They painted his door before dawn.
Ash, and blood smeared in a crooked circle. No word. No warning. Just the bloody mark.
Corin stood in the cold, watching it dry. His parents had left him here a long time ago, and he still remembers their words, "you're a monster."
Thirteen years old. Chosen.
The village called it an honor, A sacred pact. Every decade, one child is given to the Hollow. To keep the curse at bay. To keep the crops from rotting, the wells from souring, the shadows from creeping too close.
Corin didn't believe in monsters. He believed in silence. In the way his name stopped conversations. In the way his friends didn't meet his eyes. In the way the forest watched.
The Hollowroot woods had always been forbidden. Twisted trees. Whispering winds. A spirit that devoured the chosen whole. That's what they said.
But Corin had questions. And no one left to ask.
That night, while the village gathered at the edge of the woods—torches lit, prayers muttered—Corin ran.
No one saw him slip through the back gate. No one heard his footsteps vanish into the trees. No one followed.
The forest swallowed him.
And somewhere deep in the Hollow, something woke.