Chapter 12

SWYN

I stir my coffee absentmindedly, watching the morning sunlight pour through the diner's windows. The smell of fresh bacon and pancakes drifts through the air, and for a moment, I almost forget where I am. Almost.

But Spells Hollow isn't the kind of place you can forget for long.

The dog from last night has been on my mind all morning. That knowing look in his eyes. I'd swear he's been watching me, following me. I glance out the window, half-expecting to see him sitting there again, staring back at me with that curious gaze. But the street's empty.

Calm down, Swyn. It's just a dog.

I try to shake off the weird feeling, refocusing on my plate of bacon and eggs. The diner is quiet this morning, a few scattered regulars drinking their coffee and chatting about the weather. I'm finishing the last bite of bacon when something warm brushes against my leg.

I jump, nearly knocking over my coffee. "What the?—?"

Peeking under the table, I spot him. The dog. The same one. He's snuck into the diner, crouched there under my table with those big, imploring eyes.

"What are you doing here?" I whisper, glancing around to see if anyone else has noticed. But the other patrons are too busy with their conversations.

He just stares up at me, his tail wagging slightly, as if he's in on some private joke.

I sigh, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Fine. You win."

I tear off a strip of bacon from my plate and sneak it under the table, slipping it into his waiting mouth. He gulps it down without hesitation, his tail thumping happily against the floor.

"You can't keep doing this, you know," I mutter, giving him another piece. "I'm not your personal breakfast buffet."

He licks his chops and settles down, clearly satisfied with his bacon haul.

I finish my coffee, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous the situation is. Here I am, feeding some stray dog under the table like we're old pals. But there's something about him that feels different. Almost like he's watching me. Or watching over me, more like it.

With breakfast over, I slide out of the booth and head for the door. The bell jingles as I push it open, and I glance down to see the dog trotting along beside me like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"You've got a lot of nerve," I say, shaking my head as he follows me across the street toward my car. "You can't just hitch a ride, you know."

He doesn't seem to care. In fact, he seems to think this is a done deal. I pop the trunk, toss my bag inside, and turn around to find him sitting by the driver's side door, staring at me expectantly.

"Go on," I say, pointing back toward the diner. "Shoo."

He doesn't budge. Instead, he tilts his head to the side and lets out a sharp bark, like he's scolding me .

"Oh, come on." I cross my arms, trying to sound firm. "I'm going back to Spells Hollow. It's dangerous. You're better off here."

He barks again, his dark eyes fixed on mine. And then— whine . A high-pitched, pitiful sound that tugs at my heartstrings way more than it should.

I groan, throwing my hands up. "Seriously?"

Another whine.

"Fine!" I relent, opening the passenger door. "But if you shed all over my seat, I'm dropping you off at the first sign of trouble. Deal?"

He bounds into the front seat with a single leap, tail wagging with furious joy. I can't believe I just let a dog manipulate me like this. Even its expression looks smug.

"Great. You're really selling the whole tough-loner vibe, Swyn," I mutter as I slide into the driver's seat and start the car. "Running away from your life, now adopting strays. You're on a roll."

With the dog settled beside me, we drive toward Spells Hollow, the road growing more isolated as we leave the small town behind. The fields stretch out on either side, and the air feels heavier the closer we get.

I don't know why, but something about this place always feels like it's pulling me in, like the air itself is thicker, filled with secrets and shadows.

The dog stays quiet, his head resting on the edge of the seat as he stares out the window. Occasionally, I catch him glancing at me, like he knows something I don't. It's unsettling.

And then it happens. Just like the first time.

The car sputters.

I grip the steering wheel, already knowing what comes next. "No, no, no. Come on, not again."

The engine coughs once, twice, then dies completely. I coast to a stop on the side of the road, the tall trees of Spells Hollow looming in the distance.

I stare at the dashboard, then at the dog, who has already sat up, watching me with those same knowing brown eyes. "You have got to be kidding me."

With a sigh, I turn off the ignition and sit back in my seat, defeated.

"Looks like this is as far as we go on four wheels."

The dog lets out a soft woof, like he's agreeing with me.

"Alright," I mutter, climbing out of the car. "Guess we're walking."

