Jalen crouched beside a tree, his fingers tracing the jagged marks scored into the glowing moss. The amber-lit bark above bore deep gouges—too high for any human, too precise to be natural damage. Caleb stood just behind him, eyes scanning the eerie treeline, while Hana and Alya lingered a few paces back, tense and watchful.
"These aren't fresh," Jalen muttered, fingertips lingering on the grooves. "But not old either."
"How can you tell?" Caleb asked.
"The moss hasn't grown back yet. Look here." Jalen pointed to a patch where the amber veins dimmed around the scrape, like a bruise beneath skin. "The glow pulses differently where it's been disturbed."
Hana shivered, pulling her jacket tighter. "So… something big did this?"
Jalen nodded slowly. "Big, fast, and probably territorial."
Alya squinted upward at the branches twisting overhead. "This forest… it's alive in ways that don't make sense. No wind, yet the trees sway. No sun, but still bright. And the mist—it listens. Like it breathes."
Caleb turned slowly, taking it all in. "It's like being trapped inside a dream you can't wake from."
"No," Hana whispered, voice trembling. "It's like a nightmare."
Behind them, the survivors edged outward, spreading cautiously but staying within the clearing. Small clusters formed—people seeking warmth, comfort, maybe safety in numbers. Some told fragments of their stories again, trying to anchor themselves to something real. Others simply stared, eyes wide and hollow.
"I heard someone call this place a simulation," Jalen said, voice low. "But I've trained in war zones. This doesn't feel digital. It's real. The dampness, the decay… the fear. You can't fake that."
Alya brushed moss off her pants. "We need food. Water. Shelter. If we don't move soon, we won't survive the night."
Caleb nodded firmly. "But we can't just walk blindly into that mist."
"I say we scout," Jalen suggested. "Small group. Ten-minute loop. We mark the trees, track our path. If anything moves, we fall back."
"Who goes?" Hana asked, barely above a whisper.
Jalen rose, eyes scanning the trees. "I will."
Caleb stepped forward without hesitation. "Me too."
Alya's hand went up. "I'll come. I know first aid. If—"
"No." A gruff voice cut in. The older man who'd spoken of the cracked sky earlier stepped forward. "You're the only medic. You stay. If this is like a jungle, wounds won't wait."
Alya clenched her jaw but said nothing.
Laura, the woman with the battered backpack, approached, holding out a compass. "Take this. It's useless now, but it's all we have. Just… be careful, and come back."
The three prepared to leave—Jalen, Caleb, and Yusuf, a quiet young man clutching a sharp stone tied to a stick with frayed wire.
"I'm not strong," Yusuf said, eyes downcast. "But I've read about survival. I can help."
They moved out.
Jalen led, marking trees with cuts from a glass shard. The air shifted beyond the moss boundary—the forest seemed to breathe around them.
Caleb whispered, "Why does it feel like it's watching us?"
"Because it probably is," Jalen muttered.
They walked in silence, every step careful. Branches above hung like claws ready to strike.
A flicker in the mist.
They froze.
A shape crawled low, limbs too long, joints bending unnatural angles—then vanished.
"What was that?" Yusuf whispered.
"No face," Caleb said. "No footsteps."
Jalen raised a hand. "Back. Now."
Retracing steps, Yusuf stumbled, brushing moss that hissed and recoiled like a wounded beast.
"Don't touch anything else," Jalen warned grimly.
At the clearing, anxious eyes greeted them. The little girl with ribbons twitched in sleep, fragile as a shadow.
"What did you find?" Alya asked.
Jalen hesitated. "Tracks. Scars. Movement. Nothing friendly."
"It's a hunting ground," Caleb said. "And we're the prey."
Some wept; others looked away. Alya clapped her hands sharply.
"Then we plan. Weapons. Torches. Fire. Anything."
Caleb added, "And watches. Pairs. No one alone."
Jalen agreed. "Tomorrow—if we survive—we find higher ground. Somewhere defensible."
Hana pulled Caleb aside.
"You saw it too?"
He nodded.
"I think it saw us."
The child clung to Caleb's leg, quiet but trembling. His tiny hands were scratched, his face smudged with dried blood. No one knew his name. He hadn't spoken since they found him beneath the roots.
Caleb crouched, voice soft. "Look at me. You're safe now. We'll take care of you. I promise."
The group watched, pale faces lit by the dim light. The forest loomed, dripping with moisture. The ground was soft, spongy but not muddy. The air thick and suffocating.
Jalen stood guard, dreadlocks tied back. His hands gripped a sharpened branch.
"It's thickening," he muttered. "You see that mist curling? It's like tendrils."
Caleb narrowed his eyes. The fog had been creeping in since dawn. Now it was a wall, swirling, shifting with shadows.
"Not natural," Farah said, hugging herself. "Fog doesn't move like this. Not inland."
"Maybe we're on an island?" Emre offered. "This whole place…"
Caleb shook his head. "No salt in the air. No birds. No bugs. No wind."
Only silence. And a pulsing beneath the ground, rhythmic and steady.
Nobody spoke of that.
