The ground heaved beneath me like a dying beast, and I fell to my knees in the damp soil. Stone cracked. Wood splintered. And then came the hands—gray, bloated, gripping the edges of graves long sealed. I recognized the ring on one: Father’s signet, engraved with the Hollow’s crest. My breath froze as he pulled himself free, neck bent at a sickening angle, eyes hollow yet aware.\n\nHe took a step. Then another. Not toward me—toward the village. Behind us, more graves ruptured. A woman in a tattered wedding dress crawled out screaming—not in rage, but sorrow. The wind carried whispers in a language I shouldn’t understand… but did.\n\nMy hand burned. The mark on my palm—a birthsign I’d hidden for years—glowed faintly, pulsing in time with the heartbeat of the earth. This wasn’t random. This was a calling. And I had two choices: run and let the dead take the living… or speak the words etched in my blood and claim control before it was too late.