The clearing pulsed with quiet menace.
Moonlight shimmered through the trees like a curtain of frost, bathing the forest floor in silver. Emily stood at the edge, breathless, barely able to move. Her feet were soaked with mud and her fingertips ached from where thorns had pierced her palms. She had come so far—through the twisted paths, the shadows that whispered, the haunted songs, the visions that nearly shattered her mind. And now, she had reached the heart of it all.
At the center of the clearing stood the cloaked figure.
Tall. Still. Watching.
It wore a long tattered robe, moss clinging to its hem like roots. No face could be seen beneath the hood—only darkness, as if light refused to touch it. The air around the figure rippled faintly, like heat rising from pavement, though the air was bitter cold.
Emily swallowed hard, clutching the locket tighter in her hand—her mother's, the only real thing she had left in this waking nightmare.
"You brought me here," she whispered, barely able to hear her own voice over the heavy thud of her heart. "Why?"
The figure tilted its head. A soft, rasping voice emerged—dry as leaves and ancient as the soil beneath her feet.
"I did not bring you here, Emily. The forest did."
She shuddered. The voice carried weight—memories, sorrow, loss. It echoed not only in her ears but in her bones.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"I am what remains of the last Seeker," the figure said. "I was chosen long ago, as you were. And like you, I thought I could escape."
Emily felt a chill crawl up her spine.
"You're—one of the children?"
The figure nodded slowly.
"I was once called Lila. I played the game. I closed my eyes and counted. But when I opened them…" The voice cracked, and the hood dipped low. "They were gone. All of them. The forest whispered their names, laughed in their voices. I searched. I screamed. I begged. But it was too late."
Emily felt a lump rise in her throat.
"What happened to you?"
"I found this place," Lila replied. "The forest's heart. And the forest found me. It needed a keeper—someone to watch. To listen. To remember the game."
"No," Emily breathed, backing away. "I won't be that. I won't let this happen."
"You already have," Lila said, lifting a hand.
The ground trembled beneath Emily's feet. Roots slithered like snakes under the soil, coiling near her boots. The air grew thick and damp, and shadows spilled from the trees, curling like smoke.
"You were chosen the moment you closed your eyes and began to count," Lila said. "That is how the cycle begins. One child seeks, and the rest are taken."
Emily clutched her chest, her breath growing ragged. "There has to be a way to stop it!"
Lila's voice softened. "I searched for centuries, but the forest cannot be killed. It is fed by fear. By innocence. It lures children with laughter and games, and then it drinks them dry."
"No," Emily muttered. "No. There must be a way."
For a moment, silence.
Then, the figure slowly lifted a pale, withered hand and pointed to the locket in Emily's palm.
"There is something different about you. The forest… fears you."
Emily blinked.
"Me?"
"You carry love into a place made of hunger," Lila whispered. "Memories. Hope. That weakens it."
The locket trembled in Emily's hand. It glowed faintly with warmth, and when she looked down, she saw her mother's picture staring up at her—smiling. Her voice echoed in Emily's mind: "Come home safe, sweet girl."
"I don't understand," Emily said. "What do I do?"
Lila turned her face upward. For the first time, the hood slipped slightly, revealing eyes hollow with sorrow and skin that seemed part bark, part bone.
"You have to finish the game."
Emily stiffened. "You mean… find them?"
"The forest feeds because no one wins," Lila said. "It traps them all. But if the Seeker finishes the game—truly finishes—it breaks the cycle. That is the only way."
Emily looked back toward the forest. The paths were endless, looping, filled with terror. But she remembered them all—every hiding place, every whisper, every shadow.
She remembered her friends' faces. Smiling. Laughing.
And she knew she couldn't leave them behind.
"Will you help me?" she asked Lila.
For a moment, the figure was silent.
Then, with a nod, Lila reached into her robe and drew out something small and sharp—a piece of wood carved into a delicate whistle.
"This belonged to the first Seeker," she said, offering it to Emily. "Blow it when you are lost. It will show you the path—just once."
Emily took it, her fingers brushing the ancient wood. It thrummed with strange energy.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Lila's form began to blur at the edges, dissolving into the wind.
"One more thing," she said, her voice fading. "When you find them… call them by name. Remind them who they were. That's the only way to pull them back."
Emily nodded. Her heart ached with fear—but also with purpose.
She would finish the game.
She would not become another ghost in these woods.
As Lila vanished into mist, the clearing shivered, and a path opened among the trees—straight and narrow, glowing faintly with moonlight.
Emily turned toward it, took a breath, and stepped forward.
Behind her, the shadows watched.
Ahead, the final round of the game began.