In the dim light of a dying sun, the forest closed in around me, taller and darker than I had ever seen it. I’d been lost for hours, maybe more, but the strange allure of these woods had drawn me further and further from the familiar paths.

The deep hum of life here was unsettling, as though the trees were breathing, whispering. They stood like sentinels, their branches tangled overhead in a dense canopy that blocked out even the feeble light of the late afternoon sun.

I wasn't supposed to be here.

I knew that the moment I lost sight of the old markers that usually led me back home. But turning back wasn’t an option anymore. It was as though the forest itself had rearranged, cutting me off from the paths I knew.

The deeper I ventured, the more foreign everything became. The trees looked older here---ancient, with gnarled roots that broke through the ground like bones through skin. The air had a strange thickness to it, a weight that pressed against my chest and made it hard to breathe.

I kept walking, even though every instinct told me to stop. There was something out here, just out of sight, pulling me forward. The wind had picked up, but it wasn't cold.

It felt warm, too warm, and carried a strange smell---like something burning, but also wet earth and decay. There were no birds, no rustling of small animals, just the sound of my boots crunching over fallen leaves.

Every now and then, I'd hear a branch snap, and I'd freeze, straining to listen. But it was always nothing. Just the wind, I told myself. Just the forest.

But I knew I wasn't alone.

The forest had eyes.

I could feel them.

Watching.

Waiting.

It wasn't until the light had all but faded that I realized how far I had gone. The trees pressed in closer, their blackened bark like the charred remains of some long-dead fire.

Shadows lengthened, reaching out with clawed fingers, and the sky above turned a deep bruised purple. Panic clawed at my chest. I should have turned back hours ago. But now, the way out was gone. The trees behind me seemed to close ranks, and no matter how far I walked, I felt as though I was circling back to the same spot.

I stopped in a small clearing, panting from exertion and fear. My legs burned from walking, and my throat was dry. My heart pounded in my ears, and I could hear my own ragged breaths.

Something was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

I wasn't in the same woods I had known my whole life. This place was different. It felt ancient, hostile. The silence wasn't peaceful; it was oppressive, heavy. Even the air seemed to hum with a deep, low energy that prickled at the back of my neck.

A flicker of movement caught my eye. I turned, heart leaping into my throat, but there was nothing. Just the trees, their long shadows stretching out like the skeletal hands of giants.

The ground beneath my feet was uneven, cracked, as though the earth itself was rotting from within. My hands trembled as I reached for my phone, praying that I could at least get a signal out here. But the screen was dead, a black void reflecting my own wide-eyed face.

That's when I heard it. A sound, faint but distinct, like the softest murmur of voices carried on the wind. It sent a shiver down my spine. I turned slowly, scanning the trees, but there was nothing.

No one.

The air was thick with anticipation, as though the forest itself was holding its breath.

"Who's there?" I called out, my voice cracking in the silence.

No answer. Just that same low murmur, too faint to make out words, but close enough that I knew I wasn't imagining it.

I stumbled forward, following the sound, each step heavier than the last. It was as if the very ground resisted my movement, like wading through thick mud.

The trees parted ahead of me, revealing a wide, open space, bathed in an eerie, otherworldly light. The clearing was vast, far larger than it had any right to be, with the ground sloping downward into a hollow. The trees here were different---blackened, twisted, and skeletal, their branches reaching skyward like the hands of the damned.

And in the center of the hollow, standing perfectly still, was a figure.

At first, I thought it was a trick of the light, a shadow cast by the gnarled trees. But as I squinted, I could see it was real.

The figure stood tall, with a humanoid shape, but its limbs were too long, too thin, and its head was cocked at an unnatural angle. Its skin was pale---almost translucent---and its eyes … God, its eyes. They were hollow, deep black pits that seemed to suck in the light around them.

I froze, unable to move, as the creature turned its head slowly to face me. A wave of nausea rolled through my gut. There was something terribly wrong with the way it moved, its body jerking like a puppet on broken strings.

"You are not from here," it said, its voice low and raspy, like the rustling of dead leaves. The words echoed unnaturally, as though the air itself vibrated with their sound.

My mouth went dry. I wanted to run, but my feet wouldn't move. "W-what are you?" I managed to choke out.

