The Men with Torches

The forest glowed orange beyond the trees.

Dozens of lights moved between the rain-soaked pines like a trail of fireflies descending the mountain. Except fireflies did not carry iron weapons and prayers whispered through clenched teeth.

Eleanor stepped toward the broken kitchen window slowly.

Villagers.

Hunters.

Men from the nearby settlements.

At least twenty of them.

Maybe more.

Her stomach dropped.

“No…”

Alaric’s expression hardened into something unreadable.

“They should not be here.”

The words sounded calm.

Too calm.

That frightened her immediately.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the woods, revealing faces beneath dripping hoods and wide-brimmed hats. Some carried lanterns. Others carried axes. One man clutched a charm of woven rowan branches so tightly his knuckles looked bloodless.

And leading them—

Father Matthias.

Eleanor recognized the old priest instantly even through the storm.

He raised something in his hand.

A relic.

Silver and bone.

The wards surrounding Blackwood House hissed violently in response.

Alaric moved in front of Eleanor at once.

Protective instinct.

Automatic.

The shadows beneath his feet spread silently across the cracked kitchen floor.

“Stay behind me.”

Eleanor frowned immediately. “They’re human.”

His jaw tightened.

“That does not make them harmless.”

Outside, the men stopped at the edge of the property line where ancient standing stones marked the beginning of Blackwood land.

None of them crossed.

Not yet.

The priest lifted his lantern higher.

“We know what lives beneath this house!”

His voice carried through the storm unnaturally clearly.

The thing beneath the manor stirred at once.

The floor vibrated faintly under Eleanor’s feet.

Alaric’s face darkened.

“You should leave,” he called back coldly.

Several men visibly flinched at the sound of his voice.

One actually took a step backward.

Father Matthias did not.

“The Hollow King wakes,” the priest shouted. “The wards are failing across the mountain. Animals are dying in the woods. Graves have opened.”

Eleanor’s blood ran cold.

Alaric said nothing.

The silence answered enough.

Murmurs spread uneasily through the crowd.

The priest’s eyes shifted toward Eleanor then.

Not cruel.

Worried.

“Child,” he called. “Come away from him.”

Immediately, the shadows around Alaric lashed violently.

The temperature dropped hard enough that frost crept across the broken window frame.

Eleanor felt the fury surge through the bond before he even spoke.

“She is my wife.”

Every torch outside flickered.

Several went out entirely.

The men exchanged nervous looks.

Father Matthias swallowed carefully but held his ground.

“That thing beneath the house is calling to him.”

Eleanor’s chest tightened.

The priest continued:

“We sealed Blackwood for a reason.”

Lightning cracked across the sky.

And suddenly Eleanor understood something terrible.

These people knew.

Maybe not everything.

But enough.

Enough to fear the house.

Enough to fear Alaric.

Her husband stood utterly still beside her.

Beautiful.

Terrifying.

Rainwater dripping from dark hair while living shadows curled around his boots.

And yet—

He had never once harmed her.

Not once.

Even now his body remained positioned slightly in front of hers protectively.

The realization steadied her fear.

Eleanor stepped forward before he could stop her.

“Eleanor,” Alaric warned quietly.

But she ignored him.

She stared out at the frightened villagers gathered beyond the standing stones.

“You need to leave.”

Her voice shook only slightly.

Father Matthias looked genuinely saddened by her words.

“You do not understand what he is.”

Eleanor glanced once toward Alaric.

Silver eyes met hers instantly.

Worried now.

Not for himself.

For her.

Slowly, she turned back toward the crowd.

“Yes,” she said softly.

“I do.”

The entire forest went silent.

And beneath the manor—

Something laughed.