The Dark Man, PT. 2

A haunting binds old friends and a stranger in a fight against a shadow older than memory

—--------------------Part Two—----------------

The truck bumped along the barely-there dirt trail, tires grinding over rocks and roots, the suspension groaning with every jolt. The forest around them seemed to close in, the trees thick with damp moss, their dark silhouettes swaying in the windless air. The road was narrow, and the branches overhead scraped against the truck’s roof, as if the woods themselves were trying to keep them from passing.
There was no moon tonight, only the faint glow from the truck’s headlights that cut through the fog, giving the landscape an eerie, spectral glow. The world felt suspended in time—still, heavy, almost suffocating. Not a single bird called out, no rustling of leaves, no sound but the steady thrum of the truck’s engine and the occasional creak of the tires as they traversed the uneven ground.
Jessica leaned her head against the window, eyes scanning the shadows outside, half-closed as exhaustion finally started to settle in. Nora sat beside her, tense, her gaze flicking between the trees and Walker, who was gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity. His jaw was tight, his focus unwavering as he navigated the twisting trail. Now and then, his eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, scanning for any sign of the thing that hunted them.
Then, as if the forest had been holding its breath, the cabin appeared through the trees, emerging slowly from the blackness. A crooked silhouette, sagging under the weight of time, moss creeping up its sides like a slow, inevitable embrace. The roof was half-collapsed in places, and the walls were dark with age, but the structure stood firm, unbroken. It looked abandoned, and yet something was reassuring about it. Safe, at least for the time being.
Walker slowed the truck to a crawl as they approached. The engine sputtered and hummed, the headlights flickering, but still, the cabin loomed in front of them. Its presence, though weathered, was like a quiet refuge in the heart of the storm.
He finally brought the truck to a stop, the tires skidding slightly in the wet earth before they came to rest. The engine cut out, leaving only the soft echo of its final sputter in the air. Silence fell like a heavy blanket over them. The rain, a steady drizzle now, began to slow as well, leaving the world hushed. The woods surrounding them were dark and still, the air thick with dew. Not a single chirp of a cricket. Not a whisper of wind.
Walker sat for a long moment, his hands still gripping the wheel as he stared out at the cabin, his face unreadable. Then, he exhaled slowly, the weight of everything pressing down on him. “This used to be my grandfather’s,” he said, his voice low and rough, almost like he was speaking to himself. “We’ll be safe here—at least for a little while.”
Jessica didn’t answer right away, her gaze fixed on the cabin. There was a quiet sort of reverence in the way she looked at it, as if it were some sort of sanctuary. But beneath that, she felt an unease—like the place itself was holding its breath, waiting for something.
She glanced over at Nora, who was already opening the door. Nora’s face was pale, but she looked determined, her eyes sharp as she stepped out into the damp earth. “Let’s get inside,” she said, her voice steady despite the tension hanging between them.
The air outside was thick with humidity, the earth soft beneath their feet. They made their way toward the cabin, the ground squelching as they walked, the scent of wet earth and old pine trees filling the air. The door to the cabin creaked open, revealing the interior, dim and suffused with the smell of dust and decay.
Inside, the air was stale, stagnant with age. Dust motes swirled lazily in the lantern light that Walker quickly lit, the faint glow flickering in the corner of the room. A rusted stove sat unused in the far corner, its metal dark and cold. The walls were covered with old hunting trophies—faded deer heads staring down at them, their glassy eyes unblinking in the soft light.
Walker dropped his duffel bag by the door with a thud, the sound oddly loud in the silence of the cabin. He looked around, his eyes scanning the familiar yet strange space. Everything was as he remembered, yet it felt foreign, like a place suspended in time.
He turned, meeting their eyes. “I need rest,” he muttered, his voice weary. His hand ran over his face, his fingers pressing against his eyes as if trying to ward off the fatigue that was setting in. “He’s strongest at night. I can’t keep my eyes open much longer.” Nora nodded, her face set in grim lines as she took a seat at the small table by the window. The rain pattered against the glass, a soft rhythm that helped to ease the tension in the room, though it didn’t take away the weight of the night.
Jessica stood by the door for a moment, her mind still reeling. The dark man. The things they had just witnessed. Her stomach twisted with unease, but there was nothing to do but sit and wait, wait for whatever came next. She finally moved toward the couch, the creaking of the old wood beneath her feet reminding her how fragile everything felt.
Nora stood and walked over to the stove, her movements purposeful as she started a small fire in the old, rusted stove. The heat spread quickly, and the warmth began to seep into their bones. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. For now.
“Will we be safe here?” Jessica asked, her voice still trembling slightly as she glanced over at Walker.
He met her gaze, his expression hardening. “For now, yes. But he won’t stop. Not until he’s finished what he started.”
There was a long pause as the weight of his words settled over them. Then Nora spoke, her voice steady as always. “We’ll keep watch. You get some rest. We can figure out what to do next in the morning.”
With that, Walker retreated into the bedroom.
“Don’t go too far without me,” Walker adds as he makes his way to the back room, heavy with exhaustion.
The door clicks shut behind him.

