LOGINAfter Varethkaal is sealed, Clara and Ashani uncover evidence that WildWood was only one node in a network of ancient, sleeping powers. The roots of these dark entities—known to the Yanuwah as the Deep Ones—spread beneath ley lines and forgotten places. Now, something has begun to stir in the northwest, near a coastal town where strange weather, disappearances, and madness are creeping inland. Emily’s spirit lingers, tethered to the new node… and a child, born near the ruins, may carry a seed of the old darkness.
View MoreEthan's P.O.V
As a Master's graduate from the University of Montana, I felt thoroughly insulted when I was recommended Imphal High School as my first choice of schools and to top it of, as a teacher of chemistry.
Not only was I a Bio major, I had to go teach in Imphal, a matchbox sized town bordering Montana. Somehow, I feel like Edward Cullen hightailing out of the city so the sun doesn't scorch his ass, but unlike Forks from Twilight with its population of 3,120 people, Imphal's population ranges between a bare minimum of 1,300 to 1,800 people. Not to mention there wasn't even an airport or railway station in sight.
The bus ride from Butte, Gold West Country, Montana took me almost 10 hours. Ten treacherous hours of admiring nature at her wildest and gloomiest overnight. So it was a relief when the bus finally pulled up at the station and I got a first glimpse of the town. Bright and sunny and totally not what I'd expected.
Here people didn't seem distant. Everyone greeted everyone with a smile. Quite a few of them was directed my way by giggly teens who most probably studied at the High School I was about to teach. I smirked, shaking my head as I pushed past them with my backpack slung over my shoulders, as their expression turned from hopeful to rueful. 'Be seeing you around', I thought to myself as I made my way to a cab that'd take me to Imphal High.
*
*"Welcome, Mr. Whitmore. We've heard a lot about you from your teachers." Mr. Jeremy Bennett, the principal greeted me as soon as I walked through his cabin doors.
"Good things I hope." I took a seat opposite to his when he motioned me to.
"I'm afraid one doesn't exist without the other." He leaned back in his chair and looked directly at me. He seemed like one of those people you hate or love as much as you want but you simply can't ignore. "I also heard you were quite reluctant to teach here. Why is that?"
"With all due respect Sir, I have nothing against teaching, but for someone who has spent most of their life in Montana...it's difficult to teach in such a small town." There was no need lying, we could work better if I get all my cards out on the table.
"I see," he shrugged. "Fair enough. But since you are here," he pushed forward a blue file in my direction, "why not stay here for a year and then decide if you want to renew your contract or not."
I opened the file and quickly filled up the form inside. He was right, since I was already here, there was no use playing hard to get and a year's contract is going to be the shortest I'll get.
"Thank you, Mr. Whitmore, I'm sure you won't regret your decision." He gave me a folder envelope from a drawer next to him. "This has your appointment letter and the book list of all the books you'll need for this year but for the time being, you can borrow them from our library until you're settled in. Since you're a Masters graduate, you'll be teaching the seniors this year as a trainee teacher. Good luck, Mr. Whitmore and I hope to see you tomorrow."
"Thank you, Mr. Bennett." I shook his outstretched hand and
*
*"This is your schedule, Mr. Whitmore. Good luck on your first day."
"Thank you", I took the piece of paper from the Principal's Secretary and went in search of my classroom. They had permanent classrooms for each subject, not just practical's but theory as well.
It was near the main hallway that I first saw her and something about her just had me rooted to my spot. The main reason for that may very well be her scarlet hair that stood out like a beacon amongst the crowd, made you notice her. Even the baggy clothes she had on couldn't falter my attention. And that is usually a major turn off for me.
She seemed to be in some important conversation with a brunette guy standing next to her. And from his body language, it was clear as day that the guy was into her, while she looked like she has friendzoned him completely. That's interesting.
"Hi there!"
Startled, I looked down at a young girl of about 17 or 18, caked with makeup, clothes down to near zero and hair a dull platinum blonde. "Yes?"
"You must be new here. Aren't you a little old to be attending school?" She batted her eyelashes, folding her arms in such a way that her breasts nearly spilled out of her top....if you could call it that.
