Corren awoke with a sharp breath, chest heaving like he'd just surfaced from deep water.
His room was still cloaked in early morning shadow, the edges of the furniture softened by dim light. The ceiling loomed blank above him, pale and unfamiliar. For a moment he didn't recognize it. His own home felt distant, like he was looking at it through smoked glass.
He sat up slowly. His hands were cold.
The dream had already begun to dissolve, but pieces of it clung to him like wet cobwebs. A dim hallway stretched into the dark, torches flickering low against endless stone. He didn't remember walking through it, but the feeling was still there. Like he had. Like something had followed.
He rested his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands. The hum was gone, but in his ears lingered a dull ringing, like something had spoken just as he woke. His pulse wouldn't calm.
"What was that," he whispered to no one.
He took longer than usual to dress. His movements were slow and heavy, each piece of clothing a small weight he had to force onto himself. He didn't eat. Didn't feel like he could. The thought of being alone in that house much longer turned his stomach. He needed air, needed motion. Needed someone to talk to.
The rain had passed sometime in the night, and the sky outside was gray and sullen. Pools of water still clung to the cobblestones, reflecting pale light as Corren made his way down the narrow path leading toward the hill.
Elda's cottage was tucked beside a grove of wind bent trees, its windows warm with flickering candlelight. He reached the door and knocked twice, then once more without thinking.
A few seconds passed before Elda opened it.
"You alright?" she asked.
He hesitated, then nodded. "Can I come in?"
Inside smelled faintly of wood smoke and herbs. She gestured toward the table and poured him a cup of something hot without asking. He sat in silence for a moment, fingers curled around the warmth of the mug.
"I had a dream," he said. "Not really a dream. More like a place. A hallway made of stone. I wasn't walking, but it felt like I was there. Something was behind me."
Elda sat down across from him, her expression quiet and serious.
He continued. "It felt like the same thing. Whatever's tied to that skull. I thought giving it to Rallin would stop all this, but it's still there. I woke up with the sound of it in my head."
Elda watched him for a while. "You think it's trying to reach you again?"
"I don't know. Maybe it never stopped. Maybe I just convinced myself it had."
They sat in silence for a time. Her gaze drifted toward the hearth. "You don't look well," she said finally. "When was the last time you slept properly?"
"Before the skull. Everything's been... different since then."
She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms loosely. "Whatever this is, you shouldn't carry it alone. If it's reaching into your dreams, then maybe it's not done with you."
"I don't want it to be done with me," Corren muttered, then caught himself. "I mean... I don't want to deal with it anymore. I gave it to someone smarter. Someone who could do something about it."
Elda looked at him closely. "You think Rallin will solve it for you?"
"I don't know. I just thought handing it off would put distance between us. But maybe that's not how this works."
She didn't respond right away. Instead she stood, moved toward the shelf, and busied herself with a few small jars, not looking at him.
Corren stood up out of his chair. "Thanks for the tea. I just needed to talk to someone."
She nodded. "Come by again, if it gets worse."
He stepped outside into the cool morning. The wind had picked up again, and the clouds above looked heavier than they had an hour before.
Corren walked the winding path back toward his home. The air was cool, the sky thick with unmoving clouds. Elda's concern still lingered in his thoughts, and the memory of the dream had refused to fade. Each step felt heavier than the last.
As he reached his porch, something caught his eye. A letter rested just outside his door, set carefully as if placed with intent. He picked it up and immediately recognized the seal pressed into the wax, Brother Rallin's mark. His name was written on the front in careful script.
He opened it and read the short note inside:
"Come soon. I've found something. Bring no one."
There was no greeting, no explanation. The message was abrupt and cold. Corren didn't even step inside his home. He turned around and headed straight for the chapel.
The chapel stood in quiet stillness, its narrow windows casting pale light across the wooden pews. The silence inside was deeper than usual, the kind that seemed to press inward from every direction.
Corren stepped through the doorway and saw Rallin near the altar, standing still with his back to him.
"I came as soon as I got your note," Corren said.
Rallin turned slowly. He looked tired. like something had been draining him day by day. His face was paler than usual, and there was a tremor in his hands he didn't bother hiding.
