The Maladins sat alone in their cottage, living in shadows save for the flash of lightning through the single pane of glass they dared to call a window. The cottage’s walls were peeling and rotting, begging to crumble under the weight of the house’s clay canopy. Below them, their stone cellar dripped from the crashing storm above. The door to the cellar was always kept tightly shut, but the Maladin kids could always hear bellowing voices coming from it. 

“Oh hush, little ones. It’s only the wind,” their father, James, would explain, hoping to soothe their nerves, perhaps even his own. He reached up to the talisman on his neck, seeking comfort in its sharp edges and the emerald gem inside. 

It was an ornate triangular talisman, with a long beaded coupling. Though it was only made of gold with a small emerald gem in the center, it seemed to steal the light from around it, blooming in the suddenly dim surroundings. James kept it hung from his neck, the triangle finding its home in the center of his chest. He felt pulled to the pendant. There seemed to be an energy to it, anxious for him to wear it. There was a balance–an equal pull from it towards him, and himself towards it. He relied on it while uncomfortable, giving him a sense of tranquility, unlike the feeling he got from the cellar door. 

Not much was kept in the cellar: a few tools, old photo books, and a scarecrow from James’ father’s farm. The conditions in the cellar were beyond bleak, but passable for the amount of time the family spent down there. 

“Son, do me a favor and fetch me the hammer from the cellar while I hold this window shut,” James called. 

“Father, no! I don’t want to, please, I’m scared… there’s voices down there,” his son replied.

“It is alright, dear boy. Take your sister with you.”

The two children begrudgingly opened the creaking door, hesitating as they made their descent down the curved staircase, slowly and carefully stepping around the cobwebs on the steps.

Not a minute later, a shrill scream rang through the cottage’s beat-up walls, combined with the stomping of the kids running back up the stairs. 

“What just happened?” James asked frantically. The voices of the screaming kids created a cacophony of sound, bashing his ears. The children’s cries filled the room, their faces pale as they clung to each other, eyes wide with terror.

“There’s something down there! It… it moved!” his son stammered, shaking as his sister nodded, tears streaming down her face. 

James frowned, gripping his talisman tighter. The pendant’s cool surface soothed him, but deep inside, a creeping dread began to arise. He knew, although he never wanted to admit it, that something in that cellar wasn’t right. Something had always felt off.

“Stay here,” James said to the kids, grabbing the lantern from the mantle. He crept toward the cellar door, his heart pounding harder with each step. As he descended the stairs, the familiar scent of damp earth and mold grew stronger. The dripping echoed louder in the confined space and the air grew heavier, and the light from the lantern flickered weakly, almost as if someone was trying to extinguish it. 

At the bottom of the staircase, James froze. His father’s scarecrow had moved.

“How? This can’t be…” he whispered, his hands beginning to shake. In the middle of the room, the scarecrow stood, hunched over, one hand resting on the handle of a shovel to keep itself upright. A low growl rumbled from the scarecrow, and a sly smile grew on the scarecrow’s patched face. James stumbled back, his lantern flickering as a gust of wind blew through the cellar. James took a deep breath, horrified knowing there were no windows in the cellar. The air churned, swirling around him, sending chills down his spine. 

The talisman around his neck pulsed, glowing faintly. James’s hand flew to it instinctively, seeking the comfort it often gave him. The second his fingers reached its surface, the growl stopped. The wind died. The scarecrow’s smile faded. James stared down at the talisman, the emerald in the center glowing brighter than ever–the pull between James and the pendant felt stronger. It was no longer only a comforting presence. It was alive.

He released his grip from the talisman, feeling calm after being startled by the patched monstrosity in front of him.

A deep and echoing voice filled the room. “The time has come,” it began, the voice seemingly scratching on James’ ears. The words bounced off the wall, shot out by the scarecrow’s stitched mouth.

He fell back, shaking his head. “No! I didn’t–this isn’t what I wanted–”

“You agreed to this, James Maladin,” the voice boomed. “Now, you must fulfill your end.”

The scarecrow jerked violently, its limbs twitching as if controlled by invisible strings. James frantically stood up, his breath quickening at the thought of his children left alone.

“What do you want?” James demanded, his knuckles turning white from grasping his talisman.

The voice countered, cold and relentless. “The sacrifice, as you promised years ago.”

James’ heart sank. His memories came flooding back to him, the desperate hope of a father trying to protect his family. That’s why he made that pact, and why he wore the talisman ever since, protecting him from the dark power inside himself. There was a balance–the pull of the dark power against the sanctity of the security it provided him. Good versus evil. Preservation versus destruction. 

“No,” James whispered, his trembling voice begging the scarecrow. “Not them. Take me. Please, I’m begging you, take me.”

For a moment, nothing moved. James found peace in his decision. He had kept his family safe for years, and now, could take on this dark presence, knowing he did everything he could. James took a much-needed deep breath. A single droplet hit the stone stairs, echoing into the silent cellar below. 

The scarecrow lurched forward, it’s stitched face inches from James. His burlap hand was raised, his fingers sharpened into acute tips. James squeezed his eyes shut, clutching his talisman for the last time, remembering his best memories with his family.

The scarecrow’s pointed fingers never punctured James’ skin. They both froze, the talisman glowing brilliantly, creating a flash of golden light, perfectly outlining the man and the horrific beast. James’ pendant clattered to the floor dropping from its home on his chest. The pair disappeared, banished to their cruel fates. The glow dissipated, leaving the cellar in darkness once again. James’ small lantern let just enough light spill out that the triangular talisman could still be seen, dropped from its home on James’ chest.

Later that night, the Maladin son cautiously made his way down the stairs, fear prickling him as he realized how long it had been since he or his sister had heard anything from the shadowy cellar below. To his horror, his father–and oddly enough–his grandfather’s scarecrow was missing. He walked over to the center of the room where his father’s talisman fell and picked it up. As he called for his dad, he reached up, slipping it over his neck. He took a deep breath, feeling the chill of the metal through his shirt. He jumped, feeling a cold, damp hand on his shoulder. 

“I got your father…,” the voice echoed, low and raspy, bellowing up from the shadows.  “And you’re next.” The walls seemed to press in closer, each word amplifying the silence, swallowing him whole and leaving him in a darkness that suddenly felt alive.