Jessica nodded, her exhaustion catching up to her. As she lay down on the couch, the warmth from the fire curled around her, and for a moment, she allowed herself to believe they were safe. But the dark man’s words echoed in her mind, and she knew, deep down, that their fight wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
Outside, the storm continued to roll through the woods, the wind picking up, howling between the trees. The night stretched on, quiet but thick with the weight of impending things.
Nora sat by the fire, her back to the door, eyes scanning the shadows. Jessica, though her body begged for sleep, couldn’t find peace. Her thoughts circled like vultures, the nightmare still fresh in her mind, the feeling of the dark man’s cold fingers wrapping around her heart.
Finally, she drifted into an uneasy sleep, the fire’s warmth lulling her into a restless slumber, the echoes of that otherworldly voice still ringing in her ears.
The fire in the corner crackled softly, the only sound breaking the heavy silence of the cabin. Outside, the storm had passed, leaving only a damp mist hanging in the air. The moonlight filtered through the small windows, casting long shadows across the room. The trio had slept for a few hours, though rest had been fitful. The weight of the events, the constant fear, and the unknowns hung over them, keeping them from truly finding peace.
Jessica sat up on the couch, staring into the flickering flames, her mind racing. Nora had gone quiet beside her, running her fingers through her hair as she leaned against the wall, lost in thought. Neither of them had dared disturb Walker, who was behind a closed door, his presence barely a whisper in the house. The cabin was still, save for the sound of their breathing and the occasional creak of the wooden structure settling under the weight of time.
Nora broke the silence first. "Do you think he's gone? The dark man, I mean."
Jessica's voice was low but firm. "No. He's still out there. And now we know why he’s after me. The pendant... It’s all connected. I just don't understand how, though. Why now?"
Nora didn’t answer right away. She looked toward the floor, her brow furrowing. “I don’t know. But I can’t shake the feeling we’re missing something important. Something here in the cabin."
Jessica glanced around, her eyes resting on the walls covered in old photographs and faded trophies. The cabin felt ancient, like it had absorbed the secrets of years long past. A chill ran down her spine as her gaze settled on the worn floorboards. There was something about them, something subtle, that made her feel uneasy.
“Do you hear that?” Nora asked suddenly, her voice sharp.
Jessica blinked, listening. There was no sound. Nothing but the low hum of the fire and the occasional rattle of old wood. But then she heard it too—a faint creaking beneath the floor, as if something had shifted. Without thinking, Nora moved to the center of the room, crouching down and inspecting the boards.
"What is it?" Jessica whispered, watching her.
Nora ran her hand along the edges of the floorboards, pressing gently. “Something’s not right. These boards… they’ve been moved before.”
With a soft grunt, Nora pressed a little harder, and one of the boards lifted with a reluctant groan. She peered into the gap, her eyes narrowing. A faint glimmer of something metallic caught her attention.
“Help me,” she said, looking up at Jessica.
Together, they pulled up the floorboard, revealing a hidden compartment beneath. The air inside it was stale, but there was a box nestled inside, small and rectangular, covered in dust. It wasn’t much to look at—worn leather, faded edges—but it felt important.
Nora reached in, her fingers brushing against the surface. “It’s locked,” she muttered, eyeing the rusted clasp.
Jessica leaned in, her curiosity piqued. “What do you think it is?”
“Only one way to find out,” Nora said, gently prying the box open with her hands. The lock gave way with a dull click, and the lid creaked open.
Inside, there was a small stack of leather-bound journals, their spines cracked with age. Alongside them lay a bundle of dried herbs, the faint scent of them lingering in the air. But the most striking thing of all was a faded drawing, folded neatly between the pages of one of the journals. The paper was yellowed with time, but the image was unmistakable—an exact replica of the pendant Jessica wore around her neck.
Jessica’s heart skipped a beat. She reached for the drawing, her fingers trembling as she examined the intricate details. “This… this is the pendant. It looks just like mine.”
Nora’s eyes narrowed as she leaned in closer. “That’s not all,” she said softly. “These journals… they might tell us more.”
Jessica carefully picked up one of the journals, brushing the dust from the cover. The name “Evelyn Marlowe” was faintly scratched into the leather, as if someone had carved it with a sharp object long ago. She felt a tightness in her chest as she flipped open the first page, the ink still dark enough to read.
The words on the page were a mix of notes and sketches—scribbles, hurried thoughts. But it was the last line that caught Jessica’s attention, a haunting message written in a familiar hand:
The bloodline will call when the time is right. The pendant is the key.
Her breath caught in her throat. She glanced at Nora, who was looking back at her with a mixture of fear and resolve.
“I think this was meant for us,” Jessica whispered.
Nora nodded slowly, her voice steady. “It’s all connected. The pendant, the ritual... whatever this bloodline is. And the dark man. He’s not just after you, Jessica. He’s after all of us.”
Jessica felt a knot tighten in her stomach, but she didn't pull away from the journal. "We need to find out what else it says."