The creature took a step toward me, its long, bony fingers curling at its sides. "We are the Hollow. The Exiled."

I stumbled back, tripping over a root and falling hard onto the ground. The Hollow loomed over me, its hollow eyes boring into mine.

There was no life in those eyes---only an empty, yawning void.

"Exiled?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

The Hollow nodded slowly, its head jerking unnaturally with the motion. "Long ago, we lived as you do. On the earth, in the light. But your kind cast us out. Banished us to this place---a world of shadows and sorrow. And here we have remained, forgotten, forsaken."

A cold dread crept over me, settling deep in my bones. "I don't understand. I didn't do anything. I'm not part of … I didn't exile anyone."

The Hollow tilted its head, as if considering my words. "It does not matter. You are human. And for that, you are guilty."

Before I could respond, the creature knelt beside me, its skeletal fingers reaching out to touch my arm. A sharp, searing pain shot through me at the contact, like ice and fire all at once. I gasped, jerking my arm away, but the pain lingered, a deep, aching burn.

"You feel it, don't you?" the Hollow whispered. "The weight of our sorrow. The burden of our exile."

I clutched my arm, trying to shake off the cold that was spreading through my veins.

"Why … why me?" I stammered. "Why now?"

"You wandered too far," the Hollow said, standing once again. "You crossed the threshold between worlds. Now, you are here. And here you will stay, as we have."

"No!" I scrambled to my feet, my heart pounding in my chest. "There has to be a way back. There has to be---"

"There is no way back," the Hollow interrupted, its voice hard now. "The world you knew is gone. You belong to the Hollow now."

I shook my head, panic rising in my throat. "I can't stay here. I have to get home."

The Hollow watched me with those empty eyes, silent for a long moment. Then it spoke, its voice barely more than a whisper. "There is only one way to leave."

I swallowed hard, dread pooling in my stomach. "What way?"

The creature's thin lips twisted into a grotesque approximation of a smile. "You must take our place. Become as we are. Only then can you walk between worlds."

I felt the blood drain from my face. "No," I whispered. "I can't … I won't .…"

The Hollow reached out, its fingers grazing my skin once more, and the cold seared through me again. This time, it didn't fade. It spreads, crawling up my arm, into my chest, wrapping around my heart like icy tendrils.

"You will," the Hollow whispered. "In time, you will."

I stumbled back, gasping for breath as the cold tightened its grip. My vision blurred, the edges of the world fading into darkness. I could feel it now, the sorrow, the weight of centuries pressing down on me, suffocating me.

This place---this Hollow---it was more than a world.

It was a prison.

A tomb.

And I was trapped here, just as they were. Just as they had been for so long.

The Hollow stepped back, its smile fading into the same empty expression as before. "You will understand soon enough. We all do, in the end."

The ground beneath me shifted, and I fell to my knees, the cold sinking into my bones. The world around me blurred, the trees fading into black silhouettes against a darkening sky. The Hollow’s voice echoed in my ears, a low, mournful whisper.

"You are one of us now."

As the darkness swallowed me whole, I realized that the Hollow had been right all along. There was no way back.

No escape.

Only sorrow.

Only exile.

And in that moment, I knew that I was truly lost.

***

The days---if they could still be called days---passed in a blur. Time had lost its meaning in this place; this Hollow. There was no sun to rise or set, only an eternal twilight that hung over everything like a shroud.

The forest was still and silent, save for the occasional murmur of wind through the skeletal trees and the soft rustle of unseen creatures moving just out of sight.

I wandered aimlessly, searching for any sign of an escape, any way back to the world I knew. But the forest was vast, endless, and every path I took seemed to loop back on itself. It was as though the Hollow itself was alive, shifting and twisting, keeping me trapped in its suffocating embrace.

The creatures---the Hollow---watched me from the shadows. They were always there, lurking at the edge of my vision, just beyond the reach of the dim light.

They never spoke to me again, but I could feel their presence, could feel their sorrow pressing down on me like a weight I could not shake. Their eyes---those hollow, empty pits---followed me wherever I went, a constant reminder of the fate that awaited me.

At first, I fought it.