"You're right. I'm looking for the chemistry class." I told her, taking a small step backwards. But her cunning little smirk told me that she noticed the move.
"Oh, I can take you there! I'll even give you a tour of the entire school." Does she seriously think I'm a student?
"Just the Chemistry class will be enough, thank you." I said politely.
I followed behind her, averting my eyes to the hallway as she purposely swayed her hips provocatively and kept glancing back at me. Thankfully, it wasn't long before we reached my class.
"Thank you." I stepped inside the classroom without a backward glance and realized my mistake only after I heard the door shut and lock behind me. "What are you doing?" I turned to face her, crossing my arms across my chest.
"Me? We are simply about to do what two people do in a closed room." She removed her bag and placed it on a nearby desk.
"Oh really?" I raised an eyebrow at her. "Because I'm having a strong urge to call the principal and showing him exactly what happens behind closed doors in this school."
"Come now," she came up to me and wrapped her hands around my neck, the strong smell of her perfume giving me an instant headache. "You're not going to play hard to get now, are you? Why would the Princi bother about what the urges of two students?"
"One student and a teacher." I removed her hands easily as she stood gaping at me. "My name is Ethan Whitmore and I'm the new chemistry teacher. Now, if you do not want to be suspended from school, you will get out of this room immediately."
Her shock turned to anger as she stepped back hastily and picked up her bag. "How dare you!" He screeched. "You're going to regret this, Mark my words."
With that, she flung the door open and stomped out of the class.
Thankfully, the hallway was still empty, but I had a feeling that my reputation wasn't going to be as spotless as it was.
So much for a fresh star.
Akira's P.O.V
Dear Diary,
I can't believe I just wrote that! But since I already did, I might as well get this over and done with.
I'm a good girl, I swear. I finish my homework way before time. Eat my veggies without complaint (my sister is an awesome cook, by the way). I don't have a boyfriend and I've never kissed or had sex with anyone....okay, so one kiss on the cheeks in a game of truth or dare doesn't count. I'm a straight A's student and all the teachers love me. No really!
So then, why did I suddenly decide to write down my frustrating life story you ask? Because I feel like I'm about to turn into a very, very bad girl. The reason for that you ask? Ethan Whitmore.
He joined last week as a trainee teacher for the senior classes. I'm still a junior, so I'm not in his class yet, but be still my breaking heart! I've only two more months till I'm a senior, until my eighteenth birthday and then I can have a whole of 45 minutes to have wet dreams about him.
But according to the rumour mill, he's not as clean as he looks. Apparently, he started sleeping with the Bee's the instant he stepped foot into the school. But instead of reporting him to the police, everyone's waiting for their turn to come. Even some of the boys who hope that he miraculously turns out to be gay or at least bi.
But character sketch aside, he really does make me want to be the next girl on his list. Thank you to whoever is upstairs, for finally sending a hot teacher to our school. I have a feeling that his lessons are going to be just mind blowing!
Hey! That's a great idea! Why don't I write it down? About a sexy blonde teacher having sex on top of his desk? Or kitchen counter? Hmmm. Such tempting ideas. Wonder what I should write first. And there's also this new writing competition coming up for that town magazine. Maybe I can enter it there as a prank. Wish I could see their reaction when they read my work. They'd probably fall off their chair in horror.
This is gonna be so much fun! Can't wait to get started.
#####################
Disclaimer: Please note that this is just a story and it doesn't define how any kind of relationship should be. This story is purely fictional and does not have any connection to any actual story or any persons lives.
