Thornwick Hollow, 2023
The fog greeted Noa like an old friend.
It clung to the trees, slithered down the hills, and coiled around the rusted street signs as her bus wound its way into Thornwick Hollow. Through the grimy window, she could barely make out the crumbling edges of her hometown—boarded-up storefronts, shuttered houses, and streetlamps that flickered with a tired sort of warning.
Home.
She stepped off the bus with a single duffel bag and a heart weighed down by the kind of silence you can't shake. Thornwick Hollow hadn't changed, not really. It still smelled like damp wood and old secrets. But something in the air felt… wrong. Heavier than she remembered.
Hungrier.
Her boots crunched on gravel as she walked toward the old train depot where she knew the others would be waiting. She hadn't seen them since the last summer before everything splintered. Before she left without a goodbye.
The depot loomed, half-swallowed by ivy. And there they were.
Mavis was pacing, a streak of crimson in her black hair catching the dull light. She turned sharply when she saw Noa and gave a short, dramatic whistle. "Well. Look what the fog dragged in."
Riven stood with arms crossed, leaning against a pillar. Her dark eyes scanned Noa like she was a riddle to be solved. "You're late."
Astra beamed, dreamlike as ever, her soft curls barely moving in the wind. "We thought maybe the Hollow kept you."
Celeste just smiled, small and cautious. Her hands were wrapped around a thermos, her knuckles pale.
Noa let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
"Hey," she said.
It was enough.
They stood in a circle, the same as they had always been, except time had stretched between them. Grown things. Twisted them a little. And yet, something sparked in the silence between their words.
The fog pressed closer.
The town was strange in a way they couldn't name. People watched them as they walked by—too still, too quiet. Windows were shuttered in broad daylight. A child drew a crooked symbol in the dust on a parked car, then vanished into a nearby alley without a sound.
"Creepy," Mavis muttered. "Did this place always feel like a horror movie set?"
Astra laughed softly. "Maybe we just didn't notice before."
They wandered aimlessly, letting the strangeness guide them. That was when Celeste paused outside a tall, half-collapsed building on the edge of town.
St. Lillian's Church.
Its crooked bell tower clawed at the sky. Vines had overgrown the stone, and shattered stained glass littered the ground like forgotten prayers.
"Dare you to go inside," Mavis said with a wicked smile.
"Seriously?" Riven raised an eyebrow.
Noa stepped forward before she could think.
"Let's all go."
The words surprised even her. But something in her chest felt hollow—and the church, somehow, felt like the answer.
They looked at each other, quiet for a moment.
Then they stepped through the rotting wooden doors, five shadows swallowed by dust and silence.
And the fog followed them in.