Back home, Chizzy searched the house again. She couldn't shake the man's words.
The land remembers.
In her mother's bedroom, she felt drawn to the wardrobe. She pulled aside old clothes and tapped the wooden panel at the back. Hollow.
She pressed click.
The panel swung open, revealing a hidden room.
Inside was a single candle, burned nearly to the base. A writing desk. And pinned across the wall: symbols. Sketches. Names. Some she recognized villagers. Others were crossed out in thick red ink.
In the center, circled in black: The Hollow Man.
Her mother had been researching him. Hunting him. Or fearing him.
On the desk lay a sealed envelope addressed to Chizzy. She tore it open.
"My darling, if you're reading this, then he's found you. You must not speak his name again not aloud. Not even in thought. The Hollow Man feeds on attention. And blood. You are stronger than me. You must be, or everything will fall."
Chizzy sank into the chair.
Her mother had known. And still, she'd stayed.