Capítulo 100: Chapter 100
The game of hide and seek was simple. It was only a few children running around in the woods, no older than twelve, laughing and shouting as they scampered through the underbrush, trying to hide from each other. But the trees weren't like the ones in their town.
These were ancient. They had seen the earth turn over many times. Beneath the boughs, an air of something unsettling, like an echo of something old and watching, tugged at the edges of their minds.
Darren had been the one to find it, a small clearing deeper in the woods, where the earth was uneven and the grass choked up in clumps, like it had been untouched for years. In the center stood an old, crumbling rock with markings.
At first, the kids thought it was just part of the game. But when they gathered around it, something shifted in the ground.
A low, wet sound had risen from beneath them, and the earth seemed to break apart, revealing the thing beneath. A figure. Thin, tall, its face like a cracked mask of stone, an expression frozen in time. Darren had dared the others to touch it, laughing at how nervous they looked. Then they heard it—a voice that wasn't a voice, but something in the back of their heads, something that scraped and crawled.
"I am Brahoya," it whispered. "I offer you a game."
The words chilled them. Darren, always the brave one, had spoken up. "What kind of game?"
Brahoya's smile stretched wide, too wide. "A game of hide and seek. Whoever loses will disappear for one hundred years. A full century. But when you return, you'll be unchanged. Not a day older."
The others froze. Darren, his face flushed with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief, had tried to laugh it off. "Sounds like a bet. A stupid one, but a bet. Who's in?"
The others hesitated. Each of them looked at each other, a silent agreement in their eyes. And when they nodded, the game began.
The rules were simple. Brahoya would count while they hid. They had ten minutes. If he found them, they would lose. If they stayed hidden, they would win. The others, though anxious, played along, eager to see where this strange game would lead.
They scattered through the woods, some heading toward the decaying trees, others slipping through the thick underbrush, desperate to get away from the clearing.
Darren was the last to leave, his feet dragging over the ground as he ran deeper into the woods. The air felt dense, like a wall of invisible hands pushing against his skin. Every step felt too heavy, too slow, and the sounds of the other kids faded into nothingness.
The countdown began. Brahoya's voice didn't rise. It was a slow, methodical whisper, like an ancient ritual being repeated from memory. He started at one. The woods fell into a thick silence.
Darren pushed through the underbrush until he found a thick, low-set bush. He crouched down and pulled the leaves around him, feeling the cold, rough branches scrape his skin. His breath was shallow, each intake a tiny gasp as he tried to listen.
The countdown continued.
Two… three… four…
He could hear the distant sound of footsteps, of something else walking in the trees. He tensed, holding his breath. His skin felt clammy, and the tightness in his chest only grew worse as the counting continued. His hands, clutching the ground beneath him, were shaking. Not from fear, but from something else.
The woods felt too still. It wasn't just the absence of noise. It was like the woods were holding their breath. The sound of Brahoya's voice continued, getting closer. Six… seven… eight…
Darren's eyes darted around the darkness, trying to find any sign of movement. The silence hung in the air, thick and unyielding. The trees pressed in on him. The last few steps of the countdown echoed, louder, sharper, more distinct.
And then, it stopped.
"Ready or not," the voice whispered.
Darren's heart leaped into his throat. He pressed himself deeper into the bush, trying to stay as still as possible. A twig snapped somewhere behind him. He spun around, eyes wide, but there was nothing. Just the thick trees, the moss-covered ground.
His hands trembled. He had never felt so alone in his life.
He could hear Brahoya's footsteps now, slow and deliberate, each one sending a shudder through the earth. Darren's breath quickened. His chest felt tight, suffocating. His skin felt too hot. It wasn't supposed to feel this way.
It was just a game. But the ground beneath him wasn't solid anymore. It shifted, like it was moving, like something was coming closer, something that wasn't human.
Brahoya was close. Too close.
Darren's pulse hammered in his ears. Sweat slid down his face, his body trembling from head to toe. He could feel the air change. It wasn't just the weight of the game. It wasn't just the pressure. The trees felt alive now. The very ground was alive. A low hum began to crawl over him, a vibration that made his teeth ache.
The footsteps stopped.
Brahoya's voice—closer now, whispering through the trees, like it was in Darren's head, not in the air—murmured, "I see you, child."
Darren's eyes widened. There was no one around him. He turned in a circle, desperately searching, but there was nothing. And then he saw it—Brahoya's figure, standing just beyond the trees. Thin, tall, too still.
Its eyes. Empty, hollow. But they were watching him.
A cold hand reached out. Darren's breath hitched. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't move. They felt heavy, useless.
"No," he gasped, his voice cracking.
Brahoya's smile widened.
The world around Darren seemed to pulse with an eerie light. The trees were closer now, their branches reaching out to him. The ground shifted beneath his feet, pulling at his legs, pulling him into the earth.
He screamed, his voice cut off as the earth swallowed him whole.
When Darren woke, it was different. The woods were silent. The sun, once bright and clear, now hung in the sky like a distant memory. He was back in the clearing. But the others—his friends—were gone. No trace. No sound. Only Brahoya, standing tall, as if nothing had changed.
"Your friends are safe," Brahoya said, its voice soft and slow. "They will return, just as you will. In one hundred years. But you will not see them again, not as you are now."
Darren opened his mouth to scream, to ask, to plead. But the words wouldn't come. His body wouldn't move. He could only watch as Brahoya turned away, its form already vanishing into the shadows of the woods.
He was alone.
And he had lost.
The years passed in the hollow spaces of Darren's mind, the world moving forward, but he was left behind, trapped in the void. He was no older, but everything else had changed. When the century passed, and Darren returned to the world he once knew, he wasn't the same.
The world moved on, but he was stuck in time, a piece of the past, cursed to remember and never to be remembered. And when the time came, when he was allowed back, the world had forgotten him entirely.
The faces of those he had once known—his friends, his family—had long since crumbled into the dust of time.
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