The hollow ones

The darkness swallowed Ellie whole.

One moment, she was in the basement, the sigil complete, Malcolm and Sam shouting her name. The next, she was somewhere else—a vast, empty void stretching endlessly in all directions.

She turned, breath shallow, the cold pressing against her skin like unseen hands.

Then, they appeared.

Dozens—no, hundreds—of them, standing in the nothingness. Featureless figures, hollowed-out shells of something that once was. Their heads tilted in eerie unison, bodies shifting like shadows.

The air rippled with whispers.

"You were chosen."

"You called us."

"You are ours."

Ellie's pulse thundered in her ears.

She stepped back—or tried to. But the void held her. Her feet sank into nothingness, like she was being pulled downward, absorbed into the dark.

Panic spiked through her.

"No."

She clenched her fists, heart pounding. This wasn't real. This wasn't real.

She wasn't going to disappear.

A sharp pain lanced through her palm. She gasped, looking down.

The mark had changed.

No longer the sigil from the farmhouse—it had spread, curling up her arm like roots burrowing into her skin. The Hollow Ones weren't just marking her.

They were claiming her.

Ellie gritted her teeth. "I am not yours."

She ripped her hand back, forcing herself to move—to fight against whatever was pulling her in. The Hollow Ones shifted, their whispering rising, a chorus of hissing, desperate voices.

"Let go."

"Join us."

"Become."

Then—a voice cut through the void.

"ELLIE!"

Sam.

The darkness shuddered, the void cracking.

Ellie gasped as reality lurched, the farmhouse basement flickering back into existence—Malcolm gripping her wrist, Sam shaking her, his eyes wild with fear.

She slammed back into her body, the basement's damp air rushing into her lungs. The shadows in the room shrank back, retreating.

The ritual had worked.

She was back.

But the mark—

It was still there.

Fainter, but still burned into her skin.

Sam exhaled, hands on his knees. "Jesus, Ellie… you were gone."

Ellie swallowed hard. "I—" Her voice caught. She glanced at Malcolm.

His face was grim. "You broke the connection."

Ellie looked down at the mark, the black veins still curling faintly beneath her skin.

"But not the tether," Malcolm finished.

Ellie's stomach twisted.

The Hollow Ones weren't done with her.

They were still watching.

Still waiting.

And now…

They were closer than ever.

The Lingering Mark

Ellie sat in the backseat of the car, staring at her hand. The mark hadn't faded completely. Even in the dim light from the dashboard, she could see it—black lines twisting like veins beneath her skin.

She rubbed her fingers over it, expecting pain, but it didn't hurt. Instead, it felt cold. Too cold.

Sam glanced at her from the driver's seat. "Still there?"

Ellie didn't answer right away. She just nodded.

Malcolm sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, watching her through the rearview mirror. "The ritual severed their grip. But the tether? That's still intact."

Ellie clenched her jaw. "What does that mean?"

Malcolm sighed. "It means you're still connected to them. They can't take you yet, but they can still influence you."

A chill ran down her spine. "Influence how?"

Malcolm hesitated. "Dreams. Hallucinations. Maybe even… worse."

Ellie exhaled sharply. "Great. So I'm haunted now."

"No," Malcolm said, turning to face her. "You're marked. That's different. They won't just scare you, Ellie. They'll try to pull you back."

The words settled between them like a weight.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then Sam muttered, "This just keeps getting better."

The First Sign

They checked into a small roadside motel for the night, too exhausted to drive any farther. Sam took first watch—just in case.

Ellie lay awake in the bed, staring at the ceiling. The whispering had stopped. The farmhouse was miles away. But the cold in her bones? That hadn't left.

She turned over, tucking her hand under the pillow. Her eyes burned with exhaustion, and soon, despite everything, she drifted off.

And then—

She woke up somewhere else.

A dark, endless space. No walls. No floor. Just nothingness stretching in all directions.

She tried to move. Her body felt heavy, like something was pressing down on her.

A sound broke the silence.

A whisper.

Soft. Close.

"Ellie."

Her breath caught.

A shape emerged from the shadows.

It looked human—almost. A tall figure, its body wrapped in shifting darkness. But unlike the Hollow Ones from before, this one had eyes.

Cold, hollow, silver eyes.

Ellie tried to step back, but the void held her in place.

The figure tilted its head. Its voice was low, almost… familiar.

"We are not finished."

Ellie's chest tightened. "Who are you?"

A slow, creeping smile spread across the figure's shadowed face.

"You already know."

A hand reached toward her—long fingers stretching, curling—

Ellie jerked awake with a gasp.

The motel room was dark, the air thick with silence.

Sam was still sitting by the door, arms crossed, half-dozing. The clock on the nightstand blinked 3:00 AM.

For a moment, she thought it had been a dream.

Then she looked down.

And froze.

The mark on her hand had spread.

And this time, it was pulsing.