They settled in on the floor, pages turning softly in the quiet cabin. The discovery was significant, but the realization that they were up against something ancient, something tied to their very bloodlines, weighed heavily on them both. Outside, the rain began to pick up again, tapping softly against the windows like a quiet warning.
Jessica glanced at Nora, then at the door where Walker still slept. "We’ll figure this out," she said, more to herself than to Nora. "But we have to do it fast."
Nora's gaze never left the journals. "The dark man won't give us much time."



—--------------xxx—--------------
The darkness pressed in, suffocating. Walker’s breaths were shallow, his body frozen in place. He couldn’t move, couldn’t scream. The shadows reached out, tendrils curling around him, pulling him deeper into the void. He heard a voice—low, guttural, like something ancient and twisted.
“You can’t stop me. Not this time.”
His eyes darted around, trying to find something—anything—to fight back with. The darkness wrapped around him like a cloak, and then—he saw it. The shape. The figure. The man in the dark.
He stood at the edge of the fog, his features indistinct, shifting like a bad dream.
“You remember me, don’t you?” the figure said, its voice slicing through his mind like a knife. “You always will.”
Walker’s hand twitched for his gun, but there was nothing. The cold, suffocating grip of the dark man closed in around him.
He was too late.
Walker woke with a jolt, gasping for breath. His eyes snapped open, heart hammering in his chest. Sweat drenched his clothes, his skin cold and clammy. He looked around, his surroundings slowly coming into focus. The small cabin. The creaking wood. The faint smell of pine and damp earth.

—-------------xxx—------------
The nightmare clung to him like a weight, but there was no time to dwell on it. He rubbed his face, trying to shake the lingering terror. He needed to check on the girls.
The cabin was quiet. Too quiet.
He swung his legs off the bed, boots hitting the wooden floor with a soft thud. Pushing the door open, he stepped into the dim light of the afternoon. The air was thick and heavy, a silence that stretched longer than it should have.
“Jessica? Nora?” His voice echoed off the walls, but there was no answer.
He moved through the cabin, checking every room. The beds were empty. No sign of them anywhere. Panic started to claw at him, scratching at the edges of his thoughts.
“Where the hell are they?” he muttered under his breath, his mind racing.
He grabbed his jacket, rushed to the door, and flung it open, his eyes scanning the yard. The truck was gone.
The knot in his stomach tightened. His hands clenched into fists.
The truck. They had taken it. They were gone.
He tried to steady his breathing, forcing the panic back. He couldn’t afford to lose control now. He had to think. They wouldn’t have gone far. He could track them. He could—
A faint sound reached his ears. The faint rumble of an engine.
His head whipped toward the sound, the weight of dread lifting for a split second. Could it be them?
He stepped forward, heart hammering as the noise grew louder. His breath caught. The engine grew steadily closer, a familiar sound on the wind.
It was them.
Grant’s hand moved to the strap of his gun. He wasn’t sure what he’d find, but he was ready for whatever came next.
The truck appeared around the bend, dust kicking up behind it, and Grant’s heart finally slowed.
They were safe. For now.

—-------------------xxx—--------------------
The girls have pulled up the floorboard and opened the chest. Inside: a small stack of leather-bound journals, a bundle of dried herbs, and a drawing of a pendant that looked just like the one Jessica wore. Jessica lifts one of the journals, brushing dust from the cover. The name "Evelyn Marlowe" is scratched faintly into the leather.
“This must be her,” Jessica says. “The one who bound him before.”
Jessica looks down at the pendant in her hand. It’s warm, almost pulsing.
“I think this is the key. To all of it.”
Jessica’s fingers trembled as she flipped through the brittle pages of the old journal, the ink fading at the edges but still legible enough to read. She had found the journal hidden among the dusty, cluttered shelves in the cabin’s back room. The leather cover was cracked and worn, the pages delicate, but there was something about it that called to her—a pull deep inside her bones.
Nora hovered nearby, her eyes scanning over Jessica’s shoulder. “What is it?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
“I think it’s... It’s Evelyn’s journal,” Jessica murmured, turning the page carefully. “It’s full of notes about... the Dark Man. And something called a binding spell.” She paused, her brow furrowing as she skimmed the lines. “It says it’s the only way to stop him.”
Nora stepped closer, her curiosity piqued. “A spell? What kind of spell?”
“I don’t know yet. There are a lot of details... but it looks like it involves two people from the same bloodline.” Jessica’s finger traced the words, her mind racing. “Evelyn and... someone named Elias. Her brother, I think.”
She turned the page slowly, carefully, as the air seemed to grow thicker with the weight of the words. As she reached the next part of the journal, her eyes caught a familiar name: The Dark Man.
Nora leaned in to read over her shoulder. “You said this is about how Evelyn stopped the Dark Man, right? Maybe we can use it.”
The girls read the passage, “Evelyn and Elias Marlowe had always been raised with an understanding of the world that transcended the ordinary. They were healers, yes, but their lineage carried a deeper, older knowledge—knowledge of the forces that lurked just beyond the veil of reality. Their family’s skills with herbs, potions, and ancient remedies were whispered about in the village, but it was the secret knowledge of the supernatural that had been passed down through the generations that would truly be tested when the darkness came. It started innocuously enough: strange deaths, sudden illnesses, and a creeping sense of unease that settled over the village like a thick fog. People were losing their minds, eyes glazed, feverish with a disease no remedy could touch. The old folk spoke of a shadow that haunted the woods, but no one truly believed them—not until Elias stumbled upon something that would change everything.
