2. Road to Hollowmere

The van jolted and rattled as it traveled along the uneven, bumpy forest roads, gravel crunching and popping beneath the tires with each hop. Tall pines and ash trees lined both sides of the road, stretching high into the sky. Their branches were knotted, thick, and tangled, giving the impression that they'd grown in secret for hundreds of years. The dense canopy above cast flickering shadows inside the van, creating a shifting pattern of light and dark. Inside, the five friends kept their voices loud and lively, trying to fill the stillness that stretched beyond the glass. The cabin was filled with laughter, teasing, and playful banter, all to drown out the quiet that seemed to press in from all sides.

Ash, sitting in the backseat, broke the silence with a grin. "Okay," he said loudly, "what's the worst way to die in these woods? Go." His voice carried over the hum of the engine and the muffled sounds of their chatter. The others paused briefly, then Mira, without lifting her gaze from her sketchbook, replied calmly, "Hypothermia. Quiet, slow, poetic." She was focused, her pencil darting across the paper as she sketched some scene only she could see. Varyon smirked, flipping a small, mischievous smile. "Poisoned berries," he said, voice teasing. "Betrayed by a salad full of deadly plants." The group burst into giggles. Lina, bouncing slightly with amusement, added happily, "Falling into an ancient ritual pit filled with bones." Her voice was light, but the idea made everyone pause and stare at her. She just shrugged, a small smile on her face. "What? I read weird books. It's in my head." Her friends chuckled but knew she wasn't joking.

Rylan, leaning against the window with a relaxed sigh, looked dreamy. "See," he said, "I was gonna say 'bear attack,' but honestly, now I feel like I'm underachieving." He looked out at the trees, imagining a ferocious bear lurking in the shadows. Ash gave a little laugh, nodding. "That's a classic hero answer. Noble, brave, and kind of boring." His tone was teasing, but he knew the truth. Varyon, chipping in, declared confidently, "Let the record show — I fully plan to outlive all of you." His tone was serious but with a hint of humor, knowing full well that everyone's life would eventually end someday. Mira sighed, a little amused and resigned. "Great, so our legacy will be sarcasm and shadows," she muttered quietly, shooting a playful glare at Varyon. The group fell silent for a moment, contemplating their little inside joke about how they'd be remembered.

As the road grew narrower and the trees thickened overhead, the sunlight struggled to pass through the tangled branches. A tunnel of green closed around them, making the world outside seem like a dark corridor pressing inward. Time felt stretched thin in this silence. Cell signals rapidly disappeared, leaving them cut off from the buzz of their phones and the internet. Rylan leaned his head against the cool glass, letting the noise of their voices—jokes, stories, and teasing remarks—blend into a soothing blur. The passing scenery dissected into fragmented pieces: a rusted, crooked iron fence half-swallowed by vines; ancient stone markers that looked like remnants of old graves; a broken, moss-covered statue with its face missing, weathered by years of rain and wind. Every so often, Rylan caught a flicker in his peripheral vision—something moving just beyond the trees, a shadow darker and quicker than the rest, or a twist in the trail that didn't quite match the path they knew. A fleeting sense of something unseen made his skin crawl, but when he blinked, everything was gone, leaving only the quiet woods behind.

Mira noticed his silence and nudged him gently. "Hey," she murmured softly, "You okay?" Her voice was calm, but her eyes held a trace of concern. Rylan hesitated, trying to keep his composure. "Yeah," he answered, avoiding her gaze. Inside, he knew he wasn't being completely honest. "Another dream?" she asked, her voice gentle. He hesitated longer, then nodded slowly. "Sort of," he admitted. "It's more like... I'm not dreaming it. I remember it. But I don't know if I've actually been there before. It feels like a memory I shouldn't have." Mira nodded, as if she understood what he meant, even if she didn't say anything. She flipped open her sketchbook and turned to a blank page, then began drawing without a word. Her hand moved swiftly, capturing something unseen. "It's weird," she said softly, more to herself than anyone else. "Last night, I drew something I've never seen before. But I knew how it looked — the stones, the moss, even the cracks in the surface. Like I'd seen it in a dream I forgot I had." Rylan watched her without speaking. "You think it's Hollowmere?" she asked after a moment, eyes on her drawing. Her voice was quiet. He nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Something's waking up there. I can feel it." He didn't ask her what she meant by that. He already knew—they all did.

Soon, a faded wooden sign appeared, creaking softly in the breeze. It was nailed to a leaning, crooked post, ancient and weather-beaten. The paint was chipped and peeling, but the words still clung to the wood, faint but readable: HOLLOWMERE GROVE – ARCHAEOLOGICAL ZONE. ENTRY BY PERMIT ONLY. The sign's worn letters hinted at secrets buried beneath the trees and moss. The van bumped onto a hidden gravel trail, bumping over roots and loose stones. It rolled into a wide, open space beneath the canopy. At first, it appeared to be just another part of the forest — quiet, shadowed, full of silence. But then, as the trees thinned around the edges, the true nature of what lay beneath became clear: the ruins. Massive stones, half-covered in moss and ferns, curved around the clearing in jagged, broken shapes. Some stones jutted up like ribs, cracked and misshapen. Others leaned at odd angles, their shapes swallowed partially by gnarled tree roots that had woven through and around them like veins. The ancient stones seemed frozen in time, fighting to stay upright after centuries. The forest beyond was dense and silent, but not the usual peaceful quiet. This was something deeper, heavier. The sounds of the woods were muted, as if sound itself was being swallowed or held back.

