Town of Weeping Hollow
Night of November 4, 2020
Norse Woods
Night approached faster than it should, and tall, skinny tree trunks creaked in the wind under a yawning gray sky. Julian Blackwell neared the middle of the forest, two silver eyes casting upward and watching the sun sink with an impossible swiftness. The storm from earlier had rolled away, leaving in its wake a moonlight drizzle.
Julian stood beneath the dimming sky, welcoming the rain.
The teeth-chattering drops slid down his cheeks. Each one chilling him was a reminder of his past and a pardon for his sins. What he’d done and couldn’t undo, but forgiveness all the same.
On this day, he’d accomplished the unimaginable.
He’d broken the Curse of the Hollow Heathens.
And at his side, Fallon took his hand.
For the first time, she had spent her day admiring the face of the Heathen she’d fallen for. The color of midnight in his hair, sterling silver eyes, strong cheekbones, straight-fitting nose, the crease between his brows. But the smiles were brief with the impending night.
“Something’s happening,” she whispered, staring at the same foreboding sky. Julian neededn’t reply, but his crease deepened, causing Fallon’s worry to intensify.
It had only been that morning that they broke the curse that had haunted them for centuries. It seemed they didn’t have a chance to take pleasure in the good news before something else, something sinister, was happening all around them.
Then a scream bounced from the branches of the trees, catching their attention.
Julian regarded Fallon with a stricken panic, then tugged on her hand before taking off through the woods.
November’s cold pierced their faces as the night’s wind rushed past them.
At the edge of the woods, Julian and Fallon came to an abrupt halt.
Both were face to face with a terrified Mrs. Edwin, who was lying on the ground. Beck Parish stood only feet away, a fear-stricken figure in the background. Mrs. Edwin’s eyes were round and wide as if struck by a current of electricity, and a sheet of color had fallen from her face. Panic grabbed her by her arms and legs. She couldn’t get up, she couldn’t run. She couldn’t move at all. Five shadowy figures surrounded her and kept her in their circle. Their limbs were like somber liquid smoke. Tall, nimble, and swaying with the sharp, icy breeze.
Mrs. Edwin’s cries echoed, breaking Julian from a paralyzed stance.
He pulled Fallon behind him, and with fear soaking their vision, they watched the strange figures close in on the elderly woman.
“Julian, do something!” Beck shouted from the other side with unstable emotions beaming in his voice. His watery eyes darted back and forth between Julian and the threat surrounding his keeper.
Julian caught the desperation folding inside Beck and was unable to avoid it from consuming him, too. If he didn’t do something fast, Fallon or Beck could be next, and this thought caused a bolt of the same desperation to shoot through him.
With a fist full of vigor, Julian released a mind-bending scream, dropped to one knee, and punched the forest floor. The ground trembled beneath them while the ear-splitting scream was ever-perpetuating.
Beck hunched forward with his hands pressed to his ears, his eyes tightly shut.
Julian’s scream felt like clawing at his brain.
Like jagged teeth sawing at his bones.
Then, when all fell silent, the five shadows evaporated into the night like mist, leaving nothing behind but ink-smeared memories.
Inside a disturbed circle—with leaves blown out of the way and all that remained was dirt—Mrs. Edwin lay with a blanched white face, dead.
Beck sprinted to her, sliding across the ground to where she lay, collecting her body in his arms.
Julian stumbled backward. All strength had been exhumed from his being.
One by one, others from Norse Woods Coven appeared, including Mr. Edwin and Josephine, their daughter.
In a blubbering mess, Mr. Edwin cried, shaking his head. “No!”
Fallon stood frozen with both hands cupping her mouth. Tears halted in her eyes, too shocked to fall.
Phoenix Wildes arrived, collapsing before a disoriented Julian, who remained weakened on his knees. He grabbed Julian’s jaw to gauge the expression in his eyes, but a somber face stared back at him.
Julian’s expression crippled Phoenix. He was not used to seeing Julian’s true face. This was still new for him—for all four of them.
“What happened?” Phoenix asked, despair carving into his syllables.
Julian remained silent, still processing what he’d seen.
“Julian!” he shouted, louder this time with terror in his eyes.
“I don’t know,” Julian croaked, his eyes bouncing around the forest for answers. He fell back on his palm, the shadowy figures burning a hole into his memory. “I tried. I tried, but I was too late,” he said under the seams of his fear, then lifted his horror-filled eyes to Phoenix, a revelation forming in his mind. “It seems I’ve broken the curse trapped inside us and, in the process, let all our monsters out.”
Members of Norse Woods gathered, including Agatha Blackwell, with a thick braid tumbling down her waist. She laid a hand on Julian’s shoulder.
“Whatever it was will be back,” she said to her son, trying to keep all emotion from appearing on her face. “I have a strong feeling this is only the beginning.”
Agatha turned to the other Heathen, at first not recognizing Phoenix without his mask. But when Phoenix’s golden eyes blazed with familiar agony, her heart melted.
Her gaze traced his angles, narrow chin, the two freckles under his eyes, and the crease between his brows. She saw him as the boy she had always treated as a son since Phoenix’s mother passed.
Phoenix turned away from her. “We need to find Zephyr. No one has seen him since the curse broke.” His fiery gaze slid across the grounds of Norse Woods. People were gathering, the ensuing panic spreading like a ripple effect.
The Heathens knew. My god, they knew.
They felt it with every fiber of their being.
A ghastly wickedness was creeping into their midst, and the Heathens had never felt so entirely human until that moment. It hadn’t taken long for them to realize that these evil shadows were the very beings that had lived inside them.
The darkest monster of all had unleashed into their home of Weeping Hollow, and the night was its awakening.
Agatha watched her coven fall apart under tall trees in the heart of Norse Woods, branches wilting as if their limbs were weeping, too.
“Snap out of it, Julian,” Agatha demanded in a cutting, yet low whisper. There was a tremor in her voice, too. One she couldn’t mask. “The both of you. You are Norse Woods Heathens. Get up and stand on your feet.”
Julian’s eyes lifted to Phoenix.
Together, they planted their boots on the ground and stood tall.
Julian’s spine straightened, and he settled his silvery eyes on his mother with both fists clenched and veins popping in his forearms.
Agatha cleared her throat. “Julian couldn’t stop it.” She looked at Beck in the distance, who was surrounded by the Edwin family and clutching his dead keeper to his chest. “If those things come back, it will take all four Heathens to save this town.”
“Five,” Julian corrected through a clenched jaw, then looked at his mother with guilt. The secret of the lost Heathen that he’d been keeping from them was buried deep and only intended to surface if the curse broke. He supposed now was a better time than any. “You mean, it’s going to take all five of us.”