The Haunting Hollow Chapel

The old church loomed before them, a skeletal ruin of stone and rotting wood. Its pointed steeple stretched toward the moon, its broken windows staring like hollow eyes.

Rhea stood at the entrance, her heartbeat steady but her stomach twisting. The air around them was wrong—thick and unnatural, like the forest itself was holding its breath.

Evelyn touched her arm. "Last chance to turn back."

Rhea inhaled sharply. "No. We have to do this."

Evelyn nodded and pushed open the heavy wooden door.

The hinges groaned like a dying thing.

Inside, the air smelled of dust and decay. Pews lay overturned, shattered glass crunched beneath their boots, and deep claw marks marred the walls.

Rhea shivered. "Something happened here."

Evelyn scanned the room, her golden eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "Whatever it was, it wasn't holy."

They moved deeper into the church, their footsteps echoing against the stone floor. Every shadow seemed to stretch toward them, whispering silent warnings.

Then—

A sound.

A low, rasping breath.

Rhea's blood ran cold.

She turned toward the altar.

And saw it.

The Wraithborn stood there, half-shrouded in darkness, its hollow black eyes locked onto her. It didn't move. It simply waited.

Evelyn growled low in her throat. "We end this. Now."

She lunged, shifting halfway—her claws swiping through the air—

But the Wraithborn vanished.

Rhea gasped. "Where—?"

A whisper. Behind her.

She spun—

Cold fingers grazed her wrist.

A sudden rush of energy flooded through her, images slamming into her mind—

Flashes of fire. Blood. A figure screaming in agony. A name, spoken in a voice that was hers—but not.

"You promised me."

Rhea stumbled back, gasping.

Evelyn caught her. "Rhea? What happened?"

She pressed a hand to her head, her pulse racing. "I—I saw something. A memory. But it wasn't mine."

Evelyn's expression hardened. "Then whose was it?"

Rhea swallowed.

And the answer came to her, unbidden and terrifying.

The Wraithborn's.