The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine as students gathered near the university parking lot. Excited chatter filled the space, mixing with the low hum of bus engines and the occasional rustling of backpacks.

  I pulled the straps of my bag tighter, my fingers brushing against the outline of the feather safely tucked inside. A strange weight settled in my chest, an unease I couldn’t quite shake.

  Around me, my friends were locked in a heated discussion.

  “Listen, chips are essential,” Addie declared, waving a bag of her favorite snack. “It’s a universal hiking rule.”

  Jade rolled her eyes. “And water? You planning to survive on salt and regret?”

  Irene laughed. “Let her. Maybe she wants to dry out like a raisin halfway up the trail.”

  Their lighthearted banter was a welcome distraction, but my thoughts kept drifting elsewhere. Back to the mansion. Back to the feather.

  A loud voice broke through my thoughts.

  “Do you guys even know where we’re going?”

  I turned my head toward the speaker—Lucas, a guy from the literature department. He had a smirk on his face, the kind that said he knew something we didn’t.

  Some students exchanged glances. Others shrugged.

  Lucas took a step forward, clearly enjoying the attention. “We’re heading straight toward the Hollow Woods.” He paused, letting the name hang in the air. “The one cursed by the monster Veylar.”

  A few students laughed, but there was a shift in the energy around us. Some leaned in, interested. Others looked uneasy.

  “That’s just an old myth,” someone scoffed.

  Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Is it? The legend says that no one who wanders too deep into those woods ever returns. And if you do… you don’t come back the same.”

  A girl shivered. “Okay, you can stop now.”

  I swallowed hard, keeping my face neutral. My pulse pounded against my ribs.

  Veylar.

  The name alone felt like a whisper in my bones, a distant echo of something dark and buried.

  I forced a small smile, pretending not to care. But deep down, I knew the truth.

  This wasn’t just a legend.

  Lucas crossed his arms, clearly enjoying the attention he had gathered. “You guys can laugh all you want, but the stories are real. People who go too far into the Hollow Woods vanish without a trace. And if they do return—” He leaned forward dramatically. “—they’re never the same again.”

  Addie scoffed. “Yeah, yeah, classic horror story. What’s next? A blood moon ritual? A secret society worshiping Veylar?”

  Lucas grinned. “Funny you should mention that.”

  “Oh, please.” Irene rolled her eyes. “You really think we’re buying this?”

  Lucas shrugged. “Believe what you want. But the records show that strange disappearances have been happening for centuries. There’s even an old book that mentions—”

  “That’s quite enough, Lucas.”

  A calm, measured voice cut through the conversation like a blade.

  Ms. Celeste.

  She stood with effortless grace, her expression unreadable, eyes sharp yet composed. Dressed in her usual elegant yet simple attire, she looked more suited to an old library than the middle of a hiking trip.

  “The legend of Veylar is nothing more than an exaggerated folktale,” she said, brushing nonexistent dust off her sleeve. “There is no historical evidence to support these claims. Superstitions thrive in places where truth is lacking.”

  Some students murmured in agreement, reassured by her logical dismissal. Lucas, however, didn’t seem fazed. He simply smirked. “That’s what they want you to think.”

  Ms. Celeste arched an eyebrow but didn’t respond. Instead, she moved past him, taking a seat beside us.

  That’s when I felt it again.

  That same feeling I had the first time I saw her.

  Something was off.

  It wasn’t just her poised demeanor or the way she carried herself—it was something deeper. An unsettling presence that made the air feel too still, too heavy.

  I watched her carefully, every movement, every glance.

  She noticed.

  Ms. Celeste turned her attention to me, her gaze cool and assessing. “Noah, are you alright? You seem... tense.”

  I blinked, quickly regaining my composure.

  “Oh, it’s nothing. Just wondering if Lucas actually believes the nonsense he’s saying.” I forced a smirk and turned to Lucas. “Seriously, Veylar? You expect us to believe that some cursed hunter has been lurking in the woods for centuries?”

  Lucas chuckled. “You don’t have to believe me. But when the sun sets, and the trees start whispering, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  I scoffed, shaking my head. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be sure to leave out a bowl of milk for the forest spirits while I’m at it.”

  Laughter erupted among our group, and Lucas waved a dismissive hand. “Laugh all you want, but let’s see how brave you are when we actually get there.”

  I leaned back in my seat, feigning indifference.

  But inside, I wasn’t laughing.

  Because I knew this wasn’t just a legend.

  And Ms. Celeste?

  There was something about her I couldn’t ignore.

  Lucas, as expected, was still rambling, completely caught up in his own world of myths and wild theories. His voice carried over the murmurs of other students on the bus, drawing in a few curious ears.

