The town of Ashvale stood at the northern rim of Balefire Valley, nestled beneath jagged cliffs and veiled in mist. Once a mining settlement, it had decayed into a ghost town over the decades—half its buildings abandoned, the other half housing residents too stubborn or strange to leave. Locals spoke in whispers, always watching the tree line, as though the forest held secrets they dared not repeat aloud.
Kael and Marek arrived before noon, rolling past rusted trucks and shuttered storefronts. A large wooden sign, cracked and leaning, read:
"Welcome to Ashvale — Est. 1873. Stay on the Path."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "Stay on the path?"
Marek grunted. "Old superstition. More truth to it than the locals realize."
As they pulled into the center of town, Kael noticed it immediately: the silence.
It wasn't just quiet—it was wrong. Like the town had gone hollow. Like its soul had been scooped out and left behind.
---
They parked outside a boarded-up church. Marek slung his long coat over his shoulder and grabbed a black leather case from the trunk. Kael followed, dagger hidden in his coat, the weight of it a comfort now.
"What exactly are we doing here?" Kael asked.
"Your mother came here two weeks before she died," Marek said. "According to her notes, she was investigating a series of disappearances. Children. All of them vanished near the Gray Hollow School."
Kael shivered despite himself. "Creepy schools. Great."
Marek nodded toward the east road. "We meet someone first."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
"She calls herself Solana. Used to be a hunter."
"Used to be?"
"She went blind after fighting a shade demon. She sees things differently now."
Kael frowned. "How do you fight demons when you're blind?"
"She doesn't fight anymore," Marek said. "She listens.". Solana lived at the edge of town, in a small stone house with a bell that rang when you stepped through the gate. Crows sat along the fence posts—silent, unmoving.
She met them at the door.
Her eyes were pure white, without pupils, but her head tilted as if she saw more than just shadows. Her skin was dark and weathered, her hair tied in intricate braids with bones and silver beads.
"You brought him," she said without prompting.
Marek bowed slightly. "As promised."
She turned to Kael. "You carry her fire. Elaine's boy."
Kael stiffened. "You knew my mother?"
Solana nodded. "She saved me once. Lost her blade doing it. But she never stopped fighting. Even when her soul began to crack."
That phrase—"soul began to crack"—stuck to Kael like thorns.
"What do you mean?"
Solana didn't answer. Instead, she beckoned him inside. Her home was lined with charms and runes etched into the wood. Candles burned in every room, and the scent of sage and burnt paper hung thick in the air. On a table sat dozens of old dolls, each with a sigil burned into its chest.
"Protection totems," Solana said. "From watchers."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "What are watchers?"
Solana paused.
Then spoke in a whisper.
"Demons who feed not on flesh—but on sight. They mark you. Watch your mind rot from the inside. Make you see things that aren't there. Or worse… make you miss the things that are."
Kael's skin prickled.
"And you think they're in Ashvale?"
Solana walked slowly to a shelf and removed a torn notebook. "I think one of them never left."
She handed it to Kael.
It was his mother's journal.
The entry was dated two weeks before her death:
> "Gray Hollow stinks of old blood. They've hidden the truth here. I found a false wall behind the teacher's quarters. Ritual markings. Smells like smoke and ash. I believe one of the Eyes is beneath the school. Watching. Waiting. I don't know how long I have before it sees me too."
Kael swallowed hard.
Marek scanned the page and nodded. "We need to get inside that school."
Solana's milky eyes narrowed.
"You'll only have until nightfall. After dark, it wakes."
Kael glanced at Marek.
"We go now, right?"
Marek looked at Solana, who handed him a small jar of black sand.
"When you see its eye, scatter this."
Gray Hollow School stood just outside the forest line.
Its windows were boarded up, the yard overgrown, and the swing set creaked in the wind though there was no breeze. The front door hung open slightly, like a mouth mid-whisper.
Kael stepped through first, blade hidden but ready.
The air inside was dry and cold.
They passed rows of overturned desks, broken chalkboards, and old children's drawings stuck to the walls—faded stick figures with too many eyes and mouths. One drawing showed a girl holding hands with a black mass covered in red eyes.
The caption below read:
"My friend in the walls."
Kael shivered.
Marek found the false wall behind a bookshelf in the office. A hidden stairwell descended beneath the school into a forgotten basement.
They lit torches.
The descent was steep and tight. The walls were made of stone, and the air grew damper with each step. Below, the tunnel opened into a circular room carved from the rock itself.
The walls were lined with mirrors.
Hundreds of them—cracked, warped, covered in dust. And in the center, a stone pedestal with a single silver eye carved into it.
Kael stepped forward.
Then—he heard breathing.
Not his.
Not Marek's.
Something else.
He turned toward the mirrors.
And saw a figure.
It stood inside the mirror—tall, robed in black, face covered by a pale, expressionless mask. But beneath the mask, its eye opened.
Kael felt his mind jolt.
Memories flashed before him—his mother screaming, the ceiling cracking, the burning claw. He staggered backward, clutching his head.
"Kael!" Marek shouted. "Look away!"
But he couldn't.
The eye in the mirror grew larger. Closer.
Then he remembered Solana's warning.
He reached into his coat—grabbed the black sand—and threw it at the mirror.
The room shook.
The mirror cracked, and the Eye let out a horrible scream, like glass shattering inside his skull.
The torches flickered—then all went dark.
When light returned, the mirrors were gone.
Only dust and blood remained.
Marek gripped Kael's shoulder.
"You okay?"
Kael nodded weakly. "I saw it. The Eye. It was… it wasn't just seeing me. It was inside me."
Marek's voice turned cold. "Then we have a problem."
Kael stared at him. "What kind of problem?"
Marek sheathed his blade. "Once the Eye sees you, it leaves a mark. You'll start dreaming of things. Things that haven't happened yet. Or things that might. You'll never know which."
Kael's chest tightened. "How do I stop it?"
Marek shook his head.
"You don't. You learn to live with it."
As they climbed out of the tunnel and back into the light, Kael looked up at the clouds.
He felt different again. Like something had been carved out of him and replaced with ice.
They returned to Solana's that night.
She gave him a charm to wear around his neck—small, obsidian, carved like an eye with a cross through it.
"It won't stop the visions," she warned, "but it will keep
the Eye from following you."
Kael put it on.
Marek lit a cigarette as they packed their gear into the truck.
"One down," he said. "A thousand to go."
Kael glanced toward the forest.
The wind howled like laughter.