The shadows recoiled from the door, as
if hesitant to take Margret completely. But Margret stood her ground, her heart
pounding in her chest, her breath visible in the chilling air. The whispers
surrounded her, no longer faint but loud and clear, almost overwhelming in
their demand.
"Margret... stay..."
Behind her, Daniel, his face pale,
struggled to stand. "No, Margret!" His voice cracked with
desperation. "Come back! You can't do this!"
But Margret didn’t move. She could
feel the weight of the town’s ancient curse bearing down on her, demanding her
sacrifice, demanding her surrender. The truth of Black Hollow, the very reason
no one ever left, was wrapped around her like chains.
And yet, something deep within her
refused to accept this fate.
“This isn’t over yet,” she muttered,
her eyes narrowing as she faced the shadows. She looked back at Daniel, her
voice steady but filled with sorrow. “One of us has to stay, Daniel. But maybe…
maybe there’s another way.”
The figures outside the inn flickered,
as though uncertain. Margret felt it in the air—the momentary hesitation. They
didn’t know her mind. Not yet. She still had a choice. If she could play their
game right, perhaps she could buy more time.
She stepped forward, out of the inn,
into the street. The shadows pressed in around her, their cold tendrils
brushing against her skin, their whispers curling around her mind. "You
will not leave..."
The journal in her hand felt heavier,
its words an anchor. There had to be something—some forgotten detail she
missed. Something that could change everything. With shaking hands, she flipped
to the final page, eyes scanning the cryptic text.
There. One sentence stood out, written
in frantic scrawl:
"The Vanishing Hour
can be broken… but only if the town accepts your bargain."
A bargain.
Margret’s mind raced. What did the
town want? What did it want?
Slowly, she closed the journal and
turned toward the center of the street, where the shadows now formed a swirling
mass, dark and impenetrable. “You want me,” she said aloud, her voice cutting
through the air. “You need someone to stay. But you don’t care who, do you?”
The shadows shifted, their whispers
growing louder, as if they sensed her plan.
“If I stay, Daniel goes free,” Margret
continued, her voice hardening. “That’s the bargain.”
Daniel struggled to his feet, his body
trembling with the effort. “No! Margret, don’t do this!” He staggered toward
her, but the shadows blocked his path, holding him back with an invisible
force.
Margret ignored his pleas, her focus
entirely on the entity now. “You’ve taken so many before us, haven’t you? And
you’ll keep taking more unless we stop this.”
The shadows seemed to pulse, growing
darker, heavier. The town itself was reacting. Black Hollow’s secrets were
alive, connected to the very essence of the Vanishing Hour. Margret felt the
weight of countless souls trapped in its grip, lost to time, never able to
escape.
But she wasn’t like them.
“What if…” she whispered, a new
thought crossing her mind. “What if I gave you something more?”
The air thickened, and the whispering
stopped. The town was listening.
Margret took a deep breath, her gaze
steady. “Let us leave. But I’ll give you something you’ve never had before.”
The shadows surged, curious but
cautious. Margret could feel the entity’s confusion, its ancient hunger
wavering. She had its attention now, and she had to make this count.
“I’ll give you me,” she said,
her voice resolute. “Not as your prisoner. Not as your sacrifice. I’ll give you
my life, willingly, if you let Daniel go and never take another soul again.”
Daniel’s eyes widened in horror. “No!
You can’t do this, Margret! You can’t trust them!”
The shadows swirled violently around
her, their presence suffocating, but Margret stood firm. “I’m not trusting
them, Daniel,” she said quietly, turning to face him. “I’m making sure they’ll
never have anyone else. If the town accepts a willing life, then the curse can
be broken.”
Daniel stumbled forward, reaching out
for her, but the shadows held him in place. “There has to be another way!”
“There isn’t,” Margret said softly,
her voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”
Tears filled Daniel’s eyes as he
struggled to reach her. “Please, Margret… don’t do this.”
But Margret knew, deep down, that this
was the only way. The town had never been offered a willing soul before. The
journal had said so. The curse was fueled by fear, by resistance. If she could
end it here, no one else would have to suffer.
She took a step closer to the swirling
mass of darkness, her heart pounding. “Do we have a deal?”
The shadows seemed to still, the cold
air around her pausing in anticipation. For a moment, all was silent.
And then, a voice—not a whisper, but a
clear, deep voice—emerged from the center of the shadows.
“Accepted.”
The word hung in the air, final and
binding. The entity had agreed. Margret felt the weight of the town lift
slightly, as though the curse itself was loosening its grip on her.
But before she could breathe a sigh of
relief, the shadows surged forward, engulfing her completely. Cold seeped into
her bones, and the world around her dissolved into darkness. She couldn’t see,
couldn’t move. The Vanishing Hour had claimed her.
Daniel screamed her name, his voice
echoing through the empty streets, but Margret could no longer hear him.