"Did anyone else hear it last night?" Farah asked, voice low.
"The growl?" Jalen replied sharply.
"No," she said. "Whispers. Voices in the fog."
Several froze. Caleb felt the air shift—wariness, not fear. They were learning to live with fear.
"Could be wind tricks," Emre said too fast.
"There's no wind," Jalen snapped.
The child clung tighter to Caleb's sleeve, eyes fixed on the grey.
Caleb turned—and something moved. Fast. Low. Between trees.
Everyone froze.
Jalen stepped forward, club raised. "Left flank."
Farah stumbled. "What is it?"
"We don't know," Caleb said, voice steady. "Stay close. No one alone."
Shadows slid just beyond sight, dark smears in the fog. Not shapes—impressions. Something watching, waiting.
The fog deepened, purple-tinged. The scent of moss and rot thickened.
Caleb crouched by a stone ledge, eyes narrowed. Something watched beyond the trees. Slow, deliberate.
"How long has it been stalking us?" Jalen asked softly.
"At least two days," Caleb said. "Not alone."
Fatima held Layla's small hand tight. The child's fingers clutched a scrap of cloth.
"Is it like the one tearing through trees?" Fatima whispered.
"No," Caleb said. "That one was bigger. This one… quieter. Smarter."
A hush fell, broken only by leaves whispering like claws on silk.
Jalen stood. "We move before night. Find another spot or… trap it."
Caleb exhaled. "Trap it."
Heads turned.
"With what?" Yasmin asked, cheeks hollow.
"We have sharpened sticks, a coil of vine, and a bone-pike as bait," Caleb explained. "A small group draws it out."
Fatima shook her head. "Not with the child."
"Agreed," Caleb said. "But we can manage."
Layla tugged Fatima's sleeve. "The whispery thing is closer."
"What whispery thing?" Fatima asked.
"The one that walks on legs but doesn't blink."
Caleb's blood ran cold.
**
Caleb, Jalen, Yasmin, and Umar—an older man who claimed to be a wilderness guide—split from the group. They moved toward where the creature circled.
Umar knelt, tracing pits in the dirt. "Tiger traps. Similar idea. Different world."
Yasmin sharpened the bone-spike, skeptical but determined.
Jalen watched the perimeter, whispering, "It watches. Like hot breath on my neck."
The trap lay at a natural funnel in the terrain. Caleb wrapped the bait—cloth soaked in scavenged blood and slime—onto the bone-spear and positioned it over the pit. Vines tied above served as triggers.
As night fell, they returned to the ruins.
**
They waited.
The group watched from behind a log blind. Every snap of twig made hearts race.
A rustle. Then stillness.
Clicking—bone on stone.
"It's here," Caleb whispered.
Jalen gripped his club. Yasmin readied a crystal shard. Umar held a sling.
Then silence stretched.
Suddenly—the trap snapped.
A shriek unlike any animal or human. Wet, hollow, layered voices.
Layla screamed.
Fatima shushed her, pulling her behind stone.
The net yanked tight. Vines snapped. Jalen charged, club swinging. Caleb leapt over brush.
The creature writhed—pale, rubbery skin, eyes covered by fleshy veil. Claws tore at vines. One lash slammed Jalen into a tree.
"Jalen!" Caleb yelled.
Umar hurled a stone. The beast shrieked.
Yasmin screamed with rage and stabbed the shard into its throat.
The creature collapsed, gurgling.
Silence.
Their breaths loud.
**
Dragging the corpse back, cautious.
Jalen rubbed ribs. "Nothing broken… but it nearly cracked me."
Layla stared at the body. "That's not the whispery one."
All eyes turned.
"What do you mean?" Caleb asked.
"The whispery one has no face."
A chill swept the group.
Caleb muttered, "It wasn't alone."
They examined the body under torchlight.
Its flesh translucent, jellyfish-like, but thick and dry. Inside, a clump of black vines wrapped a bulbous mass.
Umar cut it open. "Not organs… fungus. A hybrid."
Yasmin nodded. "Spores growing from bones."
"Symbiosis," Umar said. "Not infection."
Fatima pulled Layla close. "The Veilwild grows its own hunters."
The firelight grew colder.
**
Suddenly—a sharp crack echoed.
Caleb raised a hand. "Silence."
He and Jalen exchanged a look.
"Someone's coming," Jalen whispered.
From the mist, four figures emerged—cautious, purposeful.
A tall woman with a spear, a limping man clutching his side, a wiry woman with strange tools, and a teenage boy clutching a backpack.
Caleb stepped forward, hands raised.
"We're survivors."
The group froze. The woman lowered her spear.
"I'm Tora," she said. "This is Biran, Petra, and Rami."
Jalen stepped beside Caleb.
"Where are you headed?"
"Anywhere but deeper," Tora said. "We lost half our group last night. This place hunts."
Soraya approached, holding little Miri.
"Join us," Caleb said. "Alone is death."
Petra nodded. "We found something worse than the creatures. We can tell you."
As they settled, stories spilled—lost camps, narrow escapes, and a strange fungal bite infecting Biran's arm.