I. The Return
Josh descended from the tower, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it wanted to burst from his chest. The fog had engulfed the city. The streets were empty. No cars, no people. Only the yellow light of a lamppost blinking, like a tired eye.
He didn't know how he got home. He only remembered locking the door, drinking a glass of water that tasted salty, and throwing himself onto the bed.
His father wasn't there. Again.
His mother... was never there.
Josh picked up the notebook he'd bought at the school supply store—black, plain, nameless. He opened it to the first page and wrote:
Today, I saw seven people who don't know me, but know me better than I know myself.
Today, a letter appeared in my locker without me having touched it.
Today, a voice sang inside my skull.
Today, I heard a story that shouldn't exist.
And now...
I believe.
He closed the notebook.
And then...
...something hit the window.
II. The Faceless Figure
Josh turned around.
The window was closed.
The curtain, still.
But there was a stain.
A dark stain, as if someone had pressed their face against the glass.
And then...
The stain moved.
It rose.
And transformed.
Into a figure.
Tall.
Very tall.
With slumped shoulders.
Faceless.
Just emptiness.
And in that emptiness...
There were two lines.
Two thin lines.
As if they were...
eyes.
And a curved line.
As if it were...
a mouth.
The figure didn't move.
It didn't breathe.
It didn't blink.
But it was smiling.
And then, in a low voice, as if whispering directly into Josh's brain, she said:
"Are you ready to hear the first story, Josh?"
Josh didn't answer.
He couldn't.
The figure stretched out a hand.
And in the palm of the hand...
There was a piece of paper.
A piece of parchment.
With the same symbol as the book cover.
And a single sentence, written in blood:
WELCOME TO THE MIDNIGHT CIRCLE.
THE STORY BEGINS NOW.
And then, the figure disappeared.
The window was clean.
The night, silent.
Josh looked at the ground.
The paper was there.
He picked it up.
And when he read...
*"Once upon a time, there was a boy who didn't believe in stories...
But he believed...
And that's what killed him."*
Josh fell backward. And in the silence of the night, he heard the sound of footsteps.
Slow.
On the stairs.
Going up.
To his room.
II. The Faceless Figure
Josh turned around.
The window was closed.
The curtain, still.
But there was a stain.
A dark stain, as if someone had pressed their face against the glass.
And then...
The stain moved.
It rose.
And transformed.
Into a figure.
Tall.
Very tall.
With slumped shoulders.
Faceless.
Just emptiness.
And in that emptiness...
There were two lines.
Two thin lines.
As if they were...
eyes.
And a curved line.
As if it were...
a mouth.
The figure didn't move.
It didn't breathe.
It didn't blink.
But it was smiling.
And then, in a low voice, as if whispering directly into Josh's brain, it said:
"Are you ready to hear the first story, Josh?"
Josh didn't answer.
He couldn't.
The figure stretched out its hand.
And in the palm of its hand...
There was a piece of paper.
A piece of parchment.
With the same symbol as the book's cover.
And a single sentence, written in blood:
WELCOME TO THE MIDNIGHT CIRCLE.
THE STORY BEGINS NOW.
And then, the figure disappeared.
The window was clean.
The night, silent.
Josh looked at the floor.
The paper was there.
He picked it up.
And when he read...
*"Once upon a time, there was a boy who didn't believe in stories...
But he did believe...
And that's what killed him."*
Josh fell backward.
And in the silence of the night, he heard the sound of footsteps.
Slow.
On the stairs.
Going up.
To his room. III. The Door
Josh ran to the door.
Locked.
He peered through the crack.
Nothing.
But then...
A voice.
Familiar.
It was Ethan.
"Josh..."
"Open the door."
"We won't hurt you."
"But... if you don't open it..."
"...whatever is behind the door... will get in anyway."
Josh swallowed hard.
He didn't know if Ethan was outside.
Or if it was something pretending to be Ethan.
He looked at the paper in his hand.
And then...
The writing on the page began to move.
The words disappeared.
And were replaced by others.
New ones.
Written by a hand that wasn't his.
*"You can't run from history, Josh.
Because you're already in it.
From the first day you set foot in Duskwood.
You just didn't know it."*
And then…
The bedroom door…
began to open.
Slowly.
Without a touch.
Without wind.
As if something were…
pushing it.
IV. The Other Josh
Josh backed up to the wall.
The room was dark.