"You shouldn't have taken so long," Rallin said softly. "But I'm glad you came."
Corren stepped closer. "What's going on? You said you found something."
Rallin nodded faintly. "Not something new. Just… something I hadn't understood before. The skull… it's not what I thought it was."
There was a long pause.
"It doesn't speak. It remembers. It shows things. Not always clearly. Not always to the person holding it." His eyes shifted. "But they linger. In dreams, in thoughts. Quietly."
Corren swallowed hard, unsettled. "What does it want?"
"I think it wants to be whole again. Whatever it was, it isn't finished. And it was buried deep for a reason. Forgotten on purpose."
He looked away then, down toward the stone floor beneath his feet.
Corren hesitated. "Do you think it's dangerous?"
"I think it's old," Rallin answered. "Too old. Things like this… they outlive the stories meant to warn us about them."
Corren glanced at the empty pews, at the stained glass above. The weight of the chapel seemed to shift around him.
"I should go," he said after a moment.
Rallin didn't argue. He simply nodded.
As Corren turned to leave, Rallin spoke again.
"You've been having trouble sleeping, haven't you... bad dreams?"
Corren stopped in his tracks.
"I never said that."
Rallin didn't respond. He just stood there, watching.
Corren stepped out into the cool air without another word. The wind had picked up, and the streets were empty. He kept walking, but his thoughts wouldn't settle.
He knew something was wrong.
And now he knew he wasn't the only one being watched.
But then something caught his eye near the edge of the graveyard. A small child knelt by the soil, dragging a finger slowly through the dirt. He paused, watching quietly.
The child didn't look up. They were drawing a symbol, one Corren didn't recognize, but it made his stomach twist.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
The child, still focused on the shape, replied softly, "He showed me in my dream. Said it's important."
Corren stood frozen, unsure of what to say.
The child looked up at him, eyes distant.
A chill crept down Corren's spine. He didn't answer. Something about the child's tone made his skin crawl. He turned without another word and walked quickly down the path.
The graveyard felt colder now. He kept his eyes forward, not daring to glance back, and didn't slow his pace until he reached the edge of town. Whatever was happening, it was spreading.
He just wanted to get home.
Corren trudged up the path to his home, the lingering chill from his encounter with the child still clinging to his skin. The sky had dimmed into a quiet gray, and the town had gone hushed with the settling dusk. He reached the front step and paused. Through the window, a lamp glowed in the living room.
His father was home.
Opening the door, Corren stepped inside and froze in place. His father sat in the old chair by the fireplace, arms crossed, staring into the flickering embers. He looked up when Corren entered, brow furrowed.
"You're home late," his father said.
"I stopped by the chapel," Corren answered, slipping his satchel off and placing it on the nearby table.
His father gave a short nod. "You seem off, Everything alright?"
Corren hesitated. He glanced down, then back up. "I have something to tell you."
His father leaned forward slightly. "Go on."
Corren opened his mouth, but the words caught. He looked away. "Never mind. It's nothing."
His father didn't look away. "It doesn't sound like nothing. Corren, what's going on with you?"
Corren fidgeted with the strap of his satchel. "It's just… things have been strange. Dreams. And Brother Rallin, he's been acting different. And I found something. Something that's... I don't know. Wrong."
"What kind of something?" his father asked slowly.
Corren finally looked at him. "A skull. Not normal. It hums. It's been giving me dreams. Rallin studied it, but now he's acting strange too. Like something's gotten into him."
His father blinked. "You've been carrying around a skull?"
"Not anymore. I gave it to Rallin. But it hasn't left me alone. The dreams keep coming."
Silence stretched. His father's face hardened. "Corren... do you hear yourself? This isn't something to ignore. You need help. Real help. There's a man in town, knows about the mind. You should talk to him."
Corren stepped back, shaking his head. "No. I'm not crazy. This is real. The dreams, the skull, everything."
"Corren-"
"You don't believe me. No one does."
"I'm trying to help you," his father said, standing. "You sound like someone who's losing grip. You need to talk to someone who understands this."
"No!" Corren shouted. "It's not in my head. Something is happening and everyone's just pretending it's fine."
His father moved closer. "Enough! You will speak to him. I'm not going to stand by while you spiral."
