Reverie At River Hollow Novels & Stories

It was not a song of language. It was memory turned inside out—lullabies with reversed notes, wedding hymns sung in disjointed syllables, wolf howls looped and stitched with baby cries and ancient war drums. Those who heard it felt a deep, echoing ache behind the eyes. Some clawed at their ears. Others sat down and quietly wept without understanding why. By noon, Birch Hollow had forgotten: Its name. Its map. Its history. Its purpose. It had forgotten Emma Pineheart. It had forgotten Sterling Creek.

Hollowmere came into view without warning. One moment, the forest was endless. Next, the trees opened up to reveal a wide chasm in the earth—a steep valley hidden beneath layers of rock and shadow. At its center stood a single building, low and angular, half-buried in the earth like a scar someone tried to hide. Ivy and frost clung to its steel shell. The air was colder here. Too still. “This is it,” Evelyn murmured, lowering her binoculars. “Hollowmere.” “Doesn’t look like much,” Anika said.

And when we listened carefully, we could sometimes hear them finish the song. The Hollow Spire began to hum. Not in tone, but in sensation. A kind of gravity of presence that drew us back, again and again. It was Mikkel who first stepped into its base without resistance. His glyphs, always erratic, began to smooth into flowing curves. When he emerged, he spoke only one word: “Reversal.” “What do you mean?” Kaia asked. He touched his chest, eyes wide. “We’ve been moving forward by forgetting. The Hollow wants us to remember backward.”

And then, something miraculous. The river that had dried up years ago, a symbol of the Hollow’s curse, began to flow again. Gasps rose. Cheers followed. People ran toward the banks, splashing in the cold, clear water. It was as if the very land had been reborn. Trees that had withered began sprouting buds. Flowers bloomed out of season. The soil sang with the promise of harvest. --- Later that night, in the quiet of their home, Isabella sat by the window, writing in her journal. Arthur approached with a soft smile.

" Behind us, Jody's heart-wrenching sobs filled the air. I pushed down the last bit of pain in my chest and walked into the sunset. Chloe, from now on... Daddy is going to live a good life for you in this world. The End

Remembering. ~~~ LUCIEN’S POV (IN THE HOLLOW): The Hollow stretches before me like a mirror made of shadows. But today, the shadows feel thinner. Something presses at the edges like heat, light and maybe mt memory. I start walking without knowing where I’m going until I find myself standing before a pool. Its surface is glass, reflecting not just my face but hers. Rhea. Dragon wings and eyes of flame. Her voice is real this time and not imagined. It echoes in my chest like thunder.

And suddenly I feel it Not hunger. Not rage. Sorrow Infinite sorrow. The Hollow trembles violently. And for the first time in eternity The Devourer begins to cry too

Just… "sense. Like being drawn toward the eye of a storm. The forest dipped gradually, the ground sloping under my boots. The air grew damper, cooler. I heard water before I saw it—the faint trickle and a burble of a stream moving over stone. The trees parted in a small clearing, and there it was: the ravine. A narrow cut in the earth, ten or twelve feet down, flanked by moss‑slick rocks and tangled roots. The stream at the bottom glittered faintly in the moonlight. The air here felt thick. Charged. I stopped at the edge, heart hammering against my ribs, breath puffing white in the chill. “Too late to pretend you took a wrong turn,” I muttered. “You’d be surprised how many people try,” a voi

And somewhere in the dark valley below, the river carried on keep ing every secret, holding every moan, reflecting every star. While upstairs, they started again. Slow. Deep. Forever. Fade out.

What a fool I’d been. I went to my room for the last time. I didn’t pack a thing. What was there to take? Memories? Wounds? Those were already etched into me. When I came back to the living room, no one was there to see me off. The faint ticking of the wall clock filled the silence. A bitter laugh escaped me. It sounded hollow. Then I followed the assistant outside. A sleek black Porsche waited at the curb, gleaming like polished sin. I slid inside, the leather cold against my skin, and the tinted glass sealed me away from the world.