The Hollow Ball

Chapter 2

I once read a book about benevolent gods. The ones who loved their people and showered them with gifts and mercy, beauty and truth and love. There was no fear. There was no devastation without lessons. I wondered what that felt like. I wondered what I'd done to be born in a wild land where the gods played games and lived for spite.

For all Their blessings Hunting Hollow received, we were not safe.

We were not Their favorite children, and we would pay dearly for it.

The sound of screaming filled my ears. It hit me like an icy wave, jolting me awake. The ground was a frozen sheet of ice beneath me, the chill seeping agonizingly slow into my skin through the tattered remains of my dress. Gone were the stream and sodden landscape, the storm-filled morning, and the haggard branches of Hannover Forest. Instead, I stared into a cloudless night sky with infinite stars and infinite questions.

How did I get here? Where was the road? Where was Daphne?

"Please!" someone screamed.

I bolted upright. What was that?

They sounded close. Too close. My temples throbbed when moments clustered into a disjointed memory that floated to the surface of my mind: the early morning light as I left Castellano Manor, desperate to get help from the nearest town; Daphne and the small carriage; the headless corpse; a sinister sensation on the back of my neck; laughter; mind-numbing fear and—

Nothing. As though thick storm clouds blocked my memory, I failed to recall more than a single, crippling thought: you're next.

Another scream pierced the night and my gaze whipped around for any semblance of an escape. Behind me, a wall of onyx mountainside twisted up as far as the eye could see, its glossy stone reflecting movement behind me. When I turned, there was nothing.

"I'll do anything! Please!" another voice begged.

My breath caught in my throat. Oh gods. There were two people out there.

Out of the corner of my eye, a dark figure slid between the dense treeline, and acrid panic lurched through me at the familiarity of its willowy stature and the icy doom that rolled from it in waves. There was no guess as to what stalked me in the darkness.

A Shadow.

God-like. Ancient. Capable of conjuring both dreams and nightmares.. A creature the people of Hunting Hollow worshiped for five hundred years.

They found you, a sinister voice whispered in the back of my mind. They will bleed you dry and devour your soul.

"Mercy! I beg you!" The first voice cried.

Through my terror, I recognized the voice as Mr. Roberts, a guardsman at the Hallowed Gates who protected the town from the horrors of the forest, a man with whom my father grew up and whom I knew well. What could be happening to make such a seasoned man cry so fiercely?

The thought turned my stomach as I staggered to my feet, my mind racing faster than ever before. There were no rocks to throw or tree branches to wield like swords. I could do nothing but watch the creature stalk through the trees, and listen to Mr. Roberts plead for mercy, as a cold realization swept through me: those screams would be mine if I did not act quickly.

But what to do? What to do?

I realized I didn't hear the second voice anymore. Tears filled my eyes.

The same hissing I heard before buzzed in my ears. Shadows were masters of this land. The people of Hunting Hollow were their servants. Dropping to my knees, I clasped my hands in front of me, delusional to believe in their benevolence, but desperate to try anything to stay alive.