Corren turned and stormed off down the hall. "Fine. Don't believe me! But don't expect me to explain anything when it's too late."
He ran to his room and slammed the door, he sat heavily on the edge of the bed, hands shaking.
The house went quiet.
After a long moment, he stood and moved to the window, peering out toward the direction of the chapel.
Rallin knew something. He was hiding it. And if no one would help him, he'd find the truth himself.
He pulled on his coat, grabbed his satchel, and stepped quietly into the hallway. The door creaked as he slipped outside.
The night had fallen completely. He made his way through the shadowed streets, silent and alone.
Tonight, he would see what Rallin did when no one was watching.
Corren waited until the silence of night settled over the town. The wind had quieted, the trees no longer rustled, and the last of the windows had gone dark. He eased open the front door, glancing back once toward the hallway where his father slept, then stepped outside, careful not to let the hinges creak too loudly.
He didn't bring a lantern. The moon was thin, but his eyes adjusted quickly, and he preferred not to draw attention. The walk to the chapel was a quiet one. The usual sounds of insects and distant dogs had gone still. The roads, usually warm and familiar in the daylight, now felt cold and uncertain. He moved carefully along the edges, keeping to the fences and hedgerows, every sound sharpening his nerves.
By the time he reached the chapel, the stillness was nearly unbearable.
The building stood dark and silent. No lights in the front windows. The door was closed. No movement within. For a moment, Corren wondered if perhaps he had imagined it all. The skull, the strange behavior, the letter, the conversation. Maybe his father had been right.
But he rounded the side of the chapel anyway, crouched low under a row of narrow windows, and crept toward one just tall enough to peer through.
He slowly rose, keeping only his eyes above the ledge.
Inside, the chapel was not empty.
A ring of candles sat flickering on the stone floor, arranged without pattern or purpose. Their flames quivered unevenly, some leaning toward the center, some away, as though reacting to something unseen. At the center of the ring, placed with care atop a folded cloth, was the skull.
Corren's breath caught in his throat.
Brother Rallin knelt just in front of it, his head slightly bowed. He was speaking, his voice low and quick, but Corren could not hear the words. They came out as a soft murmuring hum, like a chant without structure or rhythm.
His robes were wrinkled and stained, his sleeves pushed up unevenly. His hair stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his hands moved restlessly, fingers twitching as though anxious to touch something he was trying to resist. All around him were markings on the floor. Not chalk. Not ink. Something dark. Lines and symbols looped and coiled in patterns Corren didn't recognize. They were jagged, nothing like the sacred symbols of the town's church.
This was not prayer.
It was something else. Something personal. Something desperate.
Corren leaned in closer, squinting through the glass.
Rallin's voice shifted. It wasn't directed upward, as one might speak to a god. It was aimed straight at the skull. He paused occasionally as if waiting for a reply, then nodded slowly and whispered something else. His hands trembled every time he reached toward the skull, brushing the edge of the cloth it sat on.
Then, something moved.
Behind the altar, where the flickering candlelight should have danced on smooth stone, a darkness had gathered. Not a shadow from the candles. Not a trick of the flickering flame. It swelled slightly, a soft motion like the slow inhale of breath. There was weight in it. The air around the altar seemed thicker, like heat shimmer in the distance. Corren's eyes watered just looking at it.
He recoiled from the window, his heart racing.
He stumbled backward into the grass, nearly losing his balance, then caught himself and hurried away, not daring to look back. The chapel stood behind him, quiet again. But the image stayed clear in his mind.
The skull.
The symbols.
The way Rallin whispered like something was answering.
Corren didn't stop until he had put good distance between himself and the chapel. His breath came in short bursts. His legs ached. But even as he neared the edge of town again, he knew one thing for certain.
Rallin was no longer just studying the skull.
He was speaking to it.
And something might have been speaking back.
Corren stumbled through the front door just as the first pale hints of morning began to stretch across the horizon. The sky outside was the color of faded slate, and the city still lay mostly quiet, shrouded in that eerie silence that comes just before dawn. His boots scraped lightly against the wooden floor as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with more care than he realized. The house, dim and still, welcomed him with a familiar kind of emptiness.