I grab my bag from the trunk, sling it over my shoulder, and start down the road. The dog jumps out of the car and trots along beside me, his tail wagging like we're off on some grand adventure.

I glance down at him. "You know, I really shouldn't be doing this. I should be…I don't know, driving far away from here. But no, here I am, walking back to the creepiest town I've ever been in with a dog I don't even know."

He barks softly, his tail wagging even faster.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't act like this is your idea of fun either," I say, half-smiling. "But I guess we're in it together now."

We continue down the road, Spells Hollow looming ahead like a shadow from some forgotten dream. The closer we get, the heavier the air feels, like the town itself is watching us.

This time, when I enter the town – or I guess I should say we, because my four legged furry friend won't leave my side – we take a different route around the town.

Nestled among the trees are more abandoned buildings in various states of ruin. Many of the remains are charred, as if destroyed by a great fire, but I know enough to recognise that the too perfectly patterned scorch marks on the ground are actually the result of a curse and not a blaze.

Many of the buildings were once wooden, so it's understandable that they look like they've burned to the ground, but even the occasional stone building hasn't been immune to whatever tragedy happened here.

I wander aimlessly around the town's ruins, not sure what I'm doing or what I'm searching for, but trusting my intuition will let me know when I find it.

Glass crunches underfoot and I halt, panic surging through my veins.

"Stay, boy!" I cry, holding up my palm to stop my four legged friend from following me.

I've wandered over to one of the stone ruins where shards of broken glass are embedded in the earth, glinting in the light. I don't want him to cut his paws.

The dog yips happily at me and sits, its tail wagging enthusiastically as he obediently waits for me to finish my perusal of this area.

I glance around but nothing is calling out to me. "Come on, little one. Let's try somewhere else." Another happy yip. "Do you know any good places to search for something that will help me break a centuries-old family curse?"

God, of course he doesn't, Swyn. He's a dog. You need to get a grip.

I'd tried asking one of the staff in the diner about Spells Hollow again this morning, but I'm not convinced that the blonde lady who told me all sorts of crazy stories was actually telling me the truth.

The dog barks and draws my attention back to him, so I crouch down to give him a scratch behind his ears. Really need to give this little guy a name.

The dog leans into my hand, his tail thumping against the ground, seemingly oblivious to the eerie surroundings. I let out a soft sigh and stand up, glancing around again at the ruins of Spells Hollow.

What the hell am I even looking for?

It feels ridiculous, walking through a cursed ghost town with no plan, guided only by instinct and a dog's enthusiasm. Yet, I can't shake the feeling that something important is buried here – something hidden beneath the decay, the history, and the weight of whatever darkness still lingers in the air.

I glance at the scorched marks again. The perfectly charred patterns swirl across the ground like a malevolent handprint, one that's been seared into the earth for centuries.

I wonder if my family's connection to this place runs deeper than I've been told. There's no way the stories back at the diner captured the full scope of what happened here.

The dog barks again, more insistent this time. He's staring off toward a narrow, overgrown path I hadn't noticed before, tucked between two crumbling stone structures.

The path seems to lead deeper into the woods, where the trees grow denser, their branches twisted together like skeletal fingers.

I hesitate. I'm not sure why, but something about that path feels wrong. Like it's pulling me toward it, the way a nightmare sometimes pulls you closer to the thing you fear most, even though every fibre of your being is screaming to run.

The dog lets out another bark, breaking me out of my trance. His tail wags excitedly, his entire body quivering with the urge to explore.

Dammit, Swyn, get it together. I steel myself, gripping the strap of my bag a little tighter, and start walking toward the path. My boots crunch softly on the uneven ground, and the dog trots ahead, sniffing the air with eager curiosity.

The deeper we go, the colder it gets. The oppressive stillness of Spells Hollow seems to thicken the air around us, pressing down on my skin like invisible hands.

The path is barely discernible under layers of dead leaves and twisted roots, and the canopy above blocks out most of the remaining light.

After what feels like an eternity, we come to a small clearing, and my breath catches in my throat.

