Chapter 444

The town of Halcyon had always been small. It had once flourished with nearly three thousand people, but now only about twelve hundred remained. Most left after the disappearances began. Year after year, someone vanished from the woods, and it was never long before the townsfolk realized it was their turn again. This year, it was Rachel.

She had been warned, like the others, but she'd laughed it off. She was too stubborn, too independent. They told her to stay away from the woods.

They said the trees had eyes, and sometimes those eyes followed you. They told her that if you didn't listen, you might just end up like them: another name scratched on the missing persons board, never to be heard from again.

Rachel didn't believe in such things. She thought it was all superstition, the fear of a dying town that couldn't let go. And yet, here she was, walking the edge of the forest as twilight dripped across the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gray and purple. Her boots crunched over the dead leaves, the smell of pine filling her nostrils. She tried to shake off the feeling creeping up her spine, the one that told her she was being watched.

"Come on," she muttered to herself. "It's just a forest."

The wind shifted, snapping a twig behind her, but when she spun around, no one was there. Rachel snorted, nervously adjusting her jacket.

The first night she disappeared wasn't the worst. It wasn't the fear that settled in her bones. It was the quiet. The kind that fills your ears until your mind becomes its own worst enemy.

The townspeople noticed when she didn't return. A search party was sent out the next morning, but by then, Rachel was gone. Not just physically. There was something about her absence that didn't sit right. As if she'd never existed.

Her family, her friends, they all stood in silence at the town hall. Rachel's mother gripped her husband's hand tightly, her knuckles white. "Where is she?"

"I don't know, Mary," Thomas said, his voice barely audible. "But we'll find her."

They searched the woods, called her name into the hollows, but only the echo answered. No one had any answers, and no one spoke of it. Not directly. Not in front of the children. But the fear was palpable, thick like a fog. And the next year, another person was gone. Then another.

The townspeople didn't discuss the disappearances much anymore. It was a fact of life now. The woods took what it wanted, and that was that. If you didn't leave, you could be next. It was always something in the back of your mind, a nagging whisper that there was nothing anyone could do.

The thing that lived in the woods never spoke, not aloud anyway.

As the days passed, the weather turned colder. People started to huddle more inside, retreating into their homes to avoid the chill and the whispers of the outside world. Rachel's absence was a weight in the air, thick and unbearable. Her family moved to the city soon after she was lost. Her mother couldn't handle it anymore.

One night, just as autumn's last breath passed, a storm rolled in. The wind howled through the cracked windows. Lightning danced in the sky, illuminating the twisted trees outside. Inside, a group of friends huddled in the town's only bar, nursing their drinks.

The bar was old, the floors creaked with every step. It had seen more ghosts than any place should. Everyone was talking, but the mood wasn't light. No one had the energy to joke anymore.

"I heard something out there last night," Paul said, his voice thick with alcohol. "Some kind of growl."

"You've been drinking too much," Sarah said.

"I'm not drunk. I swear it," Paul shot back. "I heard something out there. Something heavy, like it was walking on two legs. But... wrong. It wasn't right."

The others went silent.

"You've heard it too, haven't you?" Paul's eyes went wide. "The trees... They're watching us."

"Stop it, Paul. You're scaring me," Sarah said, her hands shaking.

"Don't you feel it?" Paul pressed. "Every year, someone goes missing. The woods, they take them."

"Enough!" Sarah's voice cracked. "We're all just trying to forget it."

The room was quiet for a long while. Then the door swung open, rattling in its frame. A tall man with a long coat stepped inside. His face was hidden under a wide-brimmed hat, but his posture was that of someone who had seen too much.

"You shouldn't be out here," he said, his voice deep and gravelly. "Not in the woods. Not after dark."

Paul blinked, startled by the sudden interruption. "Who are you?"

The man didn't answer immediately. He only glanced around, his eyes lingering on the few people in the bar. He stepped further inside, not bothering to remove his coat. The storm outside was raging, but he seemed unaffected.

"You've heard the stories, haven't you?" the man said, his gaze now fixed on Paul. "The one who lives in the woods."

Sarah flinched, looking away.

The stranger didn't move, but his presence filled the room. It was like he carried the weight of the town's history on his shoulders.

"It's not a story," the man added softly. "It's real. The woods call to it every year. And this time, it's calling for you."

Paul shifted uncomfortably. "What are you talking about?"

"You'll know soon enough. They always do."

The man left just as suddenly as he'd entered, leaving a room full of people unnerved and silent. The storm outside seemed to intensify, rattling the windows.

The next morning, the town awoke to find Paul gone. No sign of struggle, no sign of anything out of the ordinary, except for a strange symbol carved into the ground where his house once stood. The symbol was old, much older than anyone in the town could remember. It was jagged, as if drawn by something with sharp claws.

After Paul, the missing persons reports had become a part of the town's routine. People would leave, and eventually, a new name would appear. It was an unspoken rule: you didn't ask why, you didn't ask how. You just dealt with it. The town was hollowing out, but the woods only grew thicker.

Rachel's friends had left by now, scattered across the country or across the world. Some had never even spoken of her again. A few dared to visit the town once a year, but they were too afraid to stay.

The town's population kept shrinking. And yet, the entity that lived in the woods? It never left. It was patient, waiting, lurking behind the trees. Watching.

In the weeks leading up to Rachel's disappearance, she had tried to warn everyone. She had noticed things—little things. She saw people looking over their shoulders, glancing nervously into the woods.

Some of them had started to vanish quietly, without warning. Others, they changed. Their eyes became distant, hollow. It was as if something had taken hold of them, something that had been waiting for years.

"I think we need to leave," Rachel said one evening, sitting across from Sarah at the bar. Her eyes were wide, desperate. "There's something out there. Something that's been calling."

"Don't say that. You're starting to sound like Paul," Sarah said, sipping her drink.

"I'm serious, Sarah. I've seen it."

"Seen what?"

"The trees move. The shadows—" Rachel stopped herself, but it was too late.

"Stop." Sarah's voice dropped to a whisper. "You're scaring me."

Rachel stood up suddenly, eyes wild. "No, you don't understand. It's waiting for us."

The room went silent. The other patrons avoided looking at her, pretending they hadn't heard. But they all knew. They all knew that Rachel's time was coming.

By the time Rachel ventured into the woods, the moon was already high. The wind had died down, but the silence was unbearable. There were no birds. No insects. Nothing.

Then, she heard it—the rustling of leaves. But this was different. It was not the wind. It was something deliberate, something close. Her pulse quickened.

Suddenly, the air around her seemed to grow heavier. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her eyes darting to the shadows beneath the trees. Something was watching her, something huge. She could feel its presence.

A cold wind rushed past her ear, but there were no words. Just a low growl that made her blood run cold.

Then, just as quickly as it had come, the presence was gone.

Rachel stumbled back, eyes wide. But she didn't turn to run.

She had a feeling that if she did, it would be the last thing she ever did.

The next morning, the town found Rachel's body in the woods. Her eyes were wide open, but there was no sign of what had killed her. The symbol—the same one Paul had found—was carved into the ground beneath her.

The entity that lived in the woods had taken her. And the town? It would wait for the next.

And the next. And the next. Until there was no one left.