The forest whispered secrets in a language only the cursed could hear. Callum stirred in his sleep, drenched in sweat, his breath shallow. His body trembled with a chill not born of cold but of something older, darker a shadow etched into his very soul.
He dreamed.
But this was no ordinary dream. It was a vision wrapped in fog and blood. Rhea's voice called out to him, distant and fragmented, like a broken melody on the wind. Her hands reached for him, covered in soot, trembling. He tried to move toward her, but roots coiled around his ankles, dragging him into the earth.
Then came the eyes. Glowing red orbs peered at him from the shadows, full of hate and hunger. A wolf, larger than any beast he had ever seen, emerged from the darkness. Its fur was black as pitch, matted with blood, and its mouth was split into a grotesque grin. Behind it, a figure cloaked in ash and bone whispered ancient words that cracked the air like thunder.
"The Hollow Star wakes."
Callum shot upright, heart hammering, lungs gasping for air. His hands trembled as he ran them through his damp hair. The scent of burning leaves still lingered in his nostrils.
"Another dream?" Rhea's voice was soft but wary. She sat near the window, her figure cloaked in moonlight.
He nodded. "Worse than before."
She approached and knelt beside him, brushing a thumb over his cheek. "Was it the same figure?"
"Yes," Callum whispered. "And the wolf. It's always watching. Waiting."
Rhea closed her eyes. She had hoped the visions would stop now that Callum had begun to remember fragments of his past. But instead, they were growing stronger, more violent.
"We need to speak to the Seer," she said. "Before this becomes something we can't control."
---
By dawn, the pack had gathered. Rhea and Callum stood before the council elders in the great hall, their faces grim. A hush fell over the room as Callum recounted the vision in detail.
Elder Thalos, the oldest among them, leaned forward, his blind eyes unblinking. "The Hollow Star," he murmured. "That name has not been uttered since the Days of Flame."
Murmurs filled the hall.
"What does it mean?" Rhea asked.
Thalos turned his face toward her. "It is the harbinger of awakening. A symbol of the veil between life and death thinning. If it truly stirs again, the Forgotten Vale will bleed its curse back into our world."
Callum's jaw clenched. "And the wolf? The one I keep seeing?"
"It is no beast," Thalos said, voice heavy with warning. "It is a spirit bound to the ancient power of the Vale. Once, it was our guardian. But when the Hollow Star first cracked, it was twisted. Corrupted."
The pack shifted uneasily.
"So what do we do?" one of the younger warriors asked.
Thalos tapped his staff on the floor. "You must journey to the Seer. Only she can guide you through dreams that bleed into reality."
---
The forest grew darker the deeper they traveled. Trees loomed like sentinels, their branches clawing at the sky. The light faded quickly, replaced by a haunting twilight that refused to brighten.
Callum rode ahead, Rhea at his side. Neither spoke much. The silence between them wasn't cold, but filled with unspoken tension shared fear, maybe even a deeper bond forged by the unknown.
That night, they made camp near the Wailing Brook, where the river sang a mournful tune. Callum couldn't sleep. The dream still clung to him like a second skin.
"You're thinking about her, aren't you?" Rhea asked as she joined him by the fire.
He nodded. "The Seer. Lysandra."
Rhea tilted her head. "You remember her?"
"Bits. She once guided me when I was a boy. Before the war. She told me my fate was bound by fire and loss."
Rhea wrapped her arms around herself. "She was right."
Callum turned toward her, his expression softening. "But she also said I'd find my light in the dark. I didn't know what she meant. Until I met you."
Rhea blinked, startled. Emotions warred behind her eyes, but she said nothing. She only moved closer, letting their shoulders touch.
---
The next morning, the path opened into a hollow glade, shrouded in mist. Runes glowed faintly on the stones that ringed a small pool. And in its center, seated atop a boulder covered in moss, was Lysandra.
The Seer had aged, yet her presence remained timeless. Her eyes, glowing silver, met Callum's.
"You dream of the Hollow Star," she said without preamble.
Callum bowed slightly. "We need answers."
Lysandra's gaze drifted to Rhea. "And you carry more than questions."
Rhea's hand unconsciously moved to her belly.
Lysandra smiled faintly. "The child is a beacon. The Vale knows. That is why it stirs."
"What must we do?" Callum asked.
The Seer's eyes dimmed, voice turning grave. "The dreams are warnings. Portents. If you do not reclaim your bond fully, the shadow will consume you both. The Hollow Star does not sleep. It feeds."
Rhea frowned. "Reclaim our bond?"
Lysandra pointed toward the northern ridge. "Beyond that hill lies the Forest of Echoes. You must enter together, heart bound to heart, and face the truth you buried. Only then can the dreams be tamed."
Callum reached for Rhea's hand. She hesitated, then took it.
"What awaits us there?" he asked.
Lysandra's eyes sparkled with something between sorrow and awe.
"Your past. And the key to your future."
As they turned to leave, the wind picked up, howling through the trees. The shadows seemed to shift, moving with purpose. Far behind them, Lysandra whispered into the mist.
"May the light find you before the darkness does."
That night, Callum dreamt again.
But this time, Rhea was beside him.
And the forest listened.