In the centre of the clearing stands a lone stone structure, unlike any of the other ruins we've passed. It's mostly intact, though vines and moss have overtaken much of the exterior. A jagged crack runs down the middle of the stone door, and strange, faded symbols are carved into the archway above it.

The dog stops at the edge of the clearing, his ears perked and tail still. He whines softly, like he senses something off about the place. Odd, as a moment ago he was leading the way with gusto.

Now he senses danger? Maybe I should stop following a damn dog and start using my brain.

"Stay close," I murmur, taking a step toward the structure. The air is colder here, sharper, and there's something humming just beneath the surface of the earth. It's faint, but it's there. A strange, pulsing energy.

I approach the door, running my fingers over the carved symbols. They're worn down, nearly unreadable, but I can feel the weight of them. This place is different. Important.

The dog growls suddenly, low and deep, his body stiffening as he stares at the door. A ridge has risen all along his back and his teeth are bared. I freeze, my heart pounding. Something shifts in the air around us. The wind picks up, rustling the leaves above, and for a moment, I swear I hear a faint whisper.

I pull my hand back from the door, swallowing hard. What the hell am I doing?

But there's no denying the pull of this place. Something is here, something connected to the curse – and possibly to me.

Taking a deep breath, I grip the edge of the cracked stone door and pull. It groans in protest, but slowly, it shifts, revealing a dark, yawning space beyond. The dog barks sharply, taking a step back, but I'm already stepping inside.

The air is damp and stale, thick with the scent of earth and rot. The faint glow from outside barely penetrates the space, casting long shadows across the floor.

It's small, barely more than a room, and mostly empty – except for the large stone slab in the centre, covered in dust and more faded symbols. I approach it cautiously, my heartbeat echoing in my ears.

There's something familiar about this place. I can't explain it, but it's like I've been here before, even though I know that's impossible.

I brush some of the dust away from the slab, revealing more of the strange carvings. They're intricate, almost delicate, spiralling out from the centre in a pattern that reminds me of the scorched marks outside.

My fingers hover over the stone, and a sharp tingling sensation shoots up my arm the moment I touch it.

I jerk back, gasping. The dog lets out a low whimper, pacing nervously near the door.

"What the hell?" I whisper, staring at the slab. The tingling lingers, buzzing beneath my skin. There's something here.

I reach into my bag, pulling out a small notebook where I've been keeping notes on everything I've learned about the curse. Flipping through the pages, I search for anything that might explain the symbols or the strange feeling in the air. But nothing I've found so far matches what's in front of me.

My head throbs as I try to make sense of it all. There has to be a reason I was drawn here, to this town, to this…tomb? Sanctuary? I don't even know what to call it.

The dog barks again, louder this time, startling me out of my thoughts. His ears are pinned back, and he's staring at something just beyond the door.

I turn slowly, my blood running cold.

There's a figure standing at the edge of the clearing, half-hidden in the shadows.

For a moment, I can't move. I can barely breathe. The figure doesn't move either, but its gaze is locked on me, heavy and unnerving. It's too far away to make out any details, but there's something unmistakably wrong about it.

The air around it seems to shimmer, like heat waves on pavement, distorting its shape.

I exit the tomb and take a step back from the shadows, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

"Come on, boy," I whisper urgently to the dog, who's already by my side, growling low in his throat.

We back away slowly, my eyes never leaving the figure. It still doesn't move, but the oppressive energy in the clearing thickens, pushing against me, pressing in on all sides.

As soon as we reach the edge of the structure, I turn and sprint, the dog close on my heels. We tear through the overgrown path, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The branches scratch at my skin, and the air feels colder, sharper, as if something is chasing us, but I don't dare look back.

Finally, we burst out of the woods, back into the ruined outskirts of Spells Hollow. My legs feel like jelly, but I keep moving, not stopping until the town square is in sight.

I double over, gasping for breath, the dog panting beside me.

The figure…the structure…it's all wrong. This whole place is wrong .

"Let's go, boy," I mutter, my voice shaky. I glance back toward the woods, half-expecting to see the figure standing there, watching. But there's nothing. "This isn't what I'm looking for."

Still, I can't shake the feeling that something is coming for me. And I have no idea how to stop it.