The last time anyone saw Claire Holloway, she was standing at the edge of Blackwood Lake, staring into the water as if something was staring back.

The search party found her car abandoned on the dirt road leading to the woods, keys still in the ignition. Her phone was in the passenger seat, the screen cracked. The last text she sent was to her sister, Hannah.

"I see them in the water."

That was a year ago.

And now, the disappearances had started again.

---

Hannah Holloway hadn’t returned to Blackwood in ten years. Not since she and Claire left this cursed place behind.

But after a year of unanswered questions, missing-person flyers curling at the edges, and an investigation that had gone cold, Hannah had no choice.

Claire was out there somewhere. Hannah was going to find her—even if it meant walking straight into the nightmare her sister had left behind.

She arrived just before dusk, the sky bruised with shades of purple and red. The town hadn’t changed. The same rusted gas station on the corner. The same peeling sign above the diner. Blackwood had always been frozen in time, stuck in its own quiet decay.

But there was something else.

Something wrong.

The streets were empty. The houses too still, their windows dark and uninviting. Even the wind felt strange, whispering through the trees in a way that made her skin prickle.

Hannah parked in front of the sheriff’s station. The fluorescent sign buzzed weakly, casting a sickly yellow glow onto the pavement.

Inside, Sheriff Tom Grayson barely looked up from his desk. He was the same gruff man she remembered from childhood, only older, more tired.

“Hannah.” His voice was flat, uninterested. “Didn’t think you’d come back.”

She dropped a faded newspaper on his desk. The headline made her stomach twist.

𝗟𝗢𝗖𝗔𝗟 𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗡 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚—𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗧 𝗦𝗘𝗘𝗡 𝗕𝗬 𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞𝗪𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗟𝗔𝗞𝗘.

Hannah’s voice was cold. “Tell me why kids are still going missing.”

The sheriff sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “It’s not what you think.”

Hannah leaned in. “Then tell me what it is.”

Tom didn’t speak.

But behind him, on the old case board filled with missing posters and dead-end reports, something caught Hannah’s eye.

A photograph.

A grainy security camera still, taken from the night Claire vanished.

Her sister, standing by the lake.

And behind her—

𝗔 𝗳𝗶𝗴𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿.

Watching.

Waiting.

And Hannah could swear—𝗶𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗻𝗼 𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲.

Hannah's stomach twisted.

The figure in the water had no face. No features. Just a blurred, black shape that shouldn’t have been there.

Her hands trembled as she reached for the photograph, bringing it closer, as if staring hard enough would change what she saw. But it didn’t.

The thing was standing just behind Claire.

Too close.

Sheriff Grayson cleared his throat, shifting in his chair. "We never released that image to the public," he muttered.

Hannah’s eyes snapped to him. "Why not?"

His jaw tightened. "Because we don’t know what the hell it is."

"Are you kidding me?" Her voice rose. "My sister went missing a year ago. And you’re telling me you had this evidence the whole time and did nothing with it?"

Grayson sighed, leaning back in his chair like the weight of her words was something he’d carried for a long time. "We looked, Holloway. For months. Every inch of that lake, the surrounding woods, the town itself. No footprints. No body. No signs of struggle." He tapped the photo. "And no one we showed this to could explain what the hell we were looking at."

"Maybe because it isn’t human," Hannah whispered.

The words felt wrong in her mouth, but she couldn’t take them back. The sheriff didn’t laugh. He didn’t scoff. That scared her more than anything.

He just looked at her, his face unreadable. "Whatever it is," he said finally, "it’s back."

Silence stretched between them. Outside, the wind howled through the trees, rattling the windows.

Hannah swallowed hard, her pulse pounding in her ears. "Take me to the lake."

Grayson didn’t move. "Not at night."

"Why?"

His lips pressed into a thin line. "Because that’s when they come."

A chill ran down her spine. "They?"

Grayson stood up and walked to the window, staring out into the misty streets. "We call them The Hollow Ones."

The name sent a sharp jolt of dread through her.

"You think they took Claire," she said. It wasn’t a question.

Grayson exhaled through his nose. "I think Claire saw something she wasn’t supposed to. And I think you’re about to do the same damn thing."

Hannah’s fingers curled into fists. "I don’t care. I need to know what happened to her."

Grayson was quiet for a long moment. Then he turned back to her, his face grim.

"Then I hope you’re ready," he said. "𝗕𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺—𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂, 𝘁𝗼𝗼."