It was late one evening when Elias ventured into the forest, a place where the trees loomed like silent watchers. There, in the distance, he saw a figure—a man draped in a cloak of shadow so dark it swallowed the light around him. The air grew colder, the forest hushed, and Elias’s heart began to race.
The figure turned, its face hidden in the folds of darkness, but its eyes—there was no mistaking them. Two deep points of pressure where eyes should be, a void that seemed to pull at Elias’s very soul. The shadow spoke, not in words, but in a voice that echoed like the rustling of dead leaves.
“I am the one who walks in shadow. I am the hunger that never sleeps. And you, little one, will feed me.”
Before Elias could react, the dark man’s shadow seemed to stretch across the ground, swallowing the trees and the earth. Fear gripped Elias, but a sense of something familiar tugged at him—something buried deep in his blood.
He fled back to the village, but the dark man wasn’t done. The sickness spread, and the village’s people—old and young, strong and weak—were consumed by madness and despair. Desperate, Evelyn and Elias turned to the old rituals, to the forgotten knowledge they had inherited, hoping to find a way to banish the thing that had come for them.
It was during their research that they encountered an old mystic, a wandering healer who carried with her a jet-black pendant—strangely warm to the touch and smooth as glass. She spoke of an ancient legend, one that detailed a binding ritual that could imprison the dark man in a place between worlds. The key, however, was the pendant—a symbol of balance, forged in ancient times by a people who had once fought against the very darkness Evelyn and Elias now faced.
The pendant was no mere trinket; it held the power to strengthen the bloodline connection, to fortify the spell that would hold the darkness at bay. But the pendant alone would not be enough. The ritual required two members of the same bloodline—two souls bound by blood, whose essence would entwine with the dark man’s and weaken his grip on the mortal realm. Only with their blood would the spell hold firm.

Jessica nodded quickly, her eyes scanning the page. But the words on the next page weren’t what she expected. The ink had bled a little, making the text difficult to read. Still, the list of ingredients was unmistakable.
"Here," Jessica murmured. "These are the ingredients for the binding spell."
Nora leaned in, reading over her shoulder. The list was long, but it wasn’t impossible. Some of the ingredients were common, like herbs, but others were more obscure items that could be difficult to find. Still, Jessica’s heart raced as she read through them. She could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on her, the urgency mounting with every word.
“This is it,” Jessica said, voice tight with a mixture of hope and fear. “We have to gather these things... it’s the only way to stop him.”
Nora nodded, already moving toward the door. “Then let’s go. We don’t have much time.”
Jessica looked back at the journal one last time, at the passage they’d read about Evelyn and Elias—their bond, their courage to fight the darkness. She could feel her connection to them, to Evelyn, even though she didn’t fully understand it yet. But it was enough to give her strength.
She shut the journal and followed Nora outside, the weight of the spell heavy in her hands.

—---------------xxx—--------------------
As Jessica and Nora entered the small town, the street lights flickering in the early evening dusk, they quickly made their way through the aisles of the dusty local shop. It wasn’t much—just an old, weathered building with shelves stacked high with bottles of strange herbs, old books, and mysterious powders—but it had what they needed.
They gathered the items listed in Evelyn’s journal: rue, vervain, dragon’s blood resin, and a few others that were harder to pronounce. Jessica felt a strange pull, like something was drawing her attention to the far corner of the store. As she turned, she noticed an elderly woman standing in the shadows, watching them with unnervingly sharp eyes.
“Can I help you, dear?” the woman asked, her voice low but firm. She wore a long, faded shawl, and her hair was the color of ash, her skin creased with age but still possessing a certain strength.
Jessica hesitated, exchanging a glance with Nora before nodding. “Just gathering some things for a…uh… a project.”
The woman’s gaze flickered toward the items in their basket, her lips tightening as though she could see far beyond them, into something deeper.
“You’ll need more than herbs for this,” the woman said, her voice softer now, almost as though she were speaking to herself, but loud enough for them to hear. “You’ll need courage. And the will to make a choice. You’ll need to decide, truly decide, what you're willing to lose.”
Nora raised an eyebrow, unnerved by the strange woman’s cryptic tone. “What do you mean?”
The woman stepped closer, her eyes never leaving theirs, her smile thin and secretive. “One of you will not make it through the night. You can feel it, can’t you? The weight of what’s coming. The dark man’s shadow. It’s already inside of you.”
Jessica’s heart skipped a beat, a chill creeping down her spine. She wanted to ask more, to demand an explanation, but the woman was already turning, gliding silently back toward the door.
“Be careful, children,” she called over her shoulder as she left. “The darkness comes for those who fear it the most. And sometimes, it takes more than what you’re prepared to give.”
The door shut with a soft creak, leaving Jessica and Nora standing in the middle of the store, a strange weight settling over them.