But the moonlight…
The moonlight was wrong.
It wasn't coming in through the window.
It was coming in…
under the door.
And under the door…
There were shadows.
But they weren't ordinary shadows.
They were shadows with fingers.
And they were crawling.
Slowly.
Walking.
Upwards.
As if someone were climbing the wall.
Josh didn't scream.
He didn't breathe.
He only whispered:
"Who... who are you?"
The shadow stopped.
And then...
The voice that wasn't Ethan's.
Nor anyone he knew.
The voice that came from inside the wall, the wood, the earth, the house itself...
...answered.
"I am what you described...
...when you didn't know you were describing it."
And then...
The door opened completely.
And on the threshold...
It was him.
Josh.
But it wasn't him.
It was a version of him.
Older.
Palier.
With empty eyes.
With his mouth open, as if he were screaming...
...but without sound.
And in his hand...
...he held a notebook.
The same notebook Josh had in his hand.
And on the cover, written in blood:
MIDNIGHT HOLLOW CHRONICLES — CHAPTER 1: THE BOY WHO DIDN'T KNOW HE WAS ALREADY DEAD.
And the other Josh...
...smiled.
And said:
"You've arrived."
And then...
The light went out.
V. The Mark
Josh woke up on the floor.
The room was normal.
The door was closed.
The notebook... was on the table.
He opened it.
The page was blank.
But when he touched the sheet...
The words appeared.
As if they had been written by an invisible hand.
"You didn't dream."
"You never dreamed."
"You were called."
"And you came."
"Now, you are one of them."
"Tomorrow, at midnight...
...you will tell the first story."
"And it...
...will become real."
"They are waiting."
"You can't refuse."
"Because...
...you are no longer a boy who lives in the city."
"You are part of the story."
"And stories...
...never forgive those who try to escape."
Josh looked in the mirror.
His face was pale.
But in his eyes...
...there was something.
A shadow.
Small.
In his left iris.
Forming a symbol.
A circle of stones.
With a flame in the center.
And below, in tiny letters:
The Midnight Circle.
Josh brought his hand to his face.
And felt it.
His face was...
icy.
As if someone had placed a piece of ice on his skin.
VI. The Summons
At the window...
A new message appeared.
Written in condensation, as if someone had breathed against the glass.
**TOMORROW.
11:47 PM.
THE CLEARING.
BRING YOUR STORY.
DON'T BRING FEAR.
FEAR IS ALREADY HERE.**
Josh looked at the notebook.
And then...
He began to write. Not of his own volition.
But because something inside him...
...was compelling him.
And the words flowed as if they had been written centuries ago.
*"Once upon a time, there was a boy who moved to a town that didn't want visitors...
He thought it was just another move.
That stories were just stories.
That ghosts were just shadows.
That fear...
...was just a word."*
"But he was wrong."
"Because here...
...stories aren't told.*
They're fed."
"And the first thing a story wants...
...is your name."*
Josh stopped.
The pencil fell.
And he looked out the window.
Out there, in the darkness...
There were seven figures.
Sitting in a circle.
Around a flame that didn't burn.
And one of them...
...was him.
But not the Josh who was alive.
The Josh who was about to die.
And the voice that came from the flame...
...was nobody's.
It was everyone's.
And it was ancient.
And it was hunger.
"Tell us, Josh...
...what do you fear most."*
VII. Silent Epilogue
The next morning, school was normal.
Maya was writing something in her notebook, her eyes fixed on the blackboard, but her thoughts in the forest.
Jake was laughing too loudly, as if trying to stifle a sound only he could hear.
Lily clutched a wooden necklace in her hands—a talisman her grandmother gave her when she saw "the woman without a shadow" for the first time.
Sam asked everyone:
"Has anyone seen Josh? He hasn't answered my messages!"
Chloe was in the library, leafing through the same book. On page 47, there was a new note, written in invisible ink... that only appeared when held up to the light.
"He accepted. The flame saw him. Now, he needs to tell."
Owen, alone in the bathroom, looked in the mirror.
On the side of his neck, a dark stain spread—like a map.
A map of the forest.
With an X marking The Hollow.
He whispered:
"Don't do as I did. Don't tell the truth."
But it was too late.
Because the truth…
…was already being written by Josh.
And in the forest, among the stones,
the flame grew.
It waited.
Because every story needs a beginning.
And Josh's…
…already had an end.