---

The weight of the sheriff’s words lingered in the air.

"Once you see them—they see you, too."

Hannah swallowed the lump in her throat. The image of the faceless figure burned behind her eyes. She wanted to believe it was a trick of the camera—distortion, bad lighting, a glitch. But deep down, she knew better.

Something was in that lake the night Claire disappeared. And if it had taken her sister, Hannah would drag it into the light and make it give her back.

She squared her shoulders. "Take me there. Tonight."

Sheriff Grayson’s jaw tightened. "I told you. Not at night."

"Why? Because of The Hollow Ones?" she asked, testing the name on her tongue.

Grayson’s eyes darkened. "That’s not just some legend, Holloway. This town's been dealing with them for over a hundred years." He rubbed a hand over his face. "Every twenty years, someone goes missing. Always near the lake. No bodies. No evidence. Just… gone."

Hannah’s stomach twisted. "And Claire? What about the others?"

"Never found."

The weight of his words settled in her chest.

"Then I don’t have twenty years to wait," she snapped. "If these things are back, I need to know what they want. I need to know if Claire—"

Her voice broke. She swallowed hard. "I need to see for myself."

Grayson studied her for a long moment, then exhaled sharply. "Fine. But we go before the fog rolls in. And if I say we leave, we leave. Got it?"

Hannah nodded. "Got it."

---

The Road to Blackwood Lake

The drive to the lake was suffocatingly quiet. The night pressed in around them, thick with fog that clung to the trees like ghostly fingers.

Hannah sat in the passenger seat of Grayson’s truck, her hands balled into fists. The headlights barely cut through the mist, casting eerie shadows against the trees.

"You know, I thought you’d be different," Grayson muttered.

Hannah glanced at him. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Thought you’d be smarter than to come back here."

She scoffed. "I didn’t have a choice."

Grayson didn’t argue. He just tightened his grip on the wheel and kept driving.

As they neared the lake, the air grew heavier. Colder. The scent of damp earth and stagnant water filled the truck.

Then she saw it.

The water stretched out like a black void, completely still, as if frozen in time. Mist curled above the surface, swirling unnaturally. The dock, old and rotting, jutted out into the lake like the bones of something long dead.

The trees lining the shore stood tall and skeletal, their bare branches reaching toward the sky. The entire place felt… wrong. Like the world had forgotten it.

Hannah stepped out of the truck, her breath visible in the sudden cold.

"Jesus," she muttered. "It wasn’t like this before."

"It changes at night," Grayson said, shutting his door. He reached into the truck bed and pulled out a shotgun.

Her brows shot up. "You think bullets will stop something that doesn’t have a face?"

Grayson sighed. "No. But they make me feel better."

That wasn’t comforting.

Hannah took a cautious step toward the water. The air buzzed with a strange energy, making the hairs on her arms rise.

She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out Claire’s cracked phone. The screen was dead, but she held it tightly anyway.

"Claire was standing right here," she murmured, staring at the edge of the dock.

Grayson shifted beside her. "Yeah."

She turned to him. "What was she looking at?"

Grayson hesitated, then pointed at the water. "That."

Hannah followed his gaze.

At first, she saw nothing. Just the smooth, unbroken surface of the lake.

Then—

The ripples.

Small. Gentle. As if something was just beneath the surface, watching.

She sucked in a breath. "Did you see that?"

Grayson nodded, his face grim. "Yeah."

A chill slithered down her spine. The water stilled again, silent and waiting.

Then—

A whisper.

Not from the trees. Not from Grayson.

From the lake.

"Hannah."

She froze.

The voice was distant. Familiar.

Her throat tightened. "Claire?"

Grayson grabbed her arm. "Don’t."

She shook him off, stepping closer to the water. "Claire?!"

Silence.

Then, slowly—the lake answered.

The water, once still, began to move. A slow, unnatural ripple fanned out from the center of the lake.

Something was coming up.

A shape rose from the depths, breaking the surface without making a sound.

Hannah’s breath caught.

It was a person.

No—the shape of a person.

Dripping wet. Hollow. Faceless.

She staggered back, her pulse slamming against her ribs.

Grayson cocked the shotgun. "We’re leaving. Now."

But Hannah couldn’t move.

Because the figure in the water was reaching for her.

And then it spoke.

"Help me."

Her blood ran cold.

Because this time, she recognized the voice.

It was Claire.

---