the sacrifice stone

Nathaniel stood frozen before the ancient stone altar, the weight of its presence pressing down on him. The air was thick, heavy with a sense of something forgotten, something buried deep within the forest's heart. His breath came in shallow gasps as he stared at the altar, his thoughts a chaotic whirl. The scratches on the stone seemed to shimmer in the dim light, as though they were more than just marks left by time. They felt like a warning, like an invitation to something he wasn't ready to understand.

The whispers had stopped, leaving only the quiet rustling of leaves in the distance. In this place, everything seemed still, almost expectant, as if the forest itself was holding its breath. Nathaniel's mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle. He had come here looking for answers about his brother, but now he was confronted with something far more sinister. This was no ordinary altar. This was a place of sacrifice.

He reached out, his hand trembling as it hovered just above the stone. Something deep within him pulled him closer, urging him to touch it, to understand what had happened here. His fingers brushed against the cold surface, and a jolt of energy shot up his arm, the sensation unlike anything he had ever felt. It wasn't painful, but it was disorienting, like a connection had been made, a bridge opened between him and something else.

For a moment, the world around him seemed to shift. The air thickened, and the shadows deepened, curling like smoke around him. He blinked, his heart racing, and the vision cleared. But something had changed. The forest felt different now, darker, older. He could almost hear the distant echoes of footsteps, the soft scrape of something moving just beyond his line of sight. But when he turned, there was nothing there.

He backed away from the altar, his hand instinctively reaching for the handle of his flashlight. The beam cut through the darkness, illuminating the symbols carved into the stone. As he examined them, he realized they were not just random markings; they were part of a pattern, a ritualistic design. The symbols seemed to form a circle, a protective seal. But what were they protecting? And from what?

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft, creaking sound—a groan, as though the earth itself was shifting beneath him. Nathaniel's eyes snapped to the ground. The earth near the altar seemed to be moving, subtly, as if something was stirring just below the surface.

He knelt down, running his fingers through the loose soil, and gasped when he uncovered something cold and smooth. A small, circular stone, its surface etched with similar symbols to the ones on the altar. It was heavy in his hand, unnaturally so, and as he turned it over, a faint glow emanated from within the grooves of the symbols, casting an eerie light across his face.

"Where did you come from?" Nathaniel whispered to himself, his voice cracking in the sudden silence.

He stood up, his mind racing. What was this stone? Why was it buried here, just beneath the altar? The whispers had faded, but the weight of the moment settled in his chest, suffocating. His brother's voice echoed faintly in his mind, the words he'd spoken in the forest, in the clearing near the oak tree.

You have to remember what happened that night.

Nathaniel's hand tightened around the stone, his fingers digging into the cool surface. He felt something—something beyond the physical weight of the stone. There was a presence attached to it, a connection that stretched back to that fateful night, to the memory he could never fully recall.

A sudden movement caught his eye, and Nathaniel's head snapped up, his heart racing. The shadows between the trees shifted, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw something—someone—standing just beyond the clearing. But when he blinked, the figure was gone, leaving only the darkness of the woods in its place.

The stone pulsed in his hand, almost as if it were calling to him, urging him to follow. His heart hammered in his chest, and for a moment, he considered turning back, leaving this place and never looking back. But something inside him—a need, a compulsion—kept him rooted to the spot. He had come this far. There was no going back now.

With one last look at the altar, he tucked the stone into his pocket and began to move deeper into the forest, drawn by the pull of the unknown. Every step felt heavier than the last, as though the forest was closing in around him. The path ahead was unclear, but he could feel the pull of something, a presence guiding him, leading him further into the heart of the darkness.

And then, as he moved deeper into the woods, he heard it again. A voice, faint but unmistakable.

Nathaniel…

It was his brother's voice, but it sounded wrong, distorted, as though it were being pulled through a long, dark tunnel. Nathaniel's pulse quickened as he pressed on, driven by an overwhelming need to find the source of the voice, to understand what had happened all those years ago.

The trees around him began to thin, the darkness giving way to a faint light that seemed to pulse from within the forest itself. There, at the edge of the clearing, Nathaniel saw something—a shape, a figure, standing motionless in the pale light. His breath caught in his throat as he stepped closer, his heart pounding in his chest.

The figure was his brother, or at least, it looked like his brother. But there was something wrong about it, something off.

"Nathaniel," the figure spoke, its voice barely a whisper, "you shouldn't have come."

A chill ran down Nathaniel's spine, and every instinct screamed at him to turn and run, to flee from this place and never look back. But something kept him rooted to the spot, the stone in his pocket growing warmer, almost burning against his skin.

"Who are you?" Nathaniel asked, his voice trembling with fear. "What's happening here?"

The figure didn't answer. Instead, it raised a hand, pointing to the ground before it. Nathaniel's eyes followed, and there, beneath the fading light, he saw what the figure had been pointing at—a grave, recently disturbed, its earth freshly overturned.

And as he stepped forward, the truth hit him like a blow to the chest.

This was no ordinary grave.

This was his brother's grave.