Ash stepped out, whistling softly. A slow smile spread across his face. "Creepy as hell. I love it," he said, voice husky with excitement. His eyes gleamed with the thrill of discovering something old and mysterious. Lina stood nearby, brushing her fingertips along a fallen column, staring thoughtfully at the cracked surface. "It's like the earth forgot this place existed," she whispered, voice soft. Her eyes traced the broken shapes, her mind already piecing together stories they could tell. Varyon leaned slightly forward, eyes narrowing. "Or maybe," he said carefully, "it just kept it secret. Maybe some things are better left buried." His words hung in the air, heavy with possibility. Mira crouched near a flat slab covered in strange carvings. Her fingers traced the faint spirals and lines etched into the stone. "There's writing under here," she murmured, her voice filled with awe. "Really old symbols, I think. It looks ceremonial, like it was used in some ancient ritual or event." She looked up at her friends, eyes shining with curiosity. Rylan's gaze lingered on the stonework. It was broken and covered in moss and cracks, yet it felt oddly familiar. Like he'd knelt here once before, in a different life, or maybe a different time. He tried to dismiss the feeling but couldn't. Behind them, Ms. Arlow appeared, stepping out of her car with her clipboard in hand. Her presence was authoritative but calm. She called out, "Alright, everyone. Tents go on the west end of the site, cooking station over there on the east. You've got four days and three nights to observe, sketch, and document anything that seems connected to these ruins. But stay on the marked trails—no wandering outside designated areas." Her tone left no room for argument. Ash raised his hand, grinning. "Are the ruins haunted?" he asked, eyes bright with mischief. Ms. Arlow returned his grin with a knowing look. "Hopefully," she replied, her voice teasing. The others looked at each other, a mix of excitement and curiosity filling the air as they prepared to explore this mysterious place.

By mid-afternoon, the camp was beginning to take shape, but it was far from complete. Sleeping bags had been carefully rolled and stacked in a corner, ready to be laid out once the tents were fully pitched. The tents themselves stood tall in the uneven ground, some partially upright and others still leaning against each other as they drifted toward their final positions. Mira was already covered in a light layer of charcoal smudges from her efforts to trace the ancient stone glyphs on a nearby slab. She had spent the last hour kneeling close to the surface, her fingers smudging dirt and charcoal, trying to decipher what the symbols might mean. The smudges marred her hands and face, giving her a rugged look that matched her intense focus.

Ash and Varyon worked side by side, but their silence was unusual. They moved with a quiet efficiency, untangling long, thick ropes that were meant to secure their tents and supplies. Ash fumbled around sometimes, pretending to be confident but often glancing at Varyon, who seemed more familiar with the ropes. Varyon had sat through countless camping trips before; he was used to this kind of work. Ash didn't look like he belonged here, trying to imitate Varyon's calm movements and steady hands. Still, he managed to get the job done, even if he kept pretending he knew what he was doing.

Meanwhile, Rylan and Lina focused on unboxing the solar-powered lamps designed to light around the outer ring of the site. They moved in tandem, carefully unfolding the lamps and checking their batteries. As they stepped between the stone monuments, Lina suddenly brushed against a vine hanging low and close to the ground. The vine was thick and leafy, curling lazily as it stretched across the stones. When Lina's arm touched it, the vine responded strangely. It slowly curled, as if reaching out toward her wrist, then suddenly recoiled as if startled by her touch. Her brow furrowed in confusion, and she looked at Rylan, who had paused and frowned sharply.

"Did you see that?" Rylan asked, his voice low, eyes fixed on the vine. His expression was serious, and his brow was creased with concern. Lina looked away, shaken, but her eyes stayed wide with surprise and curiosity. She shook her head slowly, trying to ignore the strange movement. Still, her mind kept replaying the moment, wondering if the vine had truly reacted or if her imagination was playing tricks. Neither of them said much, but a quiet tension filled the air, hinting at something strange lurking just beneath the surface of their usual exploration.

As evening fell, the group gathered around a large campfire, the flames crackling and sending bright sparks into the darkening sky. They shared dinner and stories by the fire, each person trying to relax after a long day of work. The fire's glow danced on their faces, casting flickering shadows that added an eerie feel to the night. Once the food was finished and the stories had quieted down, they sat loosely in a circle, watching the embers pulse with a faint glow. No one wanted to break the silence that fell, each lost in their own thoughts while the fire slowly burned down to glowing coals.

After a while, Mira broke the silence with a soft, almost hesitant voice. She looked into the shrinking flames and asked quietly, "Do you ever feel like… we've done this before?" Her words hung in the air, delicate but charged with something deeper. She seemed genuinely unsettled, her eyes fixed on the flickering lights. Her voice carried a quiet concern, as if she was questioning the very nature of their journey, or perhaps her own memories.

Ash looked up at her, raising one eyebrow in surprise. "What, like déjà vu?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood but not quite succeeding.

"No," Mira replied softly, shaking her head. "Not just that. It's more like… like the exact group we are now, in this exact place. Like we're caught in a loop, doing this all over again." Her voice trembled slightly, as if the words themselves made her uneasy.

Varyon, who had been leaning back in his chair, brought his sunglasses to catch the firelight. He leaned forward slightly, his tone playful but serious. "That would make a great ghost story," he said, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips.

Mira looked directly at him, her eyes steady. "I'm not joking," she said quietly. Her face was serious now, and her words carried a weight that made the others fall silent again.

Rylan sat quietly, not speaking. His gaze was fixed on the flickering embers, lost in thought. He was feeling it too — a strange sensation deep inside, as if the shadows around them weren't just shadows. He couldn't explain it, but he sensed something off about the night, something lurking just beneath their awareness. He felt it most when they passed certain trees, their shadows shifting subtly in the firelight, almost as if the forest itself was watching, waiting. It was an unsettling feeling that made the hair on his arms stand up. Like the woods had been here long before them, and somehow, it knew they were coming. Like they had entered a place that remembered.