He let out a long breath and leaned against the door for a moment, eyes closed. The weight of everything he had seen pressed down on him like a stone tied around his ribs. The skull. The ritual. That strange shadow. The way Brother Rallin's voice had changed. It didn't feel real. It felt like something out of a forgotten storybook, one meant to frighten children. But Corren had seen it with his own eyes. The soft glow of the candles. The rhythmic whispering. That unsettling feeling that something had been present, watching. Listening.
He blinked himself out of his thoughts, kicked off his boots, and dragged himself to his room. His coat was still damp from the evening chill, but he did not care. He collapsed onto his bed face-first, too exhausted to remove it. The mattress, thin as it was, felt like the softest thing in the world at that moment. His body ached. His mind buzzed.
Sleep came quickly. But it brought no rest.
The dreams returned.
This time they were worse. The humming was louder now. Sharper. It pulsed through his skull in steady waves, vibrating through the fabric of the dream itself. He was standing in a dark corridor, surrounded by walls that wept blood. Voices whispered to him from the cracks, speaking in a language he could not understand, yet felt disturbingly familiar. Shadows twisted around his feet. Somewhere far away, a choir sang without melody. He turned a corner and saw a hand of bleached bone reaching from the dark. The fingers curled slowly. It pointed to him.
Corren jolted upright, gasping for air. His chest rose and fell quickly, and his skin was cold with sweat. The room was still dim, the sun just beginning to spill its light across the floor in soft, uneven slants. He wiped his face and sat still for a moment, trying to slow his heartbeat.
After a minute, he stood and stepped out into the hall. The wooden floor creaked beneath his feet as he moved into the living room. There, his father sat on the couch, hunched forward with a cup of tea cooling in his hands. He wore his undershirt and slacks, and the lines on his face looked deeper than usual, as if carved by worry that had been resting on him all night.
Corren hesitated at the threshold, watching his father's back.
"Dad," he said softly.
His father turned quickly. His eyes were tired, but alert. "Corren. You're up early."
"I didn't sleep well," Corren replied.
His father stood and set the mug on the small table beside the couch. He rubbed his hands together and stepped closer. "Is everything alright?"
Corren opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked down at the floor, then back up. "I… I think something's wrong with me."
His father's expression shifted immediately. Concern flared in his eyes, and he took another step forward. "What do you mean? What's wrong?"
Corren swallowed hard. "I've been having dreams. Bad ones. And not just at night. I've been seeing things. Hearing things. Brother Rallin… he's been doing strange things. Rituals. Last night, I saw him in the chapel. He was using that skull. The one from the grave."
His father blinked. The tension in his body changed. "What do you mean, rituals?"
"Candles. Chalk. He was chanting. The skull was part of it. There was something in the room with him. I couldn't see it, not clearly, but it was there."
A long silence followed.
When his father finally spoke, his voice was quiet and careful. "Corren, I want you to listen to me. You're scaring me right now. I know you believe what you're saying. But this… this sounds like the beginning of something dangerous."
Corren's brow furrowed. "Dangerous?"
"I watched my brother go through something like this. You were too young to remember, but he started talking about voices and shadows. He was convinced that something was after him. Eventually, he stopped sleeping. Stopped eating. He couldn't tell what was real anymore."
"I'm not like him," Corren said quickly.
"I know you don't think you are. But I can't take the risk of just watching this happen again."
"What are you saying?"
His father walked over to the fireplace and pulled a folded piece of paper from the mantle. "I've arranged for someone to speak with you. A specialist. A mind healer, from Arwood. He's agreed to meet you today. Just one session. You don't have to commit to anything."
Corren stared at him. "You think I'm going crazy."
"I think you're in pain," his father said gently. "And I would rather be overcautious than do nothing and regret it later."
He turned and walked toward the back room, preparing the sitting area. Corren remained frozen in place, his jaw tight, his fists clenched at his sides.
I'm not insane, he thought. Something is happening. I just need proof.
Later that morning, Corren found himself wandering through the older district of the city. The buildings here leaned in on each other like old friends who had lost the strength to stand upright. The streets were narrower, more crowded, the air filled with the distant clamor of carts and voices.
He passed under the black iron gate of the city library and stopped in front of a small wooden cart parked outside. A man in several layers of coats stood behind it, his breath curling in front of his face.