Nora swallowed hard. “What the hell was that about?”
Jessica’s mind raced. The woman’s words felt like a warning—a truth veiled in mystery, but one that struck too close to home.
“We need to finish this,” Jessica said, her voice tight. “And get back. Before it’s too late.”
As Jessica and Nora arrived back at the cabin, the truck’s tires crunching against the gravel, they noticed Grant standing just outside the door, his hand hovering near the grip of his pistol. His posture was tense, as if every sound in the woods had put him on edge. His eyes snapped toward them as the truck rumbled to a stop, a mix of relief and frustration flashing across his face.
"Where the hell have you two been?" Grant's voice was low and sharp, the weight of his concern still evident, but there was a tension that came from his protective instincts.
Before he could say anything else, Jessica and Nora jumped out of the truck, grinning and barely able to contain their excitement. The heavy, worn journal was clutched tightly in Jessica’s hands.
"We found it! The spell of binding!" Jessica said, her voice full of urgency. "We know how to stop him."
Nora nodded enthusiastically, her eyes wide. "Everything’s in here—ingredients, the steps, the circle we need to draw. We have it all, Grant. We know what to do."
Grant’s brows furrowed. For a moment, the skepticism was evident in his eyes. "You’re sure about this? You’re both sure this is the right—"
"We’re sure," Jessica interrupted, her voice firm. She opened the journal, flipping to the marked passage. "We know how to finish this."
They began reading aloud the instructions in the journal. The words felt heavy, the air around them thick with tension as they went through the ingredients and the steps: herbs for the potion—rue, vervain, dragon’s blood resin, among others—and the circle they needed to form in the clearing outside the cabin. There were notes about the importance of timing, about the strength the bloodline brought to the spell. Evelyn’s hand, scrawled in the margins of the old pages, seemed to guide them step by step.
The fire crackled in the hearth behind them, casting long shadows against the walls as they poured over the text. Jessica’s voice trembled slightly as she read the passage on the circle’s formation, but there was no turning back now. She had to finish what was started.
Grant paced, his mind racing, trying to process everything. The weight of responsibility pressed down on him. This wasn’t just about Jessica anymore; it was about stopping something ancient, something that had been hunting for far too long. The dark man wasn’t just a threat; he was a cycle of horror that needed to end.
But Jessica’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Grant, look! There’s more. The potion... we have everything we need to create it. And once we do, we can bind him. To the pendant.”
Grant’s heart skipped. He knew the pendant—Jessica’s pendant—had power, but this, this was different. The notion that it could bind the dark man, put an end to him once and for all, felt almost too good to be true.
He knelt beside them, trying to focus. As Jessica read the final parts of the page aloud, he caught the slight shift in her tone. There was something else here, something in the way she hesitated before continuing. He could sense it—this was the part they hadn’t fully understood.
“What else?” Grant asked, his voice suddenly colder. “What aren’t you saying?”
Jessica glanced at Nora, then back down at the journal. Her finger traced over the words, her expression going pale as she read the next line silently. Nora’s brow furrowed, and she read aloud the part that made Jessica’s heart race.
“The final ingredient...” Jessica whispered, her voice almost a breath. “A willing sacrifice, someone who has traveled with us, who understands their fate...”
The words hung in the air between them like a terrible weight.
Grant’s stomach tightened, the realization dawning slowly but inevitably.
A willing sacrifice.
He opened his mouth to speak but stopped short, his gaze flicking from Jessica’s face to the journal and back again. “You—”
But before he could finish, a terrible silence fell over the cabin. Jessica’s heart thundered in her chest, her mind a whirlwind. They had everything they needed for the potion, but this—the sacrifice—this was the part they hadn’t expected. The part that would change everything.
And as the air grew heavy with the weight of what they had just learned, Jessica’s gaze lingered on Grant, her thoughts racing.
No one was prepared for what was to come.

They sat on the cabin floor, legs crossed, the journal open between them. A single lantern flickered nearby, casting shadows on the worn wooden walls, dancing in time with the quiet crackle of the fire.
The words a willing sacrifice lay heavy on the page, unmoving and merciless.
Jessica had read them aloud. Nora hadn’t flinched.
But now, in the silence, Jessica reached out, taking Nora’s hand in both of hers.
“I remember that time we got lost trying to find that stupid pumpkin patch,” Jessica said, her voice barely above a whisper, as if she spoke too loud, it would break the fragile calm holding them together.
Nora smiled softly, not looking away. “You refused to admit we were lost. Made me follow you two miles down a dirt road just to prove a point.”
“And we ended up in a cow field.” Jessica chuckled, a short, watery laugh. “You said you’d never trust my sense of direction again.”
“I didn’t.” Nora squeezed her hand. “I just liked seeing where you’d lead me.”
They were quiet for a moment.
Jessica glanced at the journal, her brows pinching. “I wish we didn’t have to do this.”
“I know.” Nora’s voice was steady, but something was trembling beneath it. “But if we don’t, he gets you. And if he gets you…”
Her voice trailed off. She didn’t need to finish.
