The Hollow Remembers

 
"At first I thought I was sick. Dream-hangover. Shock. Something. But then I started noticing the gaps."

"The mail was sealed. Calendar blank. Door chained from the inside. The house looked like mine. Smelled like mine. But I started wondering—was it mine?"

"I remembered a wife. Red hair. Called me ‘Vee.’ But in every photo I found, I was alone."

"I started wondering if she ever existed at all. If the woods didn’t just take her—but wrote me differently."

"And the dreams came back. Every few nights. Always the same: a glowing thread. A spiral turning in air. That same ruin. Only this time... I wasn’t following the fairy."

"I was bringing someone else."

Gaius stared, but Vell was already speaking softer now.

"I think it let me go so I could show the path. Not because I survived it. Because it wants to be found again."

"And I think it wants me to bring it back."

"Why tell me?"

Vell smiled, but it was hollow. The lights flickered once.

"Because I think it already knows you’re coming."

He leaned closer—voice barely audible.

"And I think... it’s already remembering you."

Gaius stiffened.

"Remembering?"

Vell’s eyes glinted. Too pale.

"Like maybe you were there once."

The silence that followed wasn’t empty.

It pulsed.