The Silence That Waited

 
"We reached a clearing. Big. Empty. The trees ended like they’d been cut mid-thought. Nothing moved. No wind. No hum. Not even the bugs dared."

"The ground was covered in... roots, maybe. Or veins. Big pulsing things, thick as my arm, stretching into the forest like they were feeding or feeding from it."

"They all pointed inward. Toward the middle of the clearing. Toward it."

"The ruin?"

"Yeah. Or what was left of one. Slabs and arches half-sunken into the dirt, worn smooth by time or breath or both. But that wasn’t the worst part."

"There was something in the center. Big. Round. Lumpy like a tumor made of stone and meat. It wasn’t alive—not the way we understand it. But it was moving. Slowly. Purposefully."

"It was collecting something. Dust. Echoes. Maybe even dreams. Bits of light were floating into it—like memories being fed into a machine that couldn’t forget."

"And the fairy?"

"She stopped singing. Mid-note. Just went still. Hovered there like she was waiting to see if I’d catch up. Or maybe... waiting to see if I’d turn back."

"That moment… it didn’t feel like a dream anymore. It felt like a doorway. And it was trying to decide whether to open... or eat me."