The Sterling Hollow

Every breath kicked up a tiny whirlwind of dust occasionally depositing debris in his eye. Every muscle fiber in his arm screamed for mercy but their cries fell upon deaf ears. He white knuckled the edge of the altar. The palm of his hand rubbed raw from the constant tugging against the raw stone.  His shout nearly drowned in the whaling of the void. The tears that rolled down his face were neatly plucked from his face and driven into the mistake they had made. Her fingernails dug into his flesh. She didn’t have to strength to climb, only hold on. She knew he would hold on till the last of his strength ebbed from his body. This was only a delay of the inevitable. The pull was too fierce. Already the void was stealing bits of her, atom by atom, like she was a sandcastle in heavy wind. Her tears too flew from her face in gentle rivulets into the unknown. They caused this. Their grief, their pain, their sorrow brought them to this place. They were warned but did not listen. The need was too great. They wanted him back, their boy, their sweet, sweet boy.

This place was special once. Power flowed through here but long ago was corrupted. Forbidden magic like they were doing tainted this place. It attracted things without soul or mercy. They offered their blood and pieces of their souls to be reunited with their boy. That is the piece but over time The Sterling Hollow became greedy and demanded more. Even the forest itself seemed to retreat from this place. Still they came and they offered. The Hollow responded by opening a hole in the world, a maw into nothingness and they were swallowed.