Chapter 2 — Echoes of Secrets
Sara Carter
Sara Carter stood at the kitchen sink, staring out the window toward the dark line of trees that marked the edge of Blackthorn Forest. The day had long since given way to night, and the faint outline of the forest now seemed to pulse with a life of its own under the waning moonlight. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the counter as a familiar sense of dread coiled in her chest. Liam should have been home hours ago.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. 9:47 PM. The rhythmic tick-tick-tick seemed louder than usual, filling the oppressive silence of the house. Her eyes drifted to the doorway, half expecting Liam to shuffle in with that apologetic look he wore whenever he lost track of time. But the doorway remained empty.
Something wasn’t right. Sara could feel it in her bones, in the way the air seemed heavier than usual. She had tried his phone earlier, but it had gone straight to voicemail. Ashwood was a safe enough town, but lately, safety felt like an illusion. Her instincts—honed from years of vigilance—told her this wasn’t a typical teenage rebellion.
A faint creak echoed through the house, and Sara stiffened. Her gaze darted toward the back door, but it remained shut. The silence pressed in again, heavier now, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. She turned her attention back to the window, staring at the forest’s edge where the shadows seemed to shift ever so slightly. Could she have imagined it?
Her stomach churned. She had spent too much of her life ignoring her gut, and every fiber of her being screamed now.
Her gaze flicked to the framed photo on the mantel—a much younger Liam grinning in a red flannel shirt, his arms wrapped around a shaggy golden retriever. Sara’s chest tightened. She had tried so hard to protect him, to shield him from truths too dark and dangerous for a child to carry. But the weight of those secrets had grown heavier, and no matter how fiercely she tried to maintain the illusion of normalcy, cracks had begun to form.
She turned away from the window and grabbed her jacket from the back of a chair, slipping it on with deliberate movements. Her keys hung on a hook by the door, and as her hand reached for them, it hovered for a moment.
Don’t go out there, Sara. You know what’s waiting.
The memory hit her like a blow: her husband’s silhouette disappearing into those same woods, shadows swallowing him whole. She had ignored her instincts that night, too, telling herself he’d come back. He hadn’t.
She couldn’t make the same mistake now.
With a deep breath, she grabbed the keys and stepped out the door, the cold air hitting her like a slap.
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The air was sharp with the bite of pine and damp earth, filling her senses as she climbed into her old truck. The engine sputtered to life with a reluctant roar, and the headlights carved weak tunnels of light through the darkness as she pulled out of the driveway and onto the winding road that led toward Blackthorn Forest.
The drive was short, mercifully so, but it gave her just enough time for her mind to wander to places she’d rather avoid. She thought of the first time she’d heard the whispers—soft, haunting voices carried on the wind that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere. Her husband had dismissed them, but she’d never forgotten. Now, as the forest loomed closer, she thought she heard them again, faint and fleeting.
The truck came to a halt at the edge of the forest, its headlights illuminating the gnarled trunks of trees that looked older than time itself. Sara killed the engine and stepped out, immediately engulfed by the dense quiet of the woods. It was the kind of silence that pressed against your ears, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional distant chirp of a bird. She shivered, pulling her jacket tighter around herself.
“Liam,” she called, her voice barely more than a whisper. She didn’t dare yell, not here, where things that shouldn’t exist might hear her.
She moved carefully, her boots crunching against the uneven forest floor. The flashlight in her hand carved narrow beams of light through the darkness, revealing little more than the endless stretch of trees. As she ventured deeper, a strange unease settled over her, the air growing colder and heavier. The forest felt alive, its shadows shifting just out of reach.
It wasn’t long before she found the first sign. A tattered piece of fabric snagged on a low-hanging branch—a scrap of Liam’s hoodie. Sara’s breath caught, and she reached out to touch it, her hand trembling. It was damp from the lingering dew, but the sight of it filled her with equal parts relief and terror. He had been here. He wasn’t far.
“Liam!” she called again, louder this time, her voice carrying through the trees. The forest answered with silence.
Pushing forward, she came across more signs—broken branches, disturbed leaves, claw marks etched into the bark of a tree. She froze at the sight of those marks, her stomach twisting into knots. They were deep, jagged, too deliberate to be the work of an animal. Her flashlight flickered, the beam sputtering weakly before steadying again. Her mind raced, the memory of her husband’s disappearance flashing before her. She remembered finding similar marks that night—marks she had convinced herself were meaningless.
And then she heard it—a low, guttural sound, somewhere between a growl and a whimper. It came from up ahead, where the trees gave way to a small clearing bathed in silver moonlight. The whispers surged briefly, louder now, before fading to nothing. Sara’s heart pounded as she moved toward the sound, her flashlight’s beam bouncing erratically.
What she saw stopped her dead in her tracks.
Liam was there, huddled on the ground at the center of the clearing. But it wasn’t him—not entirely. His body was hunched and trembling, his hands half-shifted into clawed, fur-covered monstrosities. His face remained mostly human, but his eyes were wild, glowing faintly green in the moonlight. He was gasping for air, his breaths labored and uneven, as though he were fighting something from within.
“Liam,” Sara breathed, her voice cracking. She took a cautious step forward, then another. “It’s me. It’s Mom.”
His head snapped up, and for a moment, she thought he didn’t recognize her. His glowing eyes narrowed, his lips pulling back to reveal teeth that were sharper than they should have been. A low growl rumbled from his chest, primal and unrestrained. Sara’s heart hammered, but she forced herself to stay calm.
This was her son. Beneath whatever this was, he was still her boy.
She knelt slowly, keeping her movements measured and deliberate. “It’s okay, Liam,” she said softly, her voice trembling but steady. “I’m here. You’re safe. Remember when you were little, and you’d hide under the table during storms? I’d hum that silly song, and you’d always feel better.”
Liam’s growl softened into a whimper. His clawed hands gripped the earth as though anchoring himself, his entire body shuddering. Sara realized he was trying to fight it—to hold onto whatever pieces of himself he could.
Without thinking, she began to hum. The melody wavered at first, her voice unsteady, but as the notes filled the clearing, something shifted. Liam’s breathing slowed, the tension in his body easing slightly. His claws retracted, the fur receding from his arms. His glowing eyes dimmed, and for a moment, he looked at her—truly looked at her—with the same vulnerability she’d seen in him as a little boy.
“Mom...” he croaked, his voice strained and barely audible.
“I’m here, Liam,” she said, tears streaming down her face as she crawled toward him. She wrapped her arms around his trembling form, pulling him close. He collapsed against her, his body shaking with exhaustion. She could feel his heartbeat pounding against her chest, frantic and uneven.
For a long moment, they stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms as the forest seemed to hold its breath around them. Sara whispered words of comfort, her fingers stroking his hair as she rocked him gently. When she finally dared to look up, the clearing was empty, save for them. Whatever had been watching, whatever had been hunting—it was gone.
But Sara knew this was only the beginning. The secrets she had buried, the truths she had tried so hard to hide—they were surfacing now, and there would be no burying them again.
As dawn broke over Blackthorn Forest, casting its pale light through the trees, Sara helped Liam to his feet. His human form had returned, though scratches and bruises marred his skin. He leaned heavily on her as they made their way back toward the truck, his steps faltering but steadying with each passing moment.
Sara didn’t look back at the forest as they left. She didn’t need to. Whatever lay ahead, she knew one thing for certain: their lives would never be the same.
