Emily didn't tell the others she was going back.
She couldn't.
If she did, they'd try to stop her. And if they tried to stop her, the forest would only claim them too. She'd already dragged them too far into its darkness. Ava's quiet nightmares, Marcus's sudden paranoia, Leah's unsettling drawings—these weren't coincidences. The forest had touched them.
But Emily? The forest owned her.
She zipped her coat and tightened the straps on her boots, sliding her journal and Wren's spiral charm into her backpack. At the bottom, tucked into the lining, was the hatchet Marcus had left behind last night.
If it comes down to it… she thought grimly. I'll finish this myself.
The moon hung low over the horizon as she crossed the empty field toward the tree line. A soft mist curled along the ground like pale fingers, and the forest seemed to breathe as she approached. Every instinct screamed at her to turn back.
Instead, she stepped in.
The forest welcomed her.
Branches didn't claw her this time. Roots didn't snag her boots. The trees leaned away, parting like curtains as she walked deeper and deeper into the shadows. The night was alive with whispers—soft, melodic, almost sweet.
Seeker… seeker… come home…
Her heart pounded, but she didn't slow.
She followed a faint glow ahead, deeper than she had ever gone before. The air grew thick, heavy with the scent of moss and rot. Her breath came in clouds that vanished too quickly, like the forest was stealing even that from her.
And then—she saw it.
The Heart.
It wasn't a tree.
It was every tree.
A massive knot of roots and trunks twisted together into a grotesque structure that pulsed with a slow, steady rhythm. Faces bulged from its surface—children's faces, dozens of them, mouths open in silent cries. Between the cracks of bark, a dull red light glowed like embers.
And at its core… a hollow.
Not empty.
Something stood inside.
It wasn't Wren.
It wasn't a child.
It was a figure cloaked in shadows, taller than any human, its limbs too long, its head crowned with antlers made of bone and bark. Its face was blank—no eyes, no mouth—just smooth wood that gleamed faintly in the glow.
Emily froze, her blood running cold.
The whispers surged.
WELCOME BACK, SEEKER.
The figure stepped out of the hollow, its movements slow, deliberate. The earth trembled with every step. When it stopped before her, Emily felt like a mouse before a wolf.
"You're… the forest," she whispered.
The blank face tilted as if amused.
THE GAME IS ETERNAL, the voices hissed. YOU SOUGHT THEM. NOW WE SEEK YOU.
Emily's fists clenched. "I ended your game."
The forest laughed—a sound like wind tearing through dead leaves.
YOU INTERRUPTED IT. THERE IS NO END. THERE IS ONLY COUNTING.
Roots writhed along the ground, curling toward her boots. She stumbled back, gripping the hatchet from her pack.
"I'm not playing," she said, her voice shaking.
YOU ALREADY ARE.
The glow from the hollow brightened, and Emily saw them—shapes moving within the wood. Children. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. Faces she recognized—Devon. Wren. Others she'd never seen. Their eyes locked on her, wide with silent warning.
The forest stretched out a limb—thin as a branch, tipped with claws like jagged splinters.
STAY, SEEKER. BECOME THE ROOT. ANCHOR THE NEXT ROUND.
Emily shook her head violently. "No. No more rounds."
The voices slithered like snakes around her ears.
THEN THE OTHERS WILL COUNT IN YOUR PLACE.
Images flashed in her mind—Ava standing in a circle of black trees, blindfolded. Marcus tangled in roots, screaming. Leah whispering numbers with empty eyes.
"No!" Emily shouted. "Leave them out of this!"
The forest tilted its blank face.
TRADE, THEN. YOURSELF FOR THEIR FREEDOM.
Emily's throat tightened.
Could she do it? Sacrifice herself? Bind the curse to her so her friends lived free?
Her hand tightened on the hatchet.
"What happens if I kill you?" she asked.
For the first time, the whispers faltered.
Then the laughter returned—low and cruel.
KILL US? SEEKER… WE ARE THE EARTH BENEATH YOUR FEET. THE AIR IN YOUR LUNGS. THE ROOTS IN YOUR BONES. KILL US… AND YOU KILL YOURSELF.
Emily raised the hatchet anyway.
"Maybe that's the point."
The forest lunged.
Roots shot up, wrapping her legs, yanking her off her feet. She hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from her lungs. The hatchet clattered away into the shadows.
The figure towered over her now, branches creaking as it crouched. The blank wood where a face should be hovered inches from hers. Cold seeped into her skin, into her bones, until even breathing hurt.
COUNT, SEEKER, the voices whispered. COUNT TO TEN AND REST.
A root slid across her throat like a blade.
Emily sucked in a shuddering breath.
"One…"
The word tore from her lips like blood.
The roots tightened.
"Two…"
Her vision blurred.
Somewhere, far away, a voice screamed her name.
"EMILY!"
She blinked through tears.
Figures burst into the clearing—Ava, Marcus, Leah—faces pale, eyes wide. They didn't hesitate. Marcus charged forward, swinging a flaming branch he'd ripped from a torch. Sparks rained as it struck the forest's limb, searing the bark.
The forest recoiled with an unearthly shriek, roots thrashing violently.
"Go!" Ava shouted, grabbing Emily's arm. "Move!"
Emily tried, but the roots clung to her like iron chains.
Leah fell to her knees, sawing through them with a blade. "Hold still!"
Emily's lungs burned. Her ears rang with whispers.
FOOLS. ALL OF YOU.
The ground split open, a chasm yawning wide as roots erupted like serpents.
Emily saw the hatchet gleam in the dirt.
She grabbed it.
And with a scream, she swung—not at the roots, but at her own palm, where the spiral mark burned like fire.
The blade bit deep.
Blood spattered across the earth.
The mark split.
The roots shrieked.
And the forest howled like a beast in pain.
Light exploded from the wound—blinding, searing.
The figure reeled back, its shadow shredding like smoke.
The faces in the wood blinked once—then vanished.
The glow in the hollow dimmed.
And the forest… fell silent.
When Emily opened her eyes, she was lying on cold dirt.
The others knelt around her, their faces streaked with soot and tears.
"You're bleeding," Ava said, pressing fabric to Emily's palm.
Emily stared at the trees.
They were still.
No whispers.
No counting.
Just silence.
"Did we…" Marcus swallowed. "Did we win?"
Emily looked down at her palm.
The spiral mark was gone.
But where it had been, something faint shimmered—like a root beneath her skin.
She closed her eyes.
"We bought time," she whispered.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
That night, Emily wrote one last line in her journal:
The forest sleeps. For now. But if it wakes… the seeker returns.
And deep in the woods, unseen by any of them, a single root twitched.
The counting would begin again.