Jessica leaned forward, resting her forehead gently against Nora’s. “We were supposed to grow old and crazy together. Remember?”
“Two weird old ladies with too many cats and a wine fridge we’d pretend was for company.”
They laughed quietly, and then the tears came—not dramatic, not desperate, just slow and real.
“I don’t want to say goodbye,” Jessica said, her voice cracking.
Nora pulled her close. “Then don’t. Just say ‘see you later.’”
“You don’t believe that.”
“No,” Nora admitted, pressing her forehead against Jessica’s again. “But maybe you will.”
The fire popped in the hearth. Outside, the wind stirred through the trees. Time was slipping from them.
Jessica sat back, brushing at her cheeks. “You were always the brave one.”
“I just followed your lead,” Nora said. “You’re the one who kept me grounded when everything else fell apart.”
“I don’t want to be grounded without you.”
“You won’t be,” Nora said. “I’ll be there. In every sarcastic comment, you don’t say out loud. In every stupid road trip you take without a map. In every cat you adopt because you couldn’t leave it behind.”
Jessica laughed through her tears.
“I’ll be there, Jess,” Nora said, softer now. “I promise.”
Jessica held her friend’s hand tighter, like she could anchor her here a little longer.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too,” Nora replied, her voice steady. “Always.”


The cabin was silent save for the soft crackling of the fire and the distant rustle of wind outside. Grant, Jessica, and Nora stood around the journal, each absorbed in their thoughts. The words "a willing sacrifice" hung in the air like a shadow, cast over them all, making each of their movements feel heavier.
After a long moment of silence, Grant cleared his throat, breaking the spell of uneasy quiet. "We have to get started," he said, his voice firm but low, as if trying to convince himself as much as the others. "We don’t have much time before the dark man finds us. We prepare the circle, gather the ingredients, and hope like hell this works."
Jessica nodded, but there was something in her eyes—something far away—as if she was already beginning to wrestle with the weight of what was ahead. She clutched the journal to her chest as though it might provide some comfort, but it felt like a reminder of the burden they all now carried. The words on the page had been a beacon, a guide to a ritual that might end the nightmare—but the price for that end was still unknown.
Nora, who had been largely quiet since the revelation, seemed lost in her thoughts. "What does it mean?" she murmured, mostly to herself. "A willing sacrifice. We can’t just—"
"We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it," Grant interrupted. His voice softened, but there was a note of steel in it, the tone of someone who had made peace with hard choices before. "For now, we focus on the task at hand."
Without another word, the three of them made their way outside to the clearing behind the cabin, the weight of the journal and its terrifying contents still on their shoulders. The air was cooler now, the sun dipping lower behind the trees. It would be night soon. They had to move quickly.
Grant began clearing an area in the center of the clearing, brushing away fallen branches and twigs, making space for the ritual circle. Jessica helped, kneeling down to inspect the ground, smoothing it as best as she could. Nora took the journal from Jessica and began reading aloud the instructions, the words running like a chant through the trees as she worked.
"First, the circle, drawn large enough to contain the spell," Nora read, her voice steady. "It must be precise, no gaps, no breaks."
Grant knelt beside her, pulling a small wooden staff from his bag. He started marking the earth, carving a ring in the dirt, eyes narrowed in concentration as he measured the space with careful precision.
Jessica stood back, her hands resting on her hips, the weight of the pendant around her neck somehow feeling heavier than before. She glanced at the sky, the last of the evening light flickering on the horizon. They were running out of time.
The air had grown thick with anticipation as the three of them continued their work, each of them focused, but a quiet tension rising as the final ingredients of the potion lay waiting. The journal had outlined the herbs, the substances, the rituals—but there was something in the back of Jessica’s mind, a nagging thought that she couldn't shake.
The air around them seemed to hum, charged with something that was more than just the encroaching dark. It was as if the forest itself knew what was about to take place.
"We need to hurry," Grant said, his voice sharper now. "Once the circle’s set, we begin the potion. We have to do this before the dark man arrives."
Jessica nodded. "I know."
Nora set the journal down and turned her attention to the bundle of herbs they’d gathered from town. She began placing them in a small dish, carefully preparing the mixture, following the instructions from the book. Rue, vervain, dragon’s blood resin—each one added in measured amounts. The scent was heady, almost bitter.
She glanced up at Jessica and Grant as she worked, her hands trembling slightly. "Do you really think this will work?" she asked, her voice quiet and filled with uncertainty.
Grant turned to her, his face grim but resolute. "It has to. There’s no other way. We finish this tonight, or we don't survive to see another day."
As they worked, each of them increasingly aware of the weight of the choices before them, the ritual began to take form. The circle was nearly complete, the ingredients for the potion assembled. The air buzzed with a strange energy, and for a moment, it felt as if the woods around them were holding its breath, waiting for what was to come.
And yet, the shadow of "a willing sacrifice" lingered in the back of their minds, a question that none of them could answer just yet.
The night was drawing near. The ritual circle stood ready. All they had left to do was invoke the spell and hope that whatever fate had in store for them, they could survive it. But as the last of the potion was mixed, Jessica couldn’t help but feel that the hardest part was still ahead.




