him.
Desperation fueled his movements as Damien slashed at the walls again, carving deep gouges into the bark. But the tree seemed to heal almost instantly, the grooves knitting themselves back together with unnatural speed. The space grew tighter, the walls pressing against his shoulders, and Damien felt the air grow thin.
Think, Damien. Think!
His eyes darted around the hollow, searching for an escape. The opening he had entered through was now a narrow slit, barely wide enough for him to squeeze through. He lunged toward it, only for a root to burst from the ground and coil around his ankle.
The root was cold and slimy, its texture like rotting flesh. It tightened its grip, pulling him back toward the center of the hollow. Damien gritted his teeth and swung his sword downward, severing the root with a single strike. The severed piece writhed on the ground like a dying snake, and Damien wasted no time.
He lunged for the opening, his shoulders scraping against the closing walls as he forced himself through. The tree groaned in protest, its movements growing frantic as if trying to drag him back inside.
Damien felt the bark scrape against his back as he shoved himself through the narrowing gap. His foot caught on an exposed root, and he tumbled forward, landing hard on the forest floor outside.
He scrambled to his feet, spinning around to face the tree. The hollow's opening had disappeared entirely, the bark sealing itself as though it had never been there. The entire tree seemed to shudder, its massive trunk rippling with rage.
Damien took several steps back, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. The iron sword felt heavy in his hand, its blade streaked with the dark sap of the tree.
The pond beside the tree began to churn, its once-calm surface disturbed by violent ripples. The sickly green glow from the tree's veins extended into the water, spreading like a web. Damien watched in horrified fascination as the water darkened, its surface bubbling as though something beneath was trying to rise.
But he didn't stay to find out.
Damien turned and ran, the sound of the tree's groans fading into the distance as he disappeared into the forest. His mind raced, his thoughts a jumbled mess of fear and disbelief.
The forest was alive in ways he had never imagined, its dangers far more insidious than he had anticipated. It wasn't just the wolves, the Phantom River, or the cursed vines—it was the very land itself.
As he ran, Damien tightened his grip on the iron sword, its weight grounding him. The cursed forest had tried to devour him, but he had survived atleast survived for now.