"Got any candles left?" Corren asked without much thought.
The vendor looked up with a crooked smile. "Only two. Some fella from the chapel's been buyin' them all up lately. Keeps askin' for the black ones."
Corren paused. "Someone from the chapel?"
The man nodded. "Old fella. Wears robes. Doesn't talk much. Comes every few days, always wants the same thing."
Corren glanced down at the candles. He picked them both up and handed the man a few coins.
Inside the library, Corren searched for answers. He skimmed the shelves, flipping through books on ancient religion, folklore, the history of relics, and even the old teachings of banned saints. Nothing came close to what he had seen.
Eventually, he approached the librarian at the front desk.
"Do you have anything on old rituals? Maybe something about communicating with the dead?"
The woman gave him a strange look. "We don't carry books like that here. I suggest you speak to a clergy member."
He sighed. "Alright."
He left the library empty-handed.
On his walk home, he passed the chapel. The building looked ordinary again. He stepped up to one of the side windows and peeked inside.
It was empty.
The altar stood clean and undisturbed. The pews were dark and silent. No candles. No symbols. No shadows.
Just wood, stone, and glass.
Corren exhaled and turned away.
When he arrived home, the door creaked open and he stepped inside, only to stop short in the doorway.
His father was standing in the living room with another man. The stranger wore a long brown coat and carried a leather case tucked under his arm. He had sharp eyes and a calm expression, the kind of calm that felt practiced.
His father gestured toward him. "Corren, this is Mister Harrow. He's here to speak with you. Just for a short while."
Corren glanced from the man to his father.
"Please," his father said softly. "Just talk. That's all I ask."
Corren sat down across from the man, his shoulders tense. Harrow opened his case, pulled out a notebook, and gave him a warm, measured smile.
"I appreciate you agreeing to this. I only want to ask a few questions. You don't need to answer anything you're uncomfortable with."
Corren nodded stiffly.
"When did these dreams begin?" Harrow asked.
Corren looked down at his hands. "A few weeks ago."
"Do you feel safe at home?"
He hesitated. "Usually."
"Do you ever hear voices that aren't there?"
Corren's throat tightened. "No."
"Do you feel like someone or something is trying to hurt you?"
Another pause. "No. Not exactly."
The questions continued. Harrow's voice was always gentle, always steady. But Corren felt no relief. Every answer he gave felt like walking a tightrope. Truth felt dangerous, but lying felt pointless.
When it was over, Harrow closed his notebook and stood.
"Thank you for your honesty," he said. "If you ever want to speak again, I'm available."
Corren didn't reply. He walked past him, back to his room.
Later that afternoon, Corren left the house again with the candles in hand. He walked to Elda's home and knocked. She answered with mild surprise, her long hair tied back loosely, a book in her hand.
"Corren?" she asked.
I thought you'd like these," he said, holding out the candles.
She smiled softly and stepped aside to let him in.
Once inside, he told her everything.
Brother Rallin. The skull. The chanting. The dreams. The shadow in the chapel.
Elda listened, her expression unreadable. When he finished, there was a long silence between them.
"I'm going back tonight," Corren said. "I have to see it again."
"I'm coming with you," she said without hesitation.
Elda grabbed a coat before they stepped outside. The night air was crisp and cold, the kind that prickled at the skin and made every sound sharper. The sky overhead was a dark canvas, brushed with faint clouds that drifted slowly past the moon, dimming and revealing its pale glow in intervals. Their boots struck the cobblestones quietly as they walked.
Neither of them spoke at first. Corren kept his hands buried deep in his coat pockets, his shoulders tense. Elda walked beside him, her gaze occasionally flicking toward him as if measuring his silence.
After several minutes, Elda broke the quiet. "You don't have to do this tonight, you know."
Corren shook his head. "No. I do. If I leave it alone, it'll just keep festering. I need to see it again. Need to know it wasn't just… in my head."
Elda gave a small nod. "Alright. Then I'm with you."
As they drew closer to the chapel, the streets began to thin out. Fewer lanterns lined the road here. The air felt stiller, like the town itself was holding its breath. When they turned the final corner, the chapel loomed ahead in the dark. Its pointed steeple jutted into the night like a warning finger. The stained glass was dark, and the only light came from within, flickering soft, like candlelight behind a curtain.