The clearing was silent but for the wind whispering through the trees, rustling the grass like breath over skin. Jessica’s hands trembled as she held the pendant, tears slipping down her cheeks. Across from her, Grant stood tall, his expression grim, steady—the weight of generations behind his eyes. They had memorized the incantation from Evelyn’s journal, studied every step of the ritual. But they both knew it would not be enough without Nora.
Nora stood at the edge of the circle, her face pale but resolute. She had always known this might end with her, that the only way to stop the dark man was through a sacrifice freely given. She had fought beside Jessica, seen the terror in her eyes, heard the whispers that clawed at her mind. If Jessica fell to him, the darkness would not just take her—it would be unleashed on the world.
I was never supposed to be the hero, Nora thought. I was the friend. The one who made jokes. The one who showed up late but always came through in the end. But this time... I come through for good.
She looked at Jessica—her best friend, her anchor—and knew this wasn’t just about saving her. It was for her. For everything they’d shared. For everything they would never get to.
“I’m here,” Nora said, voice low but clear. “Do it before I lose my nerve.”
Jessica swallowed back a sob, nodding. Grant handed Nora the small clay bowl filled with the potion they had prepared—a mixture of herbs, sacred roots, and their mingled blood. The liquid inside was thick, almost black, its scent sharp and earthen.
Nora stared down at it, her hands trembling slightly.
This is going to hurt. It’s going to burn. I’m going to die. But she’ll live. That’s all that matters.
She raised the bowl, took a breath, and whispered—to Jessica more than to anyone else—
“If I only get one brave thing in this life… let it be this.”
Jessica shakes her head, stepping toward her. “No. No, there has to be another way. We can find something else—we always do.”
Nora looks at her, calm despite the storm inside her chest. “Jess, we don’t have time.”
Grant’s jaw clenched, eyes flicking between the pendant and Nora’s trembling hands.
“There has to be another way,” he muttered, but even as he said it, he knew the truth. He'd read the same words. Willing. Not of the blood.
Grant growls, stepping forward. “You don’t get to just throw your life away. We can rewrite the binding, alter the phrasing—hell, maybe there’s something we missed in Evelyn’s journals.”
“You didn’t miss anything. You can’t change anything. I read it too. It has to be someone willing. Someone not of the blood. That’s me.” Nora said.
Jessica starts crying. “You don’t have to be brave, Nora. Not for me. Please…”
Nora looked at both of them, tears in her eyes.. Her voice cracks, just barely. “You both carry the blood. You’re the key. I’m the lock. This is how it ends.”
Before either can speak again, she lifts the potion to her lips and drinks.
The bitter taste hit first, then the heat, spreading down her throat like fire. Her limbs began to shake. She staggered but stayed upright, locking her jaw against the nausea. The ritual had begun.
A heartbeat. Silence. Then the ritual ignites—the pendant glows, the runes burn, and Nora collapses to her knees as the dark man begins to scream from the shadows.
Jessica and Grant joined hands at the center of the circle, their voices rising together, chanting the incantation passed down through the bloodline. The pendant around Jessica’s neck pulsed with light, flickering in sync with the beat of her heart. The air thickened. Cold crept in from the edges of the woods.
And then… he came.
The dark man did not walk into the clearing—he bled into it, shadows oozing from between the trees, a shape without form until he stepped closer. His body writhed like smoke caught in a jar, ever-shifting. Eyes like pits of night opened where no eyes should be. His voice coiled around them like smoke:
“You think you can bind me again? I have learned. I have grown.”
The pressure of his presence was crushing. The ground trembled beneath their feet. The pendant screamed in Jessica’s hand, vibrating with a fury that threatened to tear it apart. But Jessica and Grant did not break. Their chant rose louder.
The dark man lunged forward—and found himself trapped within the circle.
Nora stepped in then, sweat soaking her shirt, her skin glistening under the moonlight. Her pupils were wide, the potion burning through her veins like wildfire. The dark man turned his gaze to her, and for the first time, he paused.
“You,” he hissed. “You would give yourself to this?”
She smiled, faint but unshaken.
“I’d burn the world to keep her safe.”
He lunged. His form collided with hers, and the ritual seized.
Pain wracked Nora’s body as the dark man entered her, tried to take her over. Her scream tore through the trees like a storm. Her veins lit up like fire beneath her skin, her eyes rolled back. Shadows twisted around her like serpents. Jessica cried out, stepping forward, but Grant held her back, tears in his own eyes.
“She has to hold him,” Grant said through gritted teeth. “It’s the only way.”
The air split open as Nora and the dark man tangled, their bodies twisting, writhing together. Light and shadow swirled around them, binding, fusing. The pendant flared, pulling the vortex of energy toward it.
The forest exploded with a deafening roar.
Then—silence.
Smoke drifted over the grass. The circle was scorched, the earth blackened. Nora was gone.
Jessica collapsed to her knees, the pendant still glowing faintly in her palm. Its once-dark surface now dulled, inert. Grant stood over her, hands clenched into fists.
