The morning after her harrowing discovery, Erin’s pursuit of understanding led her to the quiet refuge of the local library. Determined to arm herself with knowledge against the looming threat, she buried herself among ancient texts and modern treatises, piling her table high with books on mythology, occult practices, and religious exegesis. Each volume added to her fortress of paper and ink, a bulwark against the unknown.
“Quite the eclectic collection you’ve amassed,” a voice commented, tinted with a curious accent that Erin couldn’t quite place.
Turning sharply, Erin found herself facing a woman whose presence seemed almost otherworldly. Her eyes, a stormy blend of gray and green, suggested depths unfathomable. She was introduced by her name tag as Helen, the librarian, yet her attire spoke of ages past—flowing skirts, an embroidered blouse, and a pendant that bore the distinct marks of an ancient talisman.
“Do I know you?” Erin asked, her voice edged with caution.
“Not yet,” Helen responded, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. “But your choice of literature—legends, apocalypses—suggests you’re either bracing for the end of days or have a penchant for the macabre.”
Chills traced Erin’s spine, tinged with the unsettling sensation that Helen was more aware than she appeared. “I’m looking for something… specific,” Erin conceded, opting for guarded honesty.
“Aren’t we all?” Helen mused, her gaze sharpening. “Your quest wouldn’t happen to involve a certain crater, would it?”
Erin’s heart thudded ominously. “How do you know about that?”
Ensuring their solitude with a glance, Helen leaned in, her voice a whisper of confidences. “I know that some gates, once opened, unleash things that ought to have remained hidden. And I know the path you’re on is fraught with dangers you can scarcely imagine.”
Stunned, Erin managed, “Who are you?”
“Once, I stood where you stand now, peering into the same abyss,” Helen confided, her tone heavy with ancient grief. “It cost me dearly, yet it also granted insights few ever glimpse.”
“What should I do?” Erin’s question was barely a breath.
Helen’s expression grew inscrutable. “The answer is never simple. But you will find clues where least expected—in tales dismissed as mere stories. Look beyond the obvious, delve into the realms of the forgotten.”
With a graceful motion, Helen retrieved a neglected book from a lower shelf and presented it to Erin. Its cover was plain, yet inside, Erin found a treasure trove of local myths, including a section titled ‘Cursed Sites and Their Origins.’
“Begin here,” Helen advised solemnly. “But beware, for knowledge is as perilous as it is potent. Ensure you are ready for the road ahead.”
“Thank you,” Erin replied, her mind racing with the gravity of their exchange.
With a knowing smile, Helen offered, “We will meet again, Erin Kamoche. Until then, let fate unfold as it must. Each choice leads you deeper; just be sure it’s a path you are prepared to follow to its end.”
With those cryptic parting words, Helen drifted back into the labyrinth of shelves, leaving Erin alone with her thoughts and the heavy tome in her hands—a tome that felt like the key to a door she was only now ready to open.
This was not merely a quest for answers; it was the beginning of a journey that promised enlightenment and peril in equal measure. As Helen’s words echoed in her mind, Erin realized with a mix of dread and resolve that she was now entwined in a narrative far greater and more dangerous than any she had ever imagined.
Not. The. End.
MADD FICTIONAL 