They approached the side window slowly, careful not to let their footsteps echo. Corren placed a hand on the edge of the stone frame and leaned in just enough to see. Elda stepped up beside him, her breath ghosting in the cold air.
Brother Rallin was there again. He moved in slow, deliberate motions, placing black candles around the circle, evenly spaced. He had drawn a new pattern in chalk, more intricate than before. Strange intersecting runes curled across the floor. The skull sat at the center again, surrounded by a ring of dried herbs. Rallin knelt before it, head bowed, whispering words they couldn't quite hear.
Then the ritual began.
He lit each candle in a slow circle, and with every flame, the shadows around the chapel seemed to thicken. His voice began to rise, low and rhythmic, like a chant that had been spoken for centuries. The syllables were harsh, scraping against the silence like stone on bone. His hands hovered over the skull, trembling slightly. The runes began to shimmer with a special kind of motion, as if they were breathing.
Corren's breath caught in his throat. He leaned closer. The hum was returning. That same vibrating hum he had felt before, but now it was louder. Stronger. It drummed behind his eyes like a second heartbeat.
Rallin's voice took on a strange, layered tone. It no longer sounded like just one man speaking. Something echoed beneath his words, not quite another voice, but not entirely his either. His body shuddered with each word, his eyes wide now, locked onto the skull.
Elda leaned slightly toward Corren and whispered, "That… that's not prayer."
"No," Corren whispered back. "It's something else."
Inside, Rallin's hands began to move in patterns through the air. Each movement seemed to slice the space around him. The air shimmered faintly. The skull rattled once. Just once. But it was enough to freeze both Corren and Elda in place.
The candles flickered violently. The light bent in unnatural ways, stretching and warping the shadows along the chapel walls. Shapes began to move within the dark not very clearly, but they were there, shifting just out of reach. One shape lingered longer than the others, looming over Rallin's back like a figure watching him intently.
The air around the window grew cold like winter frost, like standing before something ancient and untouched by warmth. Corren's breath came out in shuddered clouds.
Rallin cried out a single word, sharp and foreign, and the shadows convulsed. The light from the candles surged outward in a sudden burst. The wind outside picked up as if answering the call.
Then silence.
The candles sputtered and dimmed, returning to their steady flicker. The humming stopped. The shape vanished.
Rallin knelt silently in front of the skull, shoulders rising and falling with exhaustion. His head dipped low. His lips moved again, quietly, but the tone was different now, reverent. Grieving, almost. He whispered something to the skull, "I'll free you from the catacombs."
Then, with deliberate care, he lifted the skull and brought it into his face, tears began to stream down his cheeks as he held it close, staring into the hollow eyes like a maniac. He stayed like that for ten minutes, and then placed it gently back on the floor beside the altar. He stood slowly, his knees unsteady, and snuffed out each candle with his hand, one by one. Darkness filled the chapel once more.
Corren and Elda stepped back from the window, both of them silent for a long moment.
Elda was the first to speak. "That was insanely weird."
Corren looked back at the window, the darkened glass now showing only the faint reflections of the town behind them.
They walked slowly through the quiet streets, the world still hushed around them. The town seemed different now, smaller somehow, as if they had passed through some invisible curtain and emerged into a place that no longer felt entirely safe.
Neither of them rushed. Their footsteps were soft against the stones.
After a while, Elda spoke again. "Do you still think this is about madness?"
"No," Corren said. "I think something's happening. And I think Brother Rallin… I think he's trying to contact something."
Elda wrapped her coat tighter around herself. "What did he mean by catacombs?"
Corren looked at her "Not sure, i think he was just saying random nonsense."
When they reached her house, she stopped at the door and turned toward him.
"You're going to keep looking into this, aren't you?"
Corren nodded. "I have to, I'm in too deep now."
She looked like she wanted to say more, but instead, she just gave a small, solemn nod.
"I'll keep you updated," he said. "Whatever I find next."
Elda opened the door, hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside.
Corren stood on the steps for a few seconds longer, staring out at the empty street.
Then he turned and walked home alone, the cold wind following behind him like a whisper.