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I fled, and screams erupted as the ghouls gave chase.

I leapt over a fallen tree and checked to make sure Rook was with me.

Waving frantically, Rook shouted, “Get back to the castle!” A useless command; what else would I do?

I dodged a trunk and—I slammed into a wall and fell.

Blinking away the confusion, I struggled to focus.

Two feet stood before me. I followed them up, where a monstrous ghoul peered down.

Unlike the others, this ghoul was gluttonous and rotund.

I flipped and crawled toward Rook, who was fending off seven of the creatures at once.

My foot snagged and my world flipped upside down.

“Liliwen!” Rook cried.

The ghoul had me by the ankle. Arms waving, I pitched back and forth, grabbing for anything.

Headstones passed on my sides. I caught one and tried to hang on.

“Ugh!” My fingers slipped from the lichen covered stone.

In the distance, Rook’s cries grew faint.

Ascending the steps, the ghoul jostled me as we entered the mausoleum.

The light dimmed.

My panic spiked and I swung at the ghoul.

My fists did little more than bounce off its fleshy back.

The ghoul headed down a staircase hidden at the rear of the mausoleum.

Step by step, the light faded. Dust and rot stung my eyes.

I covered my mouth to escape a stench that was so strong, I could tear it with my teeth.

At the bottom, the ghoul tossed me. I landed in a pile of what I hoped were just very white sticks.

Scrambling, I leapt up and ran for the stairs—for the pinprick of light up above.

I skidded to a stop and braced myself on the wall.

Like a swarm of ants, ghouls cascaded down the stairs in a wave, climbing over one another and up the walls.

Backing away, I turned to find the gluttonous ghoul staring at me.

It held a rock.

Before I could react, the opportunity to examine the rock more closely presented itself, and a force jolted my temple.

In the dark mausoleum, I collapsed.

***

When I woke, darkness held me like a blanket.

Decay hung in the air, and pain splintered my temple, echoed by a burning in my leg.

I touched my eyelids; they were indeed open.

How far down could I be that not a trickle of light found me?

My thoughts came slow and with great effort, the pain in my temple dragging them away when they almost made sense.

I remembered the ghouls, snarling and clawing, and Rook, falling under the weight of them.

Had he fared worse than me? Would he be able to find me, hidden in the depths of the mausoleum?

I squinted, trying to see anything but black.

From somewhere not far off, a growl rose.

I had to get out of here, Rook or no.

Once, and only once, I’d found myself caught in the Hollow after nightfall.

The darkness had almost destroyed me, and I’d promised I’d never be caught without a light ever again.

I felt my chest and found the leather strap of my satchel.

Feeling the strap, I pawed blindly at the flap and ties.

I withdrew a bit of iron and flint. Next, I removed a small tin.

The smoky scent of fire met me when I opened it, a welcome distraction from the aroma of rotting corpses.

I struck the flint against the iron and my heart fluttered at the brief illumination.

I struck the iron again, sending more sparks into my tin of charred twigs.

After several strikes, a warm glow remained.

Picking up the tin, I blew, encouraging the ember.

I fumbled in my satchel and found a small candle.

I set the wick against the glow and waited.

A flame sprung up and travelled along the wick.

I shut my tin, smothering the fire, and tucked it away.

I’d been put away in a small room. I shielded my candle and peered around the stone doorframe.

In both directions, the hall looked empty.

I hadn’t the faintest idea which way led out, but I swore the left smelled less foul.

I stole down the passage. With each step, my chest grew tighter—my body coiled like a spring—ready should my candle illuminate some horror waiting for me along the hall.

The wall gave way to a doorway. Brushing aside curtains of cobwebs, I peered inside.

Tables littered the room, covered in equipment similar to the physician’s room back at the castle.

Though one thing was different. This room was fitted with cages and cells.

The iron cages had long rusted, absorbing rather than reflecting my candlelight.

I approached the closest cage, illuminating the brown smears smattering the floor.

What a strange fixture in a resting place for the dead.

On the wall next to the cage, a diagram caught my eye.

