In the small village of Eldergrove, situated on the edge of a dense, sprawling forest known as Blackwood, autumn brought with it a chill that seeped into bone and spirit alike. The air was thick with fog, thick enough that one could feel the tendrils of mist tugging at one’s coat as if trying to pull one deeper into the woods. The villagers spoke in hushed tones about the Huntsman—an elusive spectre that roamed the trees when darkness fell, his presence marked by the low, haunting whispers that clawed at the edges of sanity.
Evelyn, a young woman whose curiosity often led her into trouble, had grown up with tales of the Huntsman. She was captivated by the mysteries of the forest, and while the warnings of her grandmother echoed in her mind— “Never stray too far, my dear. The Huntsman prowls under the guise of night”—Evelyn felt a pull that was far too tempting to resist. The deeper she delved into the woods, the more she felt the forest calling to her, its depths promising answers to questions as ancient as time itself.
As October approached its end, the village prepared for the annual harvest festival, but Evelyn felt an urgency to explore the forest before the celebratory chaos ensued. She awoke early one crisp Saturday morning, determined to unearth the secrets of Blackwood. With a cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders, she set off, the twilight sky overhead blending ominously into shades of grey and ochre.
The trails through the trees were familiar, yet with every step deeper into the forest, the air took on a weight that pressed against her chest. The trees, gnarled and old, whispered amongst themselves, an eerie rustle that sent prickles up her spine. Evelyn paused, shaking off the urge to turn back. “It’s only the wind,” she murmured to herself, bolstered by her own resolve.
After a time, the foliage thickened, drowning out the sounds of the village until all that remained was the soft crunch of fallen leaves beneath her boots and the distant call of rooks. A peculiar stillness hung over the path, a silence almost tangible, that made her skin crawl. It was there, among the ancient trunks, that she first heard it—a faint whisper, fleeting and seductive, carried on the breeze. “Come closer, Evelyn…”
The voice seemed to weave through the trees, a gentle coaxing that filled her with both dread and intrigue. Was it simply her mind playing tricks, or had the stories of the Huntsman taken a frightening turn? Shaking her head vigorously, she pressed on, the whispers becoming an echo in the back of her mind.
Hours slipped away, and with each moment that passed, the daylight waned, casting elongated shadows that danced on the forest floor. It was then that she stumbled upon a clearing—a fantastical sight of lush green that appeared untouched by time. In the centre stood a weathered stone altar, the mossy surface adorned with twisted roots and strange, unnatural symbols. Evelyn approached, a knot of apprehension tightening in her stomach. She reached out, brushing her fingers over the carvings, feeling an unsettling warmth radiate from the stone.
As she examined the altar, the whispers grew louder, fabricating words that filled her heart with both fright and fascination. They beckoned to her, promising secrets long buried. “The Huntsman awaits… he seeks what was lost…”
Suddenly, the wind roared to life, swirling around the clearing and casting leaves into a frenzied dance. Fear seized her; she turned to leave, but her legs felt heavy, as if bound to the earth. And then she saw him—a figure emerging from the shadows at the edge of the clearing. Tall and imposing, with eyes like molten silver, the Huntsman stood clad in dark leather, his features obscured by shadow. An antlered crown sat atop his head, adding a primal majesty to his terrifying presence.
“Evelyn,” he spoke, the sound resonating in the depths of her soul. His voice was smooth, like silk woven with a hint of darkness. “You have come seeking answers. Come, and I shall show you the truth.”
Instinct called for flight, yet an irresistible compulsion rooted her in place. “What truth?” she whispered, the words slipping from her lips before she could catch them.
“The truth of your lineage,” the Huntsman replied, stepping into the fading light, revealing his face—a beauty that sent a shiver of allure creeping through her veins. “Your bloodline is entwined with this forest. You are part of something far greater than you know.”
The forest trembled around her, shadows flickering and morphing as if alive. “You have been brought here for a reason. The cycle must continue.”
Evelyn squirmed under his gaze, an ancient weight pressing down on her consciousness. “What do you mean?” she trembled, the red tint of dusk creeping over her surroundings.
“The pact is binding. Each autumn, a soul must be claimed to satiate the hunger of Blackwood. You are chosen.”
With his words, the whispers spiralled into a cacophony, saturating the air with fear and lament. Shapes began to form in the shadows, spectral figures with hollow eyes and mournful expressions. They reached for her, their hands languid, like tendrils of smoke longing to reclaim what they had lost.
“No!” she gasped, stumbling backwards. The clearing shifted, the altar looming larger than life. “I don’t want any part of this!”
The Huntsman’s smile was both feral and sad. “It is not a matter of choice, child. It is your birthright. The forest remembers… it remembers what was taken.”
Before she could comprehend the significance, the ground beneath her began to tremble, roots writhing like serpents. Evelyn turned and sprinted, the whispers transforming into anguished wails as she fled. Her heart pounded, each beat a frantic drum urging her to escape the fate that awaited her in the forest’s depths.
As she ran, branches snagged at her clothing, and the shadows twisted and lurched, seeming to reach out, attempting to pull her back to the altar. She could feel the Huntsman behind her, a cold presence haunting every step. She burst through the trees, stumbling into a path she almost recognised, breath coming in desperate gasps.
The village came into view, lantern light flickering like a beacon of hope against the encroaching darkness. But impending dread churned in her gut; she knew the truth would follow her home. The whispers grew distant as she neared her cottage, the soft sighs of the forest replaced by shouts of celebration.
Breathless, she pushed the door open. Her grandmother sat by the fire, knitting as if nothing were amiss, the flickering flames casting a warm glow over the room. But the woman’s eyes, oh those eyes, were ancient and knowing, bearing the weight of countless secrets. “You’ve ventured too far, haven’t you, my dear?” she asked knowingly.
Evelyn felt terror bloom in her chest, her pulse quickening as she sank into a chair opposite her grandmother. “What have I gotten into? The Huntsman—he says I’m chosen.”
Her grandmother’s face paled as she dropped the knitting into her lap, her fingers trembling. “We knew this day would come. The blood flows deep, Evelyn. The pact—”
“The forest demands a sacrifice,” Evelyn whispered, horrified. “But why me?”
“Because you are of the line that binds us to this place. If you refuse, the forest will take what is not given voluntarily. It will reclaim its due.”
“Then I must leave, we must leave!” Evelyn cried, desperation clawing at her throat. “We cannot remain in Eldergrove! I won’t allow it!”
“You cannot run from your own blood,” her grandmother murmured, eyes filled with sorrow. “The forest will always find you.”
As night enveloped the village, an ominous wind howled through the streets, echoing with murmurs of the past. Outside, the trees twisted against the moonlight, and in that moment, with the shadows creeping closer, Evelyn understood. The Huntsman would come for her, whether she desired it or not.
The whispers grew louder, filling the chambers of her heart with dread. The Huntsman threaded himself through her thoughts, each echo a reminder that there was no escape from the legacy of Blackwood, its secrets buried deep in the shadows of her soul. In the dark corners of her mind, he waited, patient and calculating, ready to collect what was owed.
And as the haunted moon watched from above, casting a pale light over her world, Evelyn sank into the realisation that the forest would never be done with her. The night had only just begun.
