The village of Eldhollow sat quietly beneath the shadow of the northern woods. From afar, it looked peaceful — smoke rising from chimneys, children running barefoot across cobblestone paths, and old men arguing about harvests beneath the ancient oak.
But at the farthest edge of the village, where the forest began to thicken and the morning mist never truly lifted, there stood a small, crooked house that everyone avoided.
That was where Daniel Aldyn lived.
To him, it wasn't strange at all — it was home. The smell of herbs and smoke, the shelves stacked with bottles filled with glowing liquids, the sound of an old broom scratching against the floor. That was just "Aunty Maren's" doing.
Everyone called her the witch of the woods, though Daniel never really believed it. She was just… different. Old, yes — with silver hair that shimmered oddly under the light — but she cared for him more than anyone else had.
She'd taken him in when he was barely five, after the fire that had destroyed half of Eldhollow. Daniel had no memory of his parents, only vague dreams of warmth, and a voice calling his name through the smoke.
Every morning, she made him tea that smelled like wildflowers and gave him strange advice like,
> "Never look directly at the moon on the thirteenth night."
"If you hear whispers in the forest, don't answer back."
"And most of all, Daniel, never open the old cellar door."
He never did.
---
Daniel slung his worn satchel over his shoulder, brushed his messy brown hair out of his eyes, and sighed. Another day of school.
The sun was barely up, but "Aunty" was already mixing something in her cauldron.
"Heading out so early, little one?" she asked, without turning from her work.
"I have extra lessons," Daniel muttered, tying his boots. "Xavier said he'd meet me by the stream."
At the mention of his best friend's name, Maren's hand froze briefly over the pot. The faint glow beneath it flickered.
"Ah, Xavier," she said softly, almost to herself. "Such a curious boy. You two are inseparable, aren't you?"
Daniel grinned. "He's like a brother to me."
"Mm." Maren turned to look at him, her eyes sharp and distant, as if seeing something far away. "Then stay close to him. And Daniel…"
Her voice softened.
> "If anything strange happens today, promise me you'll come straight home."
He blinked. "Strange? Like what?"
"Just promise."
"I promise."
---
The walk to school took nearly half an hour. Mist clung to the ground, curling around his boots. Birds sang, and the wind carried the smell of wet earth and pine. For some reason, it always felt like the forest was watching him — not in a bad way, just… aware.
At the old wooden bridge, a figure was waiting — tall, broad-shouldered, with a playful grin that could melt the frost off anyone's mood.
"About time!" Xavier called, tossing a pebble into the stream. "I thought you'd overslept again."
"I didn't." Daniel smirked. "Aunty kept talking about strange things. Again."
"She's probably warning you not to eat the village bread," Xavier teased. "You know how she is."
Daniel laughed. "You're just jealous she doesn't make you tea every morning."
"Maybe. But her tea smells like burnt plants."
"That's because it's medicine!"
Xavier chuckled and threw his arm over Daniel's shoulder as they crossed the bridge together. He was older by a year, always calm, always confident. Sometimes Daniel wondered how he could make everyone around him feel safe without even trying.
They talked about school, the upcoming festival, and the rumors spreading through the village — how livestock were going missing near the forest, how people heard howls at night, how the river had started glowing faintly blue some evenings.
Daniel didn't pay much attention. The village always had ghost stories.
---
Classes were long and boring. By the time the final bell rang, the sun had already dipped behind the hills. Daniel and Xavier walked home together, laughing about the day's lessons and the teacher who kept mispronouncing Xavier's name.
Halfway down the road, Xavier stopped suddenly.
"Did you hear that?" he whispered.
Daniel frowned. "Hear what?"
The woods were silent. No birds, no wind. Just… silence.
Then something moved — a rustle deep within the trees. Daniel felt his chest tighten. For a heartbeat, he thought he saw a shape in the mist — tall, hunched, with eyes that glowed faintly red.
"What was that?" Daniel asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"Probably just a deer," Xavier said quickly. But Daniel noticed the way his friend's hand clenched, his eyes scanning the shadows like a hunter.
"Let's go," Xavier added, forcing a smile. "It's getting late."
---
By the time Daniel reached home, the lamps were lit. The door creaked open before he even touched it. Maren stood there, pale and anxious, her gaze darting toward the woods behind him.
"You saw something," she said flatly.
Daniel froze. "How—?"
"Your aura is trembling."
"My what?"
She sighed, shaking her head. "Never mind. Just go inside. The forest is restless tonight."
Daniel wanted to ask what that meant, but her tone made him stop. He obeyed silently, climbing into bed after dinner. But even as he closed his eyes, he couldn't stop thinking about those glowing red eyes in the mist.
---
That night, he dreamed.
He was standing in a vast, black field under a sky torn by storms. A massive gate loomed before him — towering, ancient, covered in runes that pulsed faintly with violet light. Chains as thick as trees wrapped around it, stretching endlessly into the dark.
A whisper echoed through the air:
> "The seal weakens…"
Daniel's hands trembled.
> "Who's there?"
Silence. Then, slowly, a faint light glowed at his feet. He looked down and saw symbols forming beneath him — the same runes carved into the gate.
> "The Keeper must awaken…"
A blinding flash tore through the darkness.
---
Daniel jolted upright, gasping. Sweat drenched his sheets, and his heart hammered wildly. The room was silent — except for the faint hum of the wind outside. But something felt… wrong.
The window was open. He was sure he'd closed it.
And on his desk lay something that hadn't been there before — a small, black feather, glinting faintly under the moonlight.
He reached for it, and for a split second, the air around him grew colder — heavy, as though something unseen had entered the room.
Then, a whisper.
> "Soon."
Daniel spun around. Nothing.
He stared at the feather for a long time, unease curling in his stomach. Finally, he slipped it into his drawer and lay back down, pretending he hadn't heard the voice.
But deep in the forest, beyond the village, something stirred — a faint crackle, like stone breaking. The ground trembled softly.
And beneath the earth, something ancient began to wake.