Whispers of the Forgotten Pines

Ethan's eyes snapped open.

For a moment, he didn't know where he was.

His body ached, his limbs heavy as if he had been pulled through something not meant for humans to cross. His vision swam, and the world around him felt off—like he had stepped into a dream that wasn't his own.

A groan sounded nearby. He turned his head.

Lillian lay a few feet away, sprawled across the cold, stone ground, her eyes fluttering open. "Ethan…?"

"I'm here," he said, pushing himself up onto his elbows. His head throbbed. "Are you okay?"

She nodded weakly, but her expression told him she felt as disoriented as he did.

Slowly, he forced himself to his feet, his boots scraping against the uneven stone. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The air was stale, thick with dust and something… older. A scent like burnt wood and damp earth.

Then he looked around.

And his blood ran cold.

They weren't in the ruins anymore.

They were inside a town.

But it wasn't the Whispering Pines he knew.

The buildings around them were old—far older than they should have been. Thatched roofs, wooden beams, cobbled streets… it was like they had stepped centuries into the past.

Lillian pushed herself up, brushing dirt off her clothes. She followed his gaze, her breath catching. "Ethan… this is—"

"I know," he said. "This is Whispering Pines. But not our Whispering Pines."

They stood in the middle of a marketplace, but it was deserted. Wooden stalls stood abandoned, their wares left to rot. Crates of spoiled fruit, barrels overturned, tools scattered. It looked as though people had fled in a hurry.

Ethan turned slowly, scanning the buildings. The homes were intact, their windows dark, their doors slightly ajar. It was as if the town had been frozen in time—caught in the moment just before something terrible happened.

A gust of wind whispered through the empty streets, carrying with it faint echoes—distant voices that shouldn't exist.

Lillian took a shaky step forward. "Do you hear that?"

Ethan nodded. He wasn't sure if the whispers were real, or if they were part of the place itself.

Then, in the silence, a bell tolled.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The sound sent a shiver down his spine.

"That's coming from the church," Lillian said, pointing down the street.

Ethan followed her gaze. At the far end of the town, a large stone chapel loomed over the rest of the buildings. Its bell tower stretched into the sky, and its massive wooden doors stood slightly open.

Something about it made Ethan uneasy.

"Someone's inside," Lillian whispered.

Ethan clenched his fists. "Or something."

She shot him a look, but they both knew there was no other choice. If they wanted answers, they had to go inside.

They moved cautiously, their footsteps unnaturally loud on the empty street. The houses on either side seemed to watch them, their open doors like gaping mouths.

As they neared the church, Ethan caught movement in one of the windows.

He stopped dead.

A face stared back at him from inside a house.

Pale. Hollow eyes. Skin stretched too tight over its bones.

Then—it was gone.

A chill ran down his spine. "We're not alone," he muttered.

Lillian swallowed hard but didn't slow her pace.

They reached the church steps. Ethan hesitated only a second before pushing open the massive wooden door. It creaked as it swung inward.

The inside of the church was dimly lit by flickering candles. Wooden pews stretched toward the altar, where a massive stone slab stood at the center. Carvings covered its surface—ancient symbols Ethan had never seen before.

At the far end of the hall, a figure stood in the shadows.

A man.

He was tall, draped in dark robes, his face hidden beneath a hood. He stood motionless, as if expecting them.

"Welcome," the man said, his voice low and rasping.

Ethan tensed. "Who are you?"

The man lifted his head slightly, just enough for the candlelight to reveal his face. He was old, his skin worn and weathered like leather. His eyes, however, were sharp—too sharp. They held something unnatural, something that made Ethan's stomach twist.

"You have entered a place that does not exist," the man said, his gaze shifting between them. "A shadow of what was. A place cursed to repeat its final moments over and over again."

Lillian frowned. "What happened here?"

The man took a slow step forward. "You already know, don't you?" His lips curled into a faint smile. "You've seen the whispers of it. The destruction. The end."

Ethan clenched his jaw. "Something wiped this town off the map. Something no one talks about."

The man nodded. "And yet, it still lingers." He gestured around them. "This town, this echo, is all that remains. A warning… for those who dare seek the truth."

Lillian's voice was barely a whisper. "The Watchers…"

The man's eyes darkened. "Ah. So you have seen them."

Ethan stepped forward. "What are they?"

The old man regarded him for a long moment, as if deciding whether or not to tell him. Then, finally, he spoke:

"They are the remnants of the first ones who sought the truth. They came here believing they could uncover the secrets of this land. But the truth is a dangerous thing."

Lillian's breath hitched. "What happened to them?"

The man's expression didn't change. "They became part of the curse. They linger, caught between worlds. Not living. Not dead."

Ethan's fists clenched. "Then how do we stop this?"

The man studied him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he raised a single bony finger—

And pointed to the stone slab at the altar.

"The answer lies beneath," he said.

Ethan and Lillian exchanged a glance.

And then—

The bell tolled again.

Louder.

Closer.

The church doors slammed shut.

And the whispers outside turned into screams.

What lies beneath the altar? What truth was buried in Whispering Pines? And will Ethan and Lillian escape before the Watchers close in?