Caleb didn't move. He only watched Mara from the corner of his eye, pretending to stir the embers with a stick. She didn't notice—or pretended not to. Her posture was loose, casual even, but her attention was locked on Ivy as if the girl were the only living thing in the camp.
When at last Mara turned away, Caleb let out the breath he'd been holding. The night was quiet except for the faint hiss of the fire and the whisper of mist slipping between the trees. No insects. No wind. Just the slow, steady pulse of the forest, like it was breathing with them.
He lay down but kept one hand on the hilt of his knife.
Dawn came without birdsong.
The group moved out early, stomachs tight from another meagre breakfast. The ridge sloped down into a stretch of forest where the ground was littered with pale stones, each about the size of a fist. They weren't scattered at random—they formed faint lines, as though someone had once tried to mark a path.
Mara walked ahead, tapping each stone lightly with the end of her spear. "These aren't markers," she said. "They're warnings."
Biran frowned. "Warnings for what?"
She didn't answer, just stepped carefully between them. The rest followed her path, trying not to disturb the stones.
By midday, the air grew damp and heavy. The diary mentioned a "breathing hollow" in this area—an underground cavity that exhaled warm air through cracks in the earth. Alya thought it might mean a hot spring, but when they found the source, it wasn't water that came up. It was mist—thicker, darker, and warmer than anything they'd felt before.
"It smells like… burnt leaves," Hana murmured.
Rahul crouched over a vent, reaching toward it with his hand. Caleb caught his wrist before he could touch it.
"Not smart," he said. "The last time someone touched something that smelled wrong, it nearly took their skin off."
Mara watched the exchange, silent. Her eyes weren't on the vent—they were on the forest beyond, where the mist was curling in odd, deliberate patterns.
They made camp early, near a cluster of fallen trees. The air here was clearer, and Alya insisted they use the time to boil as much of the clean water as they could before nightfall. The others began to relax, speaking in low voices, passing the boiled water around in cups scavenged from the ruins.
Ivy sat beside Hana, drawing circles in the dirt with a stick.
"What are those?" Hana asked gently.
"Places," the girl whispered. "I saw them in my dreams."
Caleb looked over. The shapes weren't random—they looked eerily like the curved ring of stone pillars from that morning.
Before he could ask, Mara knelt beside Ivy, her voice almost tender. "Do you remember anything else from the dream?"
Ivy nodded, but her voice dropped to a near-silent murmur. Caleb caught only one word.
"Teeth."
That night, Caleb took first watch with Dev. The air was colder, the fire small so it wouldn't draw too much attention. In the dim light, he saw Mara sitting cross-legged on the far side of the camp, the black pebble from before turning slowly between her fingers.
"What do you make of her?" Dev asked quietly.
Caleb kept his eyes on her. "She knows more than she says. And she's not scared the way the rest of us are."
"That's a good thing, isn't it?"
"Maybe," Caleb said. "Or maybe it means she's comfortable here."
Neither spoke for a while. Somewhere beyond the trees, something let out a low, drawn-out moan—not close, but not far enough for comfort.
When Caleb looked back at Mara, she was watching him now, not Ivy. Her expression was unreadable, but her fingers never stopped turning the stone.
By morning, the mist had thickened again, clinging low to the ground like it didn't want to let them go. Their breath came out in pale clouds, even though the air wasn't cold enough for it. Caleb led from the front, the diary open in one hand. Every few minutes, he'd glance at Mara, who walked just ahead of him with that same quiet, steady pace.
They passed another set of those pale stones, half-buried in moss. This time, Mara didn't tap them—she stepped over them quickly, almost impatiently, and urged the others to keep moving.
"Why rush?" Petra asked, annoyed. "The diary says nothing hunts here during the day."
"Day's shorter here," Mara replied without looking back. "You lose the light, you lose your chance."
"To get where?" Caleb asked.
"To somewhere we can sleep without hearing it breathe," she said simply.
The others exchanged glances, but no one pressed further.
By midday, the land began to slope downward, the trees leaning toward a point somewhere ahead. It was subtle at first—a gentle pull—but after an hour of walking, Caleb noticed the path they followed wasn't random.
It curved.
Almost imperceptibly, it was guiding them toward a set of distant shapes in the mist. Shapes like pillars.
"Mara," he called, "where exactly are we going?"
"Water," she said.
The word was enough to keep the group following. Their skins were nearly empty again, and the last stream they'd found had been shallow and warm, hardly enough to last the night.
Still, Caleb felt the knot in his gut tighten. The diary had warned about complete circles. And the more they walked, the more he felt like they were moving toward one.
They stopped to rest in a hollow where the mist pooled like milk in a bowl. The air was warmer here, and not entirely in a good way.
"Feels like someone's breathing on my neck," Biran muttered.
Alya crouched with Ivy beside her, unpacking the last of the boiled water. "This will have to last until we find more."
"How far?" Rahul asked, looking to Mara.
"Not far," she said. Her voice was calm, but Caleb noticed her fingers tightening around the strap of her satchel.
They reached the water just before dusk.
It wasn't a stream, not exactly. More like a long, shallow pool formed between ridges of stone. The surface was still, but faint ripples appeared without cause, as though something deep below was shifting.
"Marker stone," Mara said, pulling the black pebble from her satchel. She stepped into the water without hesitation and dropped it in.
It floated.
Relief rippled through the group. Biran was already filling his skin when Caleb noticed something—the pale stones they'd been stepping over all day were here too, half-submerged along the water's edge.
They curved inward.
Toward the far side of the pool, the pattern closed. Not perfectly, but enough to suggest a ring.
That night, they camped close to the pool. The others were too busy drinking and cooking what little they had to notice how Caleb kept glancing at those stones in the water.
Mara sat apart from the fire again, her back to the group, watching the mist drift over the surface of the pool.
When Caleb joined her, she didn't look at him.
"You're leading us somewhere," he said quietly.
"We're all going somewhere," she replied. "Difference is, I know where mine ends."
She turned her head just enough for him to catch the faintest smile.
And in the stillness, Caleb thought—just for a second—that the ripples on the water had taken the shape of teeth.