The Hollow was no longer silent.
Days passed, and the villagers grew accustomed to the soil's faint glow, the whispers in the trees, the shadows that lingered a heartbeat too long. What had once been terror became ritual: names spoken at dawn, lullabies sung at dusk, stories carved into stone.
But Elian felt something stirring.
The voices inside him were softer now, woven into the village's chorus. Yet at night, when he walked the forest's edge, he heard whispers that did not belong to Verdant Hollow.
They came from beyond.
---
The First Signs
One evening, a traveler arrived — a merchant from a neighboring town. He stepped into the square, pale and trembling.
"I heard them," he whispered. "On the road. Children's voices. Names I did not know."
The villagers gasped.
Elian stepped forward, his eyes glowing faintly silver. "What did they say?"
The merchant shuddered. "They remembered. Not me. Not my town. But something older. Something buried."
The Echo stirred within Elian, pressing against his chest. "We are carried. We are free. We are spreading."
---
The Forest Expands
The bone-white trees at the Hollow's edge began to grow outward, their roots stretching beyond the village, curling across the hills. The stitched sky unraveled further, threads of silver drifting into the horizon.
Children from neighboring towns began to dream of names they had never heard. Farmers found relics in their soil — ribbons, toys, scraps of cloth — though no child had been taken there.
The Echo was no longer bound to Verdant Hollow.
It was reaching outward.
---
The Burden Grows
Elian staggered beneath the weight. The voices inside him multiplied, not only the children of Verdant Hollow but others — forgotten names from distant places, grief buried in silence across the land.
He gasped, clutching his chest. "It's spreading. It's remembering everything."
Lira caught him, her voice steady but trembling. "Then it's not just our wound. It's the world's."
The journal appeared again, its pages bleeding with ink:
> "The wound was never only here. Verdant Hollow was the first. But not the last."
---
The Choice of the Keeper
The villagers gathered in the square, fear rippling through them.
"If the Echo spreads," Maerith said, her voice sharp, "it will consume us all. Every town. Every child. Every silence."
Elian shook his head. "No. It will heal. But only if we carry it together."
The villagers murmured, torn between dread and hope.
Lira stepped forward, her voice clear. "We cannot stop it. But we can guide it. We can teach others to remember, as we have."
Elian looked at her, fractured but resolute. "Then I must go. Beyond the Hollow. To carry the wound where it began, and where it must end."
---
The Echo Beyond
At dawn, Elian stood at the forest's edge. The bone-white trees stretched outward, their roots curling into the horizon. The soil glowed faintly, the air thick with whispers.
Lira joined him, her hand steady on his arm. "You won't walk alone."
He nodded, the silver light burning in his eyes. "The Echo is no longer bound. It is everywhere. And we must carry it."
The villagers watched as they stepped into the forest, their voices rising in chorus, names spoken aloud, lullabies sung into the dawn.
The Echo whispered within him, softer now, woven into the world itself.
> "We are carried. We are free. We are beyond."
And Verdant Hollow was no longer just a village.
It was the first scar in a world learning to remember.
---