I refused to give in to the despair that gnawed at my mind, clinging to the hope that there had to be a way out, that somehow, I could escape this place. But as the days stretched into weeks, and the weeks into months---or was it years?---that hope began to fade.

The coldness that the Hollow had inflicted upon me never left. It was always there, a deep, aching chill that settled in my bones and spread through my veins.

At times, it felt as though my very heart had turned to ice, and no matter how hard I tried to fight it, I could feel it changing me.

I wasn't alone in the Hollow---not truly. I saw others sometimes, other humans like me, wandering through the twisted woods with the same lost, desperate look in their eyes.

Some of them were new, freshly trapped in this place like I had been, still clinging to the hope that they could find a way out.

Others ….

Others had been here far longer. Their faces were pale and gaunt, their eyes dull and empty, the light of life slowly draining from them as the Hollow claimed them piece by piece.

We never spoke to each other. There were no words left in this place, only silence and sorrow. Even when we crossed paths, we simply looked at each other and kept walking, as though acknowledging each other's existence would somehow make the hopelessness of our situation more real.

The creatures---the Hollow---were always near, though I never saw them up close again. I would catch glimpses of them in the corner of my vision, moving among the trees with their unnatural, jerking movements.

Their presence was a constant reminder of what I was becoming.

What we were all becoming.

For it was inevitable, wasn't it?

I could feel it happening, slowly but surely. The cold was spreading, deeper and deeper into my soul. My thoughts grew sluggish, my memories of the world I had left behind slipping away like sand through my fingers.

Faces blurred, voices faded. Even the memory of my own name grew distant, as though it belonged to someone else, someone I had once been but no longer recognized.

I didn't want to believe it.

I fought it, even as the ice crept through my veins and my heart grew heavy with the weight of the Hollow's sorrow. But it was useless. This place---this prison---it was changing me, remaking me in its own image.

I was becoming one of them.

One day, I stopped walking. I didn't know how long I had been wandering, but something in me broke. I stood in the middle of the twisted forest, my breath misting in the cold air, and I realized that I could no longer remember why I had been trying to escape in the first place.

What was there to return to?

What was the point of fighting, when the Hollow was all I had left?

The sorrow that had hung over me like a cloud settled deep into my bones, and I sank to my knees, the cold seeping into the ground beneath me. I felt the weight of the years, the centuries, pressing down on me, and I knew that I had lost.

There was no going back.

There never had been.

The Hollow was inside me now.

I don't know how long I sat there, kneeling in the dirt, the shadows closing in around me. But eventually, I felt a presence at my side. I didn't look up. I didn't need to. I knew it was one of them---one of the Hollow.

"Do you understand now?" the voice whispered, soft and cold.

I nodded, the last flicker of resistance fading from my mind. "Yes," I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath.

The Hollow crouched beside me, its long, bony fingers reaching out to touch my shoulder. The cold that spread from its touch was familiar now, no longer painful but comforting in its numbness.

"You are one of us," it said.

I closed my eyes, the last of my human thoughts slipping away like smoke on the wind. The weight of the sorrow lifted, replaced by something deeper, something older.

I no longer felt the need to resist.

I no longer felt anything at all.

When I opened my eyes again, the world had changed. The forest was the same, dark and twisted, but it no longer felt oppressive.

It no longer felt like a prison.

It felt like home.

I stood, my movements slow and jerking, like a puppet on strings. My skin was pale, translucent, and my limbs felt too long, too thin. I reached up to touch my face and felt the hollow, empty pits where my eyes had once been.

I am one of them now.

The Hollow surrounded me, silent and still, their hollow eyes watching as I took my place among them. I no longer feared them. I no longer feared anything. The sorrow was no longer a burden; it was a part of me, as much a part of me as the cold and the shadows.

We stood together in the forest, silent and eternal, watching as the world turned and the seasons changed. Time had no meaning here, not anymore.

We are the Hollow, the Exiled, and we would remain here, forgotten and forsaken, until the end of all things.

And perhaps, someday, another wanderer would lose their way in the woods. Perhaps they too would stumble into the Hollow, drawn by the same strange, sorrowful pull that had brought me here.

And when they did, we would be waiting.

We always would be.

***

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