Chapter 4: Into the Hollow
The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the forest as Lyra, Sam, and Dean made their way toward the Hollow. The night air was thick with tension, and the trees seemed to whisper with a life of their own, as though the very forest was aware of the task they were about to undertake.
Lyra's heart hammered in her chest, each beat a reminder of the peril they were facing. The Midnight Shadow was close—she could feel it, pressing against her mind, whispering dark promises, trying to break through. It was like an itch she couldn't scratch, a gnawing sensation that never let up.
"We're almost there," Dean's voice broke through her thoughts, steady and calm as always. He led the way with a flashlight, its beam cutting through the darkness in sharp angles.
Sam followed closely behind, his eyes scanning the woods around them. "Stay sharp. If this is where the Shadow was summoned, it's likely that some of its power still lingers here."
Lyra nodded but said nothing. Her focus was on the path ahead, the heavy weight of the ritual they were about to perform pressing down on her shoulders. She had no idea what to expect in the Hollow, but she knew one thing for certain: she couldn't let the demon control her. Not again.
As they walked deeper into the woods, the trees grew denser, their twisted branches reaching out like clawed hands. The path narrowed, the air growing colder with each step. Lyra wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stave off the chill that crept into her bones. The air here was thick with dark energy, a palpable force that seemed to pulse beneath her skin.
"Here we are," Dean said, coming to a halt in front of a large, jagged rock formation. The stone looked ancient, weathered by time and the elements, with strange symbols etched into its surface. It felt wrong—like something about this place had been corrupted by years of dark magic.
Sam stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he examined the markings. "This is it. The symbols match the ones from your grandmother's journals. This is where the ritual needs to be performed."
Lyra stepped closer, her breath caught in her throat as she gazed at the rock. "This is where they made the deal."
"Yeah," Dean said quietly. "And this is where we're going to end it."
Lyra looked up at the sky, the moon hanging like a silent witness to their plans. It was almost time. She could feel the demon stirring inside her, a restless presence that seemed to pulse with anticipation. The ritual would have to be done soon, or she would lose herself to it completely.
"I'm ready," Lyra said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.
Sam nodded, his expression determined. "We'll get through this. Together."
Dean pulled a small, leather-bound book from his jacket and handed it to Sam. "This is the final part of the ritual. It's a binding spell. If we do it right, the Shadow won't be able to possess you."
Lyra's eyes flicked between the two of them. "And if we do it wrong?"
Dean's face darkened. "If we do it wrong, we're screwed. But we're not going to do it wrong."
Sam opened the book, his fingers tracing the words on the page. "The ritual needs three components: light, shadow, and the willing sacrifice of the vessel—the one who holds the demon."
Lyra felt the words sink into her chest, a cold weight settling over her heart. She had always known that the price would be high, but hearing it stated so plainly made it all the more real.
"Once we start, there's no turning back," Sam said, looking up from the book. "You have to trust us, Lyra. And you have to trust yourself."
Lyra nodded, her resolve hardening. She had no choice but to trust them—she had no choice but to do this. The alternative was unthinkable.
Dean glanced around, his hand resting on the grip of his gun. "Stay alert. We don't know what kind of tricks this thing has up its sleeve."
Sam motioned for Lyra to stand in front of the rock, the symbols glowing faintly in the dim light. As she moved into position, the air seemed to thicken, the weight of centuries-old magic pressing down on her. She could feel the Shadow inside her, clawing at her mind, urging her to give in, to surrender.
But she didn't. She couldn't.
"I'm ready," Lyra said again, though her voice trembled slightly.
Sam and Dean stood at either side of her, their hands raised as they prepared to perform the ritual. The symbols on the stone pulsed with an eerie light, and the air around them seemed to shimmer with dark energy.
"Remember," Sam said softly. "We need to start the incantation when the Shadow shows itself. If we wait too long, it could take full control."
Lyra closed her eyes, focusing on her breath, on the rhythm of her heartbeat. The Shadow was there, just behind her thoughts, waiting. But she would fight it. She had to.
Suddenly, a cold wind howled through the forest, and the ground beneath their feet trembled. A shadow moved in the corner of Lyra's vision—a fleeting, ethereal shape. It was here.
Her heart stopped as the presence inside her surged, and for a moment, she felt it take hold. The demon's voice whispered in her mind, a low, insidious growl.
You cannot stop me, child. You belong to me now.
Lyra gasped, the demon's power coursing through her veins like liquid ice. She fought to hold onto herself, to push back against the overwhelming darkness that threatened to consume her.
"Now!" Sam shouted, his voice slicing through the fog in her mind.
Dean and Sam began chanting the incantation, their words blending into the air like a chorus of ancient voices. The symbols on the rock flared to life, casting a brilliant light that cut through the darkness.
The demon inside Lyra screamed in fury, its power fighting against the ritual. Lyra could feel its claws digging into her mind, trying to rip her apart from the inside out.
But she held on.
With every word of the incantation, the light around them grew brighter, and the darkness recoiled. The demon screeched, its presence wavering, and for a brief moment, Lyra felt free—like she was breaking free of its grip.
Then, with one final, gut-wrenching scream, the Midnight Shadow was pulled from her, its power banished into the light.
Lyra fell to her knees, gasping for air, her body trembling with the effort of the struggle. For a moment, she thought she might collapse completely, but Sam was there, steadying her with a firm hand on her shoulder.
"We did it," he said, his voice filled with quiet relief.
Dean stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable. "It's not over yet. We need to make sure it stays gone."
Lyra looked up at the rock, the glowing symbols now dimming as the ritual came to an end. The air was still, and the oppressive weight of the Shadow was gone. For the first time in years, she felt light.
But she knew this wasn't the end. The battle might be over, but the war was far from finished.
The Midnight Shadow had been banished—for now.
But as Lyra stood up, her legs shaky but strong, she knew one thing for sure: they hadn't seen the last of the darkness.