The church had been abandoned for nearly fifty years.
According to the records, it had closed after a fire destroyed most of the building.
According to the hunters, that was a lie.
Daniel parked several miles away.
Mara checked her weapons before stepping out.
"You sure this is the place?"
Daniel held up the photograph.
"The tree line matches."
Mara looked toward the church.
"Your father brought us here once."
Daniel stopped.
"You were here?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
"We found the entrance."
"To the place where the book was created?"
Mara nodded.
"And?"
"We didn't open it."
"Why?"
"Because your mother told us not to."
Daniel looked at her.
"What changed?"
Mara stared at the church.
"Your father."
They approached the building.
The front doors were covered in vines.
Daniel pushed them open.
The hinges screamed.
Inside, the church was almost destroyed.
Broken pews covered the floor.
The altar had collapsed.
Moonlight entered through holes in the roof.
Daniel swept his flashlight across the walls.
Symbols covered every surface.
Some were painted.
Others were carved directly into the stone.
Mara touched one.
"They weren't here before."
Daniel looked at her.
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely."
A sound came from beneath the floor.
A low vibration.
Daniel looked down.
"That's new."
Mara moved toward the altar.
"Help me."
Together they pushed the broken wooden structure aside.
Beneath it was a stone staircase.
Daniel stared into the darkness.
"That wasn't in the photograph."
"It was covered."
They descended.
The air became colder with every step.
At the bottom was a narrow hallway.
The walls were covered with names.
Hundreds of them.
Daniel recognized some.
Famous hunters.
People who had disappeared.
People whose deaths had never been explained.
Mara stopped beside one name.
Daniel noticed.
"Who is that?"
"My brother."
Daniel looked at her.
"You never mentioned a brother."
"He disappeared here."
"When?"
"Twenty-two years ago."
Daniel stared at the date beside the name.
The same year his father vanished.
Mara continued walking.
The hallway opened into a massive underground chamber.
At the center was a stone pedestal.
Empty.
Daniel looked around.
"The book was here."
Mara nodded.
"Where is it now?"
A whisper answered from the darkness.
"With him."
Daniel turned.
Nothing.
Then a man stepped into the light.
Michael.
The voice from the phone.
Daniel raised his gun.
"You."
Michael stopped.
"I'm glad you made it."
Mara pointed her weapon at him.
"You shouldn't have come."
Michael smiled bitterly.
"Neither should you."
Daniel lowered his gun slightly.
"Who are you?"
"Someone who knows what your father did."
"Then tell me."
Michael looked at the pedestal.
"Your father brought the book here twenty-two years ago."
"Why?"
"To put it back."
"Then why didn't he?"
"Because your mother stopped him."
Daniel frowned.
"Why?"
Michael looked directly at him.
"Because the book had already chosen you."
Silence filled the chamber.
Daniel's mark began burning again.
Michael continued.
"Your mother discovered the truth. The book doesn't belong to hunters."
"What does it belong to?"
Michael's eyes moved toward the darkness behind Daniel.
"The Hollowed."
A deep growl echoed through the chamber.
Daniel turned.
Nothing.
Michael stepped closer.
"They were once human."
Mara interrupted.
"Don't."
Michael ignored her.
"They were hunters who believed they could control what was inside the book."
Daniel looked at the symbols covering the walls.
"What happened to them?"
"They became vessels."
"For what?"
Michael's expression darkened.
"The thing beneath the book."
The chamber shook.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
Daniel looked at the empty pedestal.
"What thing?"
Michael whispered:
"We never found a name for it."
A crack appeared across the stone floor.
Something moved beneath it.
Mara grabbed Daniel.
"Back!"
The floor split open.
A black hand reached through.
Daniel raised his gun.
Michael shouted:
"Don't shoot!"
The hand disappeared.
Silence returned.
Daniel stared at Michael.
"Why?"
"Because that wasn't the creature."
Daniel frowned.
"What was it?"
Michael looked at the floor.
"The door."
The black book appeared on the pedestal.
It opened.
A single sentence appeared.
THE DOOR IS OPENING.
Then every name carved into the walls began bleeding.