Chapter Thirty #2
Still… everything looks the same now—more than before—eerily, unsettlingly the same.
Maybe it’s because the canopy above is cracked wider and with more light, the forest looks infinite.
Endless columns of trunks stretching out so far that even the shadows seem tired of trying to twist into new shapes.
Something about that openness is worse than the dark; in the dark, you expect monsters.
In the light, you expect safety—and the Hollow is a master at weaponising expectations.
Ryder walks close beside me but says nothing. River leads, determined.
And I keep catching myself glancing back, half-expecting to see Ziek trailing behind us with some last-second warning.
But the path stays empty.
We reach a fork in the trail so suddenly that River almost walks straight into it.
“That’s… funny,” he mutters, squinting down both directions. “Ziek never mentioned anything about this.”
A cold weight drops into my stomach.
Both paths stretch out into the trees, winding in opposite directions. The left looks almost normal—if anything in the Hollow can be called normal. But the right…
The right is wrong.
The trees there are thicker, older, their bark gnarled like clenched fists. Their branches hang low and long, stretching toward the path like arms reaching for us. Even the light seems to hesitate before stepping between them.
“I don’t like this,” I whisper, taking a half-step back.
Before any of us can suggest turning around, the forest reacts—violently.
The trees shift.
With a groan of straining wood, their trunks twist and lean toward each other. Branches hook and interlock like bony fingers lacing together. The ground beneath our feet trembles, soil rippling as if something is pushing up from underneath, rearranging the path entirely.
“Guys—!” I shout, spinning around.
Ryder was right beside me a second ago.
Now he’s gone.
Vines erupt from the ground, twisting and writhing until River and I are encased in a wall that stretches endlessly in every direction.
River is still in sight—on my side—but Ryder—
“RYDER!” My scream tears from my throat, raw and panicked. I rush forward, but the shifting roots surge up, blocking the path like a rising barricade.
River grabs my arm, steadying me. “Asha—Asha, he’s not here. He’s on the other side!”
A choked breath escapes me, my pulse hammering in my palms.
I can still hear the forest moving—creaking, groaning, sealing Ryder off behind a wall of living wood.
A trap.
A test.
Another trial.
The Hollow isn’t done with us.
“River…” I whisper, my voice trembling, “Where the hell did he go?”
“I can feel him… he’s okay.” River’s voice is steady, but the worry etched into his face ruins the illusion. His jaw tightens, his fingers twitch, and I can tell—he’s barely holding himself together.
So much for the tattoos protecting us from the Hollow’s deception.
For all their glow and promise, they’re nothing against this. Nothing against a forest determined to pry us open and take what it wants.
“Come on,” River mutters, stepping toward the living barricade. “Let’s try and get through.”
He digs his fingers into the woven mass of vines and twisted branches, clawing at them as if he can tear the Hollow apart with his bare hands. Bark snaps under his grip, sharp pieces falling at his feet.
I join him, grabbing at the vines, yanking with all my strength—but the wall doesn’t even shudder. It’s like trying to rip apart stone.
“Why won’t it move—” I hiss, pulling harder, my palms burning. “He was just here. He was right here—”
River slams his shoulder into the wood.
Useless.
The forest has decided. It built this wall with purpose, not panic.
“Asha,” River says, breathless, turning toward me. His hands are scraped and trembling. “Whatever this is, whatever it’s doing… it wants Ryder alone.”
The words sink like stones into my stomach. I press a hand to the barrier, feeling only the faint hum of fear in the wood—no heartbeat, no sign of him.
“But he’s okay,” River repeats, softer this time. “I can still feel him. He’s alive.”
Alive.
But alone in the Hollow.
And the Hollow never does anything without intent.
After trying every root, vine, branch, and crack we could wedge our fingers into, every attempt ended the same—splintered bark, scraped palms, and that same immovable wall staring back at us like a sealed tomb. The Hollow didn’t just block the path; it closed its jaws.
Eventually, our strength gives out before the forest does, and River and I collapse onto the mossy ground, breathless and defeated. There’s nothing left to do—no trick, no rune, no amount of brute force that will pry this place open.
We have no choice but to wait, just as they waited for me outside of the cottage.
Helpless.
Hollow, in our own way.
River sits with his elbows on his knees and head bowed, his lungs dragging in long, uneven breaths.
My fingers curl into the earth as I glance at the impenetrable barrier again. Somewhere behind it, Ryder is facing Gods-know-what alone. The thought coils tight in my chest, squeezing until it hurts to breathe.
If it is a trial that he is facing, I have no doubts that he will pass it and make it back to me… he has to.
A horrible cocktail of fear, guilt, and something I can’t even name swells inside me until it lodges in my throat.
“He’ll be okay,” I whisper, though the words come out cracked. “If it’s a challenge… Ryder will conquer it. He always does.”
River doesn’t argue, doesn’t look at me—nods, jaw clenched. The silence between us settles heavy, thrumming with the same truth we’re both too afraid to speak.
I pull my knees to my chest, staring at the unmoving wall of trees.
He has to come back to me.
He has to.