Story 1160: The Maw in the Clearing

The forest clearing was unnaturally round—too perfect, too clean. No birds entered it. No wind crossed its ring. The air hung heavy, as though holding its breath.

At its center was a hole, wide as a cart, dark as ink. No roots jutted from its sides. No scent of soil. Just a void in the earth, as if the world had yawned in agony.

Locals called it the Maw.

They warned travelers: “If the trees go silent, turn back. If the ground feels hollow, run.”

But Calder Brinn did not heed warnings.

He was a hunter by trade, prideful and tired of ghosts in stories. After his son vanished months ago—last seen wandering too close to Moonwood—Calder set his sights on truth. He carried a lantern that flickered red instead of gold, and a blade marked with elder runes passed from a friend of the witches.

He found the clearing just as night fell.