“She did it,” he said, voice raw. “She held him.”
But Jessica couldn’t speak. She could only clutch the pendant to her chest and cry.
Somewhere far beyond, a whisper echoed in the void: I will return.
But not tonight.
The clearing was still smoldering. The air was thick with the scent of burnt grass and ozone, and the silence left in the wake of the ritual pressed down like a weight on Jessica's chest.
She knelt in the scorched earth, her fingers trembling around the now lifeless pendant. It no longer glowed. It didn’t hum or vibrate or feel like it held the power of anything beyond memory. But it was warm from where Nora had once touched it.
Jessica stared at the place where her best friend had stood only moments before—where the shadows had swallowed her, where the light had burst so bright it burned her into the night sky.
Gone.
The word rang through her like a bell, over and over. Gone. Gone. Gone.
Grant stood a few feet away, silent, his shoulders stiff, eyes locked on the charred earth. He had seen a lot in his life—murders, disappearances, the work of monsters—but nothing like this. Nothing felt so personal.
He lowered himself to one knee beside Jessica, his voice rough. “She was brave.”
Jessica nodded, slowly. “She was everything.”
The tears didn’t come in a flood. They came quietly, like rain that had been waiting on the edge of the storm. Her shoulders shook, but she didn’t sob—just let the tears slide down her cheeks, one by one, like she was afraid of waking the forest.
“She said she wasn’t ready,” Jessica whispered. “But she did it anyway.”
Grant’s gaze flicked to the pendant in her hands. “That’s what real courage is.”
Jessica looked up at him then, something steelier beneath the grief in her eyes. “He’s not gone forever.”
Grant didn’t lie to her. He just nodded. “No. But he’s sealed. The world’s safe for now.”
She clenched the pendant tighter. “Then we make sure he stays that way.”
Jessica rose to her feet. Her face was streaked with ash, her clothes torn and stained with the night’s battle. She looked like she’d just crawled out of a war—and in a way, she had.
Her legs felt hollow beneath her, like they might buckle at any second. But she stood anyway, because she had to. Because Nora would’ve.
Her voice was hoarse, but steady. “We find what she gave her life for,” she said. “We make it mean something. We learn everything we can. Because next time...”
She stared at the sky, the stars just beginning to pierce the veil of smoke—quiet, unfeeling. Beautiful, in a way that felt cruel.
“Next time, we end him.”
The silence after those words wasn’t empty. It pulsed with something heavy, something sacred. Like the world itself was holding its breath to honor the vow.
Grant stood beside her, silent for a beat, then placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “For Nora.”
Jessica’s fingers brushed the pendant once more. Her voice barely carried. “For Nora.”
They stood like that for a long time—just the two of them in the ruin of the circle, beneath a sky that looked far too peaceful for what had happened below. The scent of burnt grass still hung in the air, mingled with something softer now… like lavender, or memory.
The wind shifted, stirring the leaves at the forest’s edge. The trees whispered again—gentle this time, like someone breathing goodbye into the dark.
Jessica closed her eyes. Behind her lids, she could still see the light. Still feel the echo of Nora’s presence—the warmth of her laugh, the sharpness of her wit, the way she always stood a little closer when the world felt like it was falling apart.
“She should be here,” Jessica whispered. “Arguing with us. Laughing. Saying something dumb just to break the tension.”
Grant didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His throat was too tight. But he nodded, slowly. Because she was right.
“She was the best of us,” Jessica said, her voice breaking. “And we let her go.”
“No,” Grant said, his voice low. “She didn’t let us go.”
Jessica looked down at the pendant again. The surface had dulled, but it held a weight—like it still remembered what it had done. Who it had loved.
“Do you think she felt it?” Jessica asked. “In the end?”
Grant looked at her. “What?”
“That we loved her. That we were proud of her.”
He hesitated. “I think she felt everything.”
Jessica nodded, and the tears came again, silent and slow. They traced lines down her ash-covered face, carving raw truth across her skin. She didn’t wipe them away.
They were the only thing real right now.
The stars above blinked down, distant and cold. And somewhere beyond them, or maybe inside them, Jessica hoped Nora could see.
“We keep going,” she said. “We fight. But not just to stop him.”
Grant turned to her, brow furrowed. “Then what for?”
Jessica looked toward the trees, her voice steady now, filled with something harder than pain. Something closer to purpose.
“We live. Like she wanted. We live. And when the time comes, we make sure she’s the last one who ever has to do what she did.”
The wind passed again, soft and full of memory. Like a breath. Like a hand brushing her hair.
Jessica’s grip on the pendant tightened, and for just a moment—just a flicker—she thought she heard laughter. Light, familiar. Nora’s.
It faded with the wind.
She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.
They turned toward the forest’s edge, where the path had long since vanished under moss and shadow. But they would walk it anyway. Step by step. Scar by scar. Together.
Behind them, the clearing smoked gently, the circle’s ruins already being claimed by the earth once more. But something lingered in the soil, in the silence, in the scent of lavender and smoke.
Something that would never truly leave.
And in the distance, the wind stirred the trees, soft, like a sigh.