Echoes of the Past

The shadows lingered long after Martha's words faded, their shapes twisting through the dim room, faces flickering in the candlelight. Eleanor's hands trembled, her breath hitching as she pressed herself against the cold wall, her mother's voice echoing through her mind.

"Come home, Eleanor… come home…"

Martha watched her from across the room, eyes hollow and rimmed with shadow. She looked smaller now, fragile beneath her woolen shawl, shoulders hunched beneath the weight of her words. The old woman's hands shook as she gripped the back of her chair, knuckles white, her face pale.

Eleanor's heart thudded, cold dread settling in her stomach. She could feel the air shifting around her, heavy with a presence that watched from the darkness, its gaze cold and unyielding. The shadows moved along the walls, faces forming and fading, mouths moving in silent whispers.

"What… what is The Echo?" Eleanor's voice trembled, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. "Why does it call to me?"

Martha's face tightened, her lips pressed into a thin line. She looked away, eyes fixed on the flickering flame, its light dancing across her weathered skin. "The Echo isn't a creature, child. It's not flesh and bone… not something you can fight or kill. It's a memory… a curse… a promise made long before you were born."

Eleanor's pulse quickened, her chest tightening. "A promise?"

Martha's eyes darkened, shadows curling around her ankles. "Long ago, when the crops failed and the winters were cruel, the villagers were desperate. The land was barren, the rivers dry. People were starving… dying. They prayed for salvation… and something heard them."

A shiver ran down Eleanor's spine, her skin prickling with cold. She could feel the air grow heavier, the shadows pressing closer, listening to Martha's words.

"They called it The Echo, for it was not of this world, not flesh and blood. It was a voice… a whisper on the wind. It promised to bring prosperity, to make the land fertile, the rivers flow. But it demanded something in return… a life, once every ten years."

Eleanor's stomach churned, nausea rising in her throat. "A sacrifice."

Martha's face twisted with pain, her fingers curling into fists. "Yes. And in return, the village would thrive. The land would be abundant, the winters mild. But those who were given to The Echo… they were erased. Forgotten, as if they never existed."

The room grew colder, the candles flickering as shadows crept across the floor. Eleanor's breath fogged, her body shivering as a chill seeped into her bones. "How… how can someone be erased?"

Martha's gaze fixed on her, eyes hollow and distant. "The Echo feeds on memory… on identity. It doesn't just take a life; it takes the very essence of that person… their past, their name, their face. Those who are sacrificed… they become nothing. Not even a ghost remains."

Eleanor's blood ran cold, her fingers trembling. The faces she'd seen in the shadows… the whispers that called her name… they weren't ghosts. They were echoes, fragments of those who had been erased.

"And my mother… she was part of this?" Her voice cracked, the words heavy with disbelief. "She knew about the sacrifices?"

Martha's shoulders sagged, her face etched with sorrow. "She was more than just a healer, Eleanor. She was the Keeper… the one who chose the sacrifice and carried the memory. She was bound to The Echo… as her mother was before her… and as you were meant to be."

The room tilted, the walls closing in. Eleanor's heart skipped, her vision blurring as the shadows pressed closer, their faces watching her with hollow eyes. "Me? What do you mean?"

Martha's voice dropped to a whisper, her hands twisting in her lap. "Ten years ago, you were chosen. You were meant to be the sacrifice… to be erased. But your mother couldn't bear it. She made a bargain… a terrible bargain… and broke the cycle."

Eleanor stumbled back, her body striking the wall, the air leaving her lungs in a rush. "No… that's… that's not possible."

Martha's face crumpled, eyes shining with tears. "She offered herself instead… but it wasn't enough. The Echo accepted her, but the curse wasn't broken. It waits for you, Eleanor… waits for the promise to be fulfilled."

The floor swayed beneath her, shadows curling around her ankles, cold and suffocating. Her mother's voice echoed through her mind, mournful and haunting. "Come home, Eleanor… come home…"

Eleanor sank to her knees, hands gripping her head, fingers tangled in her hair. Memories surged, fragments of her childhood breaking through the fog: her mother's arms wrapped around her, holding her tight, her voice trembling as she whispered words Eleanor couldn't understand. "I'm so sorry… so sorry…"

The room grew colder, darkness swirling through the air, the shadows pressing closer, faces watching her with hollow eyes. The candles flickered, the flames bending, the light fading. She could feel The Echo's presence, ancient and hungry, its voice brushing her skin, cold and hollow.

Martha moved closer, her hands trembling as she reached for Eleanor. "You must leave… leave this village and never look back. If you stay… it will take you. It will finish what it started."

Eleanor looked up, her eyes burning, chest heaving. "But… how can I leave? How can I run from something that calls my name… that's been waiting for me?"

Martha's face twisted with grief, tears slipping down her cheeks. "You can't. Not anymore. The moment you set foot in this village, the cycle began again. It will come for you… just as it came for the others."

The floor creaked, shadows shifting, faces moving through the darkness. Eleanor could hear them now, voices whispering her name, hollow and mournful. She could feel their cold breath on her skin, their hands brushing her shoulders, cold and empty.

Martha's fingers tightened around Eleanor's arm, her eyes wide with fear. "Run, Eleanor. Run before it finds you."

The shadows surged, the candles extinguishing with a hiss, darkness falling over the room. Eleanor's heart raced, pulse thundering in her ears, her body trembling. She could feel The Echo's presence, cold and suffocating, its voice curling around her.

"Come home, Eleanor… come home…"

The darkness closed in, shadows wrapping around her throat, cold fingers digging into her skin. She gasped, choking, her vision blurring, the walls bending.

And then she was running, her body moving on instinct, feet pounding against the floor, the door slamming behind her. The fog swallowed her, cold and damp, shadows twisting through the air, faces flickering in the mist. The melody followed her, low and mournful, echoing through the trees, calling her name.

"Come home…"

Eleanor ran through the fog, shadows swirling around her, their hollow voices echoing through the night. She didn't look back. She didn't dare.