A tree. Though it was no common tree. Branches tipped with blood-red fruits sprung out from the dark trunk.

One of the fruits was spliced and enlarged, so I might see the gem-like seeds nestled within.

After all these years, the red fruit had not faded.

I traced the fruit—terror shot through me and I pulled away.

It was an exact rendering of the tree hidden within the castle.

Holding my candle higher, I examined more diagrams. The first portrayed an ordinary woman, with blonde curls and a lean stature.

It was impossible not to see the smear of red in her hands, where she held the fruit.

The same woman was in the next drawing, red marred her face and stained her lips.

Her back was hunched, and her limbs slightly longer than before.

In the next, she had all four limbs on the ground, and her jaw was elongated and wide, a terrifying mix of woman and monster.

In front of the final diagram, the candlelight quivered along the wall. It was a perfect likeness to the Hound.

Rook was right; the fruit was poison.

And he’d devoured it.

When I entered the castle, I’d come so close to eating the fruit myself. How easily I could have become a monster, a victim to this place.

Wax dripped and burned my wrist. Absently, I brushed the hot wax away and turned to leave—a woman stood between me and the door, her white gown stark against the dark.

I couldn’t identify her face, for she had no face at all.

Where features might have been, there was only perfect, flat skin.

The paintings lining the castle foyer crept into my mind.

A faceless woman amongst the hounds. The candlelight flickered, and I couldn’t help but notice the woman cast no shadow.

She inched forward.

I tensed but didn’t run. Like a child observing an animal, wondering if it was a threat or not, I watched the woman approach.

The faceless woman’s presence, though unnerving, didn’t feel malicious…

yet. The woman reached out, and her delicate fingers curled around my hand, which gripped the candle so tight.

In a swirling of shadows, the mausoleum vanished, and I fell into a vision.

The faceless woman sat upon a wide throne.

Several people knelt at her feet in supplication.

Though I couldn’t see it, I knew she smiled upon their bowed heads.

Somehow, I sensed it was not a kind smile.

The faceless woman raised her arm, dragging a finger across her throat.

In seconds, those kneeling were set upon by a great hound.

The beast ripped the throats from two of the unfortunate souls—the third ran.

They made it only five paces when the beast leapt on their back.

Horror contorted the face of the man before me, so close I felt his breath against my cheeks.

The hound’s teeth wrapped his throat, and the man’s neck stretched into pink ribbons as his head was ripped from his torso.

The headless figure collapsed.

The final wheezes of those who bled to death ceased, and the hound sat beside the faceless woman. For the beast’s servitude, the woman nodded her approval.

The vision rippled, like a pebble dropped on a still lake, and changed. A floor-length mirror of gilded, tangled vines appeared. My reflection, so often characterized by an anxious frown, wore a twisted grin. I held a beating heart, and with each pulse, blood gushed down my arm.

Rook lay dead at my feet.

In his chest, a gaping hole stared up at me, bloodied and empty.

I’d used him. Convinced him to trust me, and then I’d taken his life.

Without a second thought, I’d harvested his body to save my brother.

I stared at Rook’s corpse, and a strange sensation prickled my skin.

Like someone snuggling into bed beside me on a cold night—but closer, as if they were trying to crawl into my very body.

“You and I are not so different,” came a whisper, piercing the vision. “Little Dove.”

I shook my head, fighting the intrusion. Little Dove…that was one of my nicknames—what my father used to call me in the Hollow.

The Hollow.

Get out! my body screamed. GET OUT NOW!

With great effort, I tore myself from the faceless woman’s grasp. I sprinted down the dark passageways. I had no idea where I was going, but I had to get away. I looked behind.

The faceless woman didn’t pursue me.

A faint breeze ruffled my hair, and I chased it.

The passage gave way to a large, dark opening.

My heart leapt; several yards away, a shred of sunlight fell down the mausoleum stairs.

I started toward it, then halted so abruptly I had to catch myself from falling forward.

Laying at my feet, a ghoul blended with the stone floor.

With a trembling hand, I held my candle high.

Between me and the stairs, countless ghouls lay sleeping.

A ghoul snarled and kicked in its slumber.