The light behind them dimmed until it was nothing but a distant pulse—like a dying heartbeat echoing through ancient stone. The tunnel before them sloped downward into the earth, the walls carved with unfamiliar script—part Yanuwah, part something older. Each glyph shimmered faintly when passed, as if responding to Clara’s touch, or the key Elias held. The deeper they went, the more the air changed. It was no longer stale but humid, heavy with the scent of moss, wet stone, and something sweet and metallic—sap, maybe, or blood that remembered sunlight. The ground shifted beneath their feet—no longer stone but root. Interwoven tendrils stretched out like veins in a sleeping beast. None of them spoke much. The weight of what they’d seen—the visions of the past, the unraveling of the pact between human and forest, and the twisted legacy of the Yanuwah—lingered like a film on their skin. Clara led, one hand on the tunnel’s side, her mind caught between the present and something larger
The Coast of Choices – Temple of the Second Tide The waters had turned red again. High Priestess Maelira stood barefoot in the salt-ringed chamber, watching the waves pulse against the black stones outside. The elders knelt in concentric circles around her, heads bowed low, their voices locked in a chant older than the current moon’s cycle. But her attention was elsewhere—beneath. She could feel the stirring. A resonance from Hollow Ridge. A cracking beneath the old seals. The long-promised convergence of the Yanuwah bloodline had begun again—and someone, somewhere, had crossed the threshold. A young acolyte entered the chamber, her robes soaked with rain. She approached the dais and bent to whisper. “The Root gate has been breached.” A long pause. Maelira didn’t speak, but her grip tightened on the staff carved from driftbone and inlaid with bone-colored pearl. “Then we are out of time.” She turned to the elders. “Summon the Eel-Knights. Prepare the Eyes of Salt. If the C
The stairs groaned beneath their feet—worn, soft stone layered in moss and moisture. Water dripped from unseen cracks in the ceiling. It smelled not of the sea, but of something older: deep earth, blood, and bone long turned to dust. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the rhythmic sound of footsteps and the distant hiss of wind threading through hollow tunnels. Clara walked first, her blade drawn, its bone handle warm in her hand. She didn’t speak. Her senses were wide open, tuned to every shift in the darkness. She’d been in ruins before—WildWood had taught her that sacred places were never truly empty—but this was something else. Hollow Ridge was not dead. It was sleeping. And it was beginning to stir. Behind her, Elias carried the scroll pouch close to his chest. He muttered to himself in the Yanuwah tongue, tracing glyphs on the walls as they passed. The marks glowed faintly beneath his touch—brief flares of blue and silver that disappeared a moment later. Each one marke
The coastal winds had sharpened. Not like the storms of WildWood—thick with rot and madness—but cold, vast, and ancient. They cut through bone and memory both, bringing with them the whisper of salt-born secrets and voices long buried beneath tide and stone. Clara stood near the edge of the sea cliffs, her coat snapping behind her, eyes locked on the narrow trail that wound down into the yawning gullet of Hollow Ridge. Below, seafoam boiled between jagged rocks like breath escaping a leviathan’s lungs. Behind her, Elias checked the glyphs burned into the spine of the travel scroll, muttering Yanuwah incantations under his breath. He was younger than either of them but aged from within—marked by loss, burdened by the expectations of a bloodline he had only just begun to understand. Emily sat on a smooth boulder farther up the path, head tilted toward the ocean. Her hair was damp with mist, her fingers tracing the small woven charm she now wore around her neck. It was the last gift
Terrell Territory – Autumn, 1843 The forest was quieter in those days—more alive, but less cruel. The trees still whispered, yes, but it was more like breath than warning. Even so, the elders walked its borders with caution, their feet never venturing too deep without the proper rites. WildWood ha
The thick fog wove around Clara’s boots as she stepped carefully through the gnarled underbrush. The air was heavy with dampness and an unshakable sense of waiting. Somewhere ahead, beneath the sprawling canopy, the Weeping Tree stood like a sentinel guarding secrets too old to speak aloud. Beside
The boy had no name. At least, not one he remembered. He knew only the rhythm of the waves, the cold press of wind on his skin, and the haunting song that came every night with the tide. The villagers had taken to calling him “Drift,” after the old man found him lying facedown in a driftwood crad
The humming deep within the chamber had begun to rise, vibrating through bone and root. Emily stood with her eyes closed, her fingertips hovering just above the black surface of the Seed’s pool. Light shimmered faintly within the water—gentle, uncertain, like a flicker of memory daring to burn agai






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