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  “And then there’s the lost feather of Veylar,” he declared, pausing for dramatic effect. “A relic of mystery, an object of power. They say it was never meant to be found, but it calls out to people, luring them closer—just like the Hollow Woods itself.”

  A few students groaned at his theatrics, but he paid them no mind.

  “What feather?” Addie leaned in, intrigued despite herself.

  Lucas smirked. “Ah, now you’re interested.” He lowered his voice, as if sharing some forbidden knowledge. “The feather of Veylar, also known as Tenebris Plume—the Feather of Darkness.”

  Irene snorted. “That sounds like something straight out of a fantasy novel.”

  “Maybe it is,” Lucas said with a shrug, “but legend says this feather is no ordinary one. It’s said to be unlike anything in the natural world—completely unique, impossible to ignore.”

  Something about that phrasing made my stomach twist.

  “What do you mean ‘impossible to ignore’?” I asked, pretending to sound indifferent, though my fingers curled slightly against my lap.

  Lucas turned to me with a grin, clearly enjoying the attention. “They say the feather itself demands to be seen. No matter where it is, people feel drawn to it, as if it’s whispering to them, urging them to look closer.”

  A feather that draws people in…

  I forced my face to remain neutral, but my mind had already drifted back to my room—the glass box, the black feather with golden sprinkles, the one I had always felt strangely connected to.

  “That’s ridiculous,” I scoffed, pushing the thought aside. “If no one has actually seen it, how does it even have a reputation?”

  Lucas huffed. “Ugh, you’re such a skeptic.” He crossed his arms. “Look, not everything needs solid proof. Some things you just know—like a gut feeling.”

  I smirked. “Or, in your case, a lack of logic.”

  “Ha-ha,” he said dryly, rolling his eyes. “You don’t believe me, fine. But don’t start poking around for answers later.”

  “I wouldn’t waste my time.”

  Lucas narrowed his eyes playfully. “Then stop asking me questions.”

  I rolled my eyes and smacked him lightly on the head, making him laugh. “Ow! See? This is exactly why I don’t share ancient knowledge with common folk.”

  “Ancient knowledge?” Addie chuckled. “Lucas, you literally read this off some conspiracy blog, didn’t you?”

  “Excuse me!” He put a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “I have sources.”

  Irene shook her head, laughing, while I leaned back against my seat, pretending to be unbothered.

  But deep inside, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling growing in my chest.

  Because the feather Lucas described—the one no one was supposed to recognize, the one that called out to people—sounded disturbingly familiar.

  Lucas was about to launch into another wild theory when a voice cut through the chatter, smooth yet firm.

  “As fascinating as your storytelling is, Lucas, let’s not confuse legend with reality,” Ms. Celeste said, stepping into the conversation effortlessly. Her tone carried the authority of an English professor who had likely read far more myths and historical accounts than any of us.

  The bus quieted slightly as heads turned toward her. Ms. Celeste was not the kind of professor who usually engaged in casual student debates, so the fact that she was joining this one made even the uninterested ones listen.

  “I assume you’re referring to The Cursed Hollow?” she continued, adjusting her glasses. “It’s an old book, one that tells the legend of Veylar Morcant and the Hollow Woods. But let’s be clear—it’s just that: a legend.”

  Lucas scoffed. “A legend based on something, though. Every myth has a root in truth.”

  Ms. Celeste didn’t seem fazed. “Perhaps. But if Veylar Morcant were truly real, do you honestly think people would be living peacefully near the Hollow Woods? There would be reports, evidence—something more than eerie campfire stories.”

  A few students nodded in agreement, while others still clung to the excitement of the myth.

  Ms. Celeste sighed. “And as for this ‘feather’ you’re so intrigued by, yes, there are accounts of it. Some old texts refer to an artifact said to belong to Veylar, something unique and impossible to ignore. But all of it remains ancient theory—ideas passed down with no real proof.”

  I watched her carefully as she spoke, but something about the way she dismissed the legend made me uneasy. She wasn’t just saying it wasn’t real—she was too certain about it.

  And that feeling returned—the same one I had when I first saw her in class after her supposed long absence. That unsettling sensation, like a whisper in the back of my mind telling me something wasn’t right.

  I narrowed my eyes, studying her as subtly as I could. She had always been an elegant woman, her every movement precise, but there was something calculated about the way she spoke. As if she was choosing her words too carefully.

  Ms. Celeste took a seat near us, her gaze sweeping over the group before settling on me. “Noah, you look tense. I hope Lucas’ nonsense isn’t getting to you.”

