The scream from the river followed us into the trees, vibrating in the roots beneath our feet. My legs were heavy from the water, my breath ragged, but Lena didn't slow.
The forest felt tighter here, like it was folding in on itself. Every trunk was slick with moss that shone faintly, as if it were alive. The light was dim, even though I could still see patches of grey sky above.
A branch snapped behind us. Then another.
The thing from the river wasn't far. I didn't hear splashing—it moved on land now, the sound of wet fabric dragging over leaves.
Lena veered sharply right, ducking under a low branch. I followed, scraping my back on rough bark. She kept weaving through the trees, her movements sharp, precise, as though she'd run this path before.
I hadn't. My boots slipped on the damp ground. Every misstep felt like it would cost me seconds I didn't have. My thighs burned, my lungs ached, and the taste of iron coated my tongue.
A low rustle rippled through the canopy. The air grew colder again, my breath pluming white in front of me.
I risked a glance back.
Something pale slid between the trees—tall, bent, its limbs too thin to hold the weight of its body. The way it moved wasn't running—it was stretching, pulling itself forward like each step was a choice it was savoring.
Its head—if you could call it that—was smooth and featureless except for a line splitting down the middle, twitching wider with every movement.
The hum started again, softer but more piercing, like it was inside my skull now.
The vibration pressed against my teeth, making them ache. The world tilted slightly, like I was being pulled toward the sound.
I stumbled. My knee hit the ground hard. Pain flared white in my vision. The sound spiked instantly. The thing had noticed.
Lena yanked me up with surprising strength and shoved me forward. "Don't stop," she hissed.
I didn't argue. The forest ahead blurred into streaks of black and grey as I pushed myself harder.
The path narrowed to a slot between two massive trunks. We squeezed through, my shoulders scraping both sides. The hum dipped, as if the trees themselves were muffling it. For a brief moment, the world felt still.
We broke into a small clearing. The ground here was uneven, riddled with holes where roots had pulled free. The air smelled faintly metallic.
In the center stood something that didn't belong—an old metal door, standing upright with no wall or frame around it. Rust streaked down its surface, and the handle was worn smooth.
Lena sprinted straight for it.
The hum swelled behind us again, louder now, angry. The pale shape moved faster, limbs snapping forward in jerks, almost a mockery of running.
The moss on the trees began to glow brighter as the thing drew closer, as if the entire forest was aware of it.
My chest burned. My vision narrowed. Every instinct screamed that if it reached us, there would be nothing left to save.
Lena grabbed the door handle and twisted. The air shimmered around it, the metal warping like a heat mirage. Without hesitation, she shoved me through before I could ask anything.
I stumbled forward—
—and landed in darkness.
The ground here was dry. The air was warmer, almost stale, like the inside of a sealed attic.
I turned just in time to see Lena slip through behind me. She slammed the door shut, the sound ringing like a gunshot in the enclosed space.
For a heartbeat, I swore I saw the pale face press against the metal. The split in its head gaped wider, revealing darkness inside. Then it was gone.
The hum faded completely.
I bent over, hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. My skin prickled with cold sweat, and my legs felt like lead. I wanted to ask what that thing was, but Lena didn't look at me. She stood still, head tilted like she was listening to something far away.
The silence was different here. It wasn't empty—it was waiting.
A soft scratching sound echoed from somewhere deeper in the darkness ahead.
Lena's voice was barely a whisper. "We're not safe yet."
She started forward, her boots crunching on something brittle. I followed, my eyes straining against the black. Shapes slowly began to emerge—low mounds scattered across the floor, glinting faintly when the light from the door's rusted handle caught them.
Bones.
Human bones.
Some were old, bleached white. Others were still wrapped in tatters of clothing, the fabric stiff with age.
I swallowed hard. "Where are we?"
Lena didn't answer. She crouched, touched the ground, and then rose again. Her pace quickened, and I had no choice but to match it.
The scratching grew louder. It was rhythmic now, like claws raking against stone.
The air shifted—warmer ahead, colder behind.
Somewhere in the dark, something hissed.
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