The night passed in fitful silence, each creak of the decrepit hut setting the group’s nerves on edge. James lay on the cold, uneven floor, his eyes fixated on the warped wooden beams above. Sleep eluded him. Instead, his mind replayed the spider’s chilling words: “Something that doesn’t belong to you.” The shard in his pocket seemed to hum faintly, almost as if it was aware of the looming danger.

Rook’s restless pacing was the only sound, save for the occasional croak of a distant swamp creature. Derrin and the child, whom he had taken to calling “Ember” due to her fiery hair, were huddled in a corner, fast asleep. Vance leaned against a wall, his blade resting across his lap, his eyes half-closed but alert.

James sat up, the tension in the air suffocating. “We’re not safe here, are we?”

Rook stopped pacing, his gaze hard. “Safe? No. We’re deep in a place that’s killed stronger men than us. But we’re alive. That’s what matters.”

The older man’s bluntness didn’t ease James’s nerves. Instead, it drove home the severity of their situation. They were out of their depth, and every step seemed to take them further into a web of danger.

At first light, Rook roused everyone with a sharp nudge or a barked command. “Up. We’re moving.”

The group stirred groggily, their movements slow and hesitant. Ember rubbed her eyes, clinging to Derrin’s arm as the boy helped her to her feet.

“We don’t have the luxury of resting,” Rook said, his voice firm. “Pack up what little we have and get ready to leave. We’ve overstayed our welcome.”

James unfolded the map, his hands trembling slightly. The crude parchment was a mess of winding paths, twisting rivers, and ominous landmarks. A red “X” marked their current location, but the way forward was anything but clear.

“North,” James said after a moment, tracing a route with his finger. “If we keep the river on our right, we should hit higher ground by nightfall. Maybe we’ll find a vantage point.”

“Maybe,” Vance muttered, strapping his sword to his side. “Or maybe we’ll find more of those spiders—or worse.”

“Enough,” Rook interjected, his tone brooking no argument. “We stick to the plan. Eyes open. No straying from the group.”

The swamp greeted them with its usual hostility as they stepped outside. The air was thick and humid, the stench of decay clinging to everything. Fog swirled around their legs, obscuring the uneven ground and forcing them to tread carefully.

The group moved in tense silence, their senses attuned to every sound and shadow. James kept glancing over his shoulder, half-expecting the smaller spider—Arathis—to reappear with its mocking laughter.

“What was its name again?” Derrin asked quietly, breaking the oppressive silence.

“Arathis,” James replied, his voice low. The name felt heavy on his tongue, as if speaking it might summon the creature. “It seemed… different. Like it was playing with us.”

“Playing or planning,” Rook said grimly, scanning the dense foliage. “Either way, we can’t let our guard down.”

Derrin frowned, his gaze distant. “Do you think the shard is what they wanted? The way Arathis spoke, it seemed like they knew about it.”

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James hesitated, his fingers brushing against the pocket where the shard rested. “It’s possible. I don’t know what this thing is or why it’s important, but… yeah, I think it’s connected.”

“Then we need answers,” Vance said, stepping over a gnarled root. “And fast. If they come back, we won’t stand a chance.”

The tension was momentarily broken by Ember, who tugged on Derrin’s sleeve and pointed ahead. “Look!” she said, her voice bright with curiosity.

Through the thinning mist, the faint outline of stone ruins emerged. The structures were ancient, their surfaces cracked and weathered by time. Moss and vines clung to the walls, making them appear like natural extensions of the swamp.

“What is this place?” Derrin asked, his voice tinged with wonder.

“An old settlement, maybe,” Rook said, his tone wary. “Could be dangerous. Stay close.”

As they approached, the ruins revealed their true nature. Strange symbols were etched into the stone, their meanings lost to time but still radiating an unsettling aura.

James ran his fingers over one of the markings, its edges smooth despite the years. “Anyone recognize these?”

“No,” Rook said. “But I’ve seen markings like this before, in places where the Veil feels… thinner. We shouldn’t linger.”

Before anyone could respond, Ember froze, her small hand clutching Derrin’s shirt. “Something’s here,” she whispered.

The ground trembled beneath their feet, and a low, guttural growl echoed through the ruins. The group instinctively drew their weapons, forming a protective circle around the child.

From the shadows of the largest ruin, a figure emerged. It was humanoid but grotesquely distorted, its body covered in patches of chitin and its eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. In its hands was a crude weapon—a jagged blade that seemed more bone than metal.

Behind it, more figures began to appear, each one similarly deformed and armed. They moved with a strange, lurching gait, their eyes fixed on the intruders.

“We’re surrounded,” Vance said, his voice tense.

The lead figure stepped forward, its movements unnervingly smooth. When it spoke, its voice was a rasping whisper: “Outsiders… trespassers…”

“We don’t want trouble,” Rook said, his axe raised defensively. “We’re just passing through.”

The creature tilted its head, its glowing eyes narrowing. Then it let out a low, guttural laugh.

“Passing through? No one passes through the Hollow.”

The other creatures joined in its laughter, a sound that grated on James’s nerves.

“Enough!” James shouted, surprising even himself. “We don’t want to fight. Just let us go, and we’ll leave you alone.”

The lead creature’s laughter ceased abruptly, and it turned its gaze on James.

“Brave… but foolish,” it said. “The Hollow takes what it wants.”

It raised its blade, and the other creatures surged forward.

“Defend yourselves!” Rook bellowed, charging into the fray.

The ruins erupted into chaos. The creatures were faster than they appeared, their jagged weapons striking with brutal force. James swung his club wildly, deflecting a blow that nearly knocked him off balance.

Derrin fought desperately to protect Ember, his dagger flashing as he fended off an attacker. “Stay behind me!” he shouted, his voice strained.

Vance’s sword carved through the creatures with precision, but for every one he felled, another took its place.

James swung his club again, connecting with a creature’s head. It stumbled back, but the effort left him winded.

“We’re outnumbered!” Vance yelled. “We need to retreat!”

“Where?” Rook shouted, his axe cleaving through another attacker.

As the battle raged, the shard in James’s pocket grew cold, sending a sharp chill up his spine. A voice whispered in his mind, faint but insistent: Use it.

He hesitated, the chaos around him fading into the background. The shard pulsed again, its energy calling to him.

“James!” Derrin’s voice snapped him back to reality.

Without thinking, James pulled the shard from his pocket and held it aloft. The air around him seemed to ripple, and a blinding light erupted from the shard, forcing everyone to shield their eyes.

When the light faded, the creatures were gone.

“What… what just happened?” Vance asked, his voice hoarse.

James stared at the shard in his hand, its surface now faintly glowing. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice trembling.

Rook placed a hand on James’s shoulder, his expression grim. “Whatever that thing is, it just saved us. But it’s also painted a target on your back. We need to move. Now.”

The group didn’t argue. As they hurried away from the ruins, James couldn’t help but wonder what kind of power he had just unleashed—and what price he might have to pay for it.