Within seconds, the boy's scream tore through the night. A shadowy figure materialized before him, a dark entity whose presence made the air itself heavy. Before he could run, it surged forward—pouring into his nose and mouth like a thick, black smoke.
His eyes rolled back, his mouth twisted unnaturally, and in an instant both eyes and lips turned into hollow pits of darkness.
Meanwhile, the rest of the teenage vloggers froze in terror. Their livestream flickered, and in panic they shut the cameras off. Desperation clawed at them as they tried to drag their friend out of the cursed jungle and toward the city hospital. But the forest had other plans.
The deeper they struggled, the stronger the pull. The very ground seemed to grip their feet. In moments, the suffocating darkness of Zemura's jungle swallowed them whole. Not one of them found their way out.
---
By the next morning, whispers ran wild among the villagers.
"Did anyone hear those screams last night?" one woman asked, her voice trembling.
Another villager nodded. "Yes. Loud, chilling cries. Ever since those horrors weeks ago, I barely step outside after dark. But last night… it was unmistakable."
Some shook their heads with guilt. "We told those boys not to wander into the jungle, but they wouldn't listen. I fear the demon… or the cultists… might have gotten them."
The elders muttered grimly, their voices filled with disdain. "This generation is reckless. Playing with death for entertainment. Their families are wealthy, influential people. They thought danger was a game."
True enough, by noon, the vloggers' parents arrived in Zemura—wealthy men and women dressed in fine clothes, their faces pale with grief and rage. They were not alone. With them came reporters, police officers, and even lawyers, demanding answers.
They surrounded the villagers, voices sharp and accusing.
"Our children came here last night to film a video. Where are they now?!" one furious mother cried.
The villagers shifted uncomfortably, their honesty heavy on their tongues. "They went into the jungle. We begged them not to, but they ignored us. After that… we know nothing."
But the grieving parents were unwilling to believe. "Lies!" one father shouted. "You're hiding them. Bring them out, now!"
The police stormed through the village like predators, searching every house, overturning belongings, interrogating families. Even Vixen's home was ransacked. Yet nothing—no trace of the missing boys—was found.
At last, Vixen stepped forward, his voice calm but edged with authority.
"We warned your children not to enter the jungle. They did not listen. You think we are hiding them? No. What waits in that forest is beyond human hands."
But the parents, their grief turning into rage, shouted back, "Then take us there! We'll go ourselves and find them. We will not stand here while you speak of curses and shadows."
Vixen's eyes hardened. His Alpha pheromones subtly pressed into the air, heavy and commanding as he raised a hand to silence them.
"Do not," he warned. "Step into that jungle, and you will not return. I beg you—do not risk your lives. You've heard the stories. You've seen the fear in your own eyes. That forest is cursed."
The room went silent. For the first time, the furious parents felt a shiver creep down their spines, as if the jungle itself had been listening to the argument—and was already waiting.
To be Continued....