  I blinked, realizing I had been staring too long. Quickly, I forced a small chuckle, regaining my usual posture. “Oh, please. If I believed even half of what he said, I’d have lost my mind by now.”

  Lucas gasped dramatically. “Wow. Rude.”

  The group laughed, and I used the moment to mask my unease.

  Because, while I had brushed it off with a joke, the truth was far different.

  I did believe in some of it.

  And something about Ms. Celeste’s reaction only made me want to dig deeper.

  After a long journey filled with chatter, teasing, and the occasional nap, we finally arrived at Ravencreek, a secluded yet picturesque location nestled near the infamous Hollow Woods. The place was perfect for camping—lush greenery stretched in every direction, and the fresh, crisp air was a welcome contrast to the stuffy bus ride.

  The cottages assigned to us were simple but cozy, lined up in a neat row against the backdrop of towering trees. In the distance, I could hear the faint rush of a river weaving through the landscape. It was the kind of place that looked straight out of a nature magazine—peaceful, serene… yet hiding something beneath its beauty.

  As we unloaded our bags, some students excitedly talked about hiking routes and campfire plans. But my eyes were drawn to a lone wooden board near our cottages. The bold, red letters stood out against the weathered wood:

  RESTRICTED AREA. BEWARE OF WILD ANIMALS. DO NOT CROSS.

  The narrow path beyond the sign stretched into the dense thicket, its entrance shadowed by twisted, gnarled branches. I didn’t need a map to know where it led.

  Hollow Woods.

  “Guys, look!” Lucas chimed in, pointing dramatically at the sign. “That path leads straight into Hollow Woods.”

  Some students gasped, shifting uneasily. A few exchanged nervous glances, stepping further away from the sign as if merely acknowledging it would invite trouble.

  “Oh, hell no,” Irene muttered, eyeing the pathway with suspicion. “I am not getting dragged into some horror movie nonsense.”

  Jade nodded. “No one’s stupid enough to actually go there, right?”

  I remained silent, staring down the darkened path as a strange familiarity settled in my chest. It was unsettling, yet… unsurprising. Almost as if I had expected this.

  Lucas, ever the instigator, grinned. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a forest. I bet all those ‘cursed woods’ stories are just made up to scare people.”

  “Then why don’t you go take a stroll down there?” Addie challenged, crossing her arms.

  Lucas immediately backtracked. “I would, but, you know… I don’t wanna ruin the trip for everyone.”

  I rolled my eyes as the group continued their debate. Fear was settling into most of them, but not me.

  I had already experienced things far scarier than a warning sign.

  Everyone gathered at the entrance of the campsite, grabbing their tent necessities and preparing for the night ahead. Laughter and chatter filled the air, blending with the rustling of leaves and the occasional snap of twigs under hurried footsteps. The excitement was contagious, and for a while, I let myself sink into the moment, engaging in playful banter with my friends.

  But then, it started.

  A whisper. Soft, distant—so faint that I almost mistook it for the wind.

  Then another.

  The voices from my nightmares.

  My breath hitched, my chest tightening as the whispers wove through the air, smooth and hypnotic, pulling me into a dizzying haze. The world around me blurred at the edges, my limbs growing heavier with each passing second. My heartbeat drummed in my ears, erratic and unsteady.

  No… not now.

  I reached out blindly, my fingers locking onto Addie’s wrist. My grip tightened, nails digging into her skin as the whispers turned into murmurs, growing louder, clearer—until they weren’t whispers anymore, but a chorus of tormented voices.

  My breath quickened.

  The world dimmed.

  I clenched my eyes shut, the weight of the voices pressing against my skull. My heartbeat pounded, my lungs struggling to pull in air. Then, in the midst of the suffocating void, a feral, bloodcurdling scream ripped through my mind.

  I gasped, the sound jolting me back to reality.

  Everything snapped into focus—the cold air against my skin, the distant crackling of firewood, the sharp sting of Addie’s pained cry.

  I looked down, horrified.

  Addie’s wrist was red and raw, tiny beads of blood forming where my nails had dug too deep. Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears, her lips parted as she tried to steady her breathing.

  “Addie—” My voice cracked as guilt settled deep in my stomach. “I— I’m so sorry—”

  She wiped at her tears with her free hand, forcing a wobbly smile. “Damn, Noah. If I had been kneeling to tie my shoes, you probably would’ve broken my neck.”

  Her words were teasing, meant to lighten the mood, but the underlying concern in her gaze didn’t go unnoticed. Neither did the way she subtly flexed her fingers, testing for any real damage.

  I swallowed hard, trying to shake off the lingering haze in my mind.

  I had no idea what just happened, but I knew one thing for sure.

  The voices…

  They were getting stronger.