Two days. Two endless, suffocating days had passed since Old Man Henderson had unveiled the terrifying truth of the Ilinai and begun their "training." The cabin, once a place of illusory luxury, had become a prison. Every waking hour was a relentless, agonizing exercise in mental discipline, punctuated by Henderson's grim warnings and the ever-present hum of Jake's Locus, a constant reminder of the unseen predators lurking just beyond the veil of reality.
For Jake, the Suppression training was a constant battle against his own nature. He sat cross-legged for hours, sweat beading on his forehead, his entire being focused on compressing the boundless energy of the Cubix Power within him. It felt like trying to hold back a tidal wave with his bare hands. The headaches were constant, a dull, throbbing ache that intensified with every stray thought, every flicker of a desire to create. Henderson was a demanding, unyielding taskmaster, his piercing blue eyes missing nothing. "Too bright, boy! Your Locus is flaring! You're a beacon!" he would bark, his voice cutting through Jake's concentration. Jake yearned for the freedom of Aethelred's realm, for the effortless creation, but here, in the real world, his power was a curse, a magnet for monsters. The exhilaration of discovery had long since curdled into a bitter, exhausting struggle for survival.
Tiffany, surprisingly, had initially thrown herself into the Silence discipline with a fierce, almost desperate intensity. Her years of guarding her own vulnerabilities, of crafting a public persona, had given her a foundation in mental control. She visualized her mind as an impenetrable vault, locking away the terrifying knowledge of the Ilinai. But the sheer duration of the silence, the constant vigilance, the inability to vent her fear or frustration, began to fray her nerves. Her usual outlet was gossip, manipulation, control through words. Now, she was forced into absolute internal lockdown. The cabin, with its oppressive stillness, felt claustrophobic. She paced her illusory room at night, the fake walls offering no real escape from the terrifying thoughts swirling in her head. The fear of the Ilinai was real, but so was the suffocating boredom and the profound sense of helplessness. She wasn't used to being powerless, to being controlled, to being silent.
But it was Katy who reached her breaking point first. Her Anchoring discipline was a constant, agonizing battle against her own heart. She was supposed to be a calm lake, a steady shield for Jake, but her mind was a tempest of worry about their parents. Two days. Two days of unanswered calls, of vague, hastily sent texts that she knew wouldn't reassure them. She imagined their mom, frantic, calling every friend, every relative, every hospital. She pictured their dad, calm on the surface but seething with quiet panic, coordinating a search. The idea of them calling the police, of official search parties inadvertently leading the Ilinai straight to this hidden cabin, was a constant, gnawing terror.
Every time she tried to calm her emotions, the worry for her parents surged, a powerful, overwhelming wave. She felt a profound sense of guilt, a crushing burden of responsibility. She was lying to them, endangering them, all because of Jake's impossible powers and his reckless decision to bring Tiffany here. The anger at Jake, suppressed for the sake of the "anchoring," simmered beneath the surface, a hot, volatile current. She tried to meditate, as Henderson had instructed, to focus on her breathing, but the image of her parents' worried faces kept intruding, shattering her concentration. Her emotional ripples were constant, small tremors around Jake, making his own suppression harder.
"Katy, your emotions are flaring again!" Henderson would snap, his voice sharp, pulling her from her agonizing thoughts. "You are compromising his Locus! Control yourself!"
"I can't!" Katy finally burst out on the second afternoon, her voice raw, tears streaming down her face. She was sitting on the rug, her knees drawn to her chest, her body shaking. "I can't just stop worrying about them! They're our parents, Jake! They're probably going crazy looking for us! What if they think something terrible has happened? What if they call the police? What if they come here themselves?"
Jake, exhausted from his own suppression efforts, looked up, his face pale and drawn. "Katy, he said—"
"I know what he said!" Katy interrupted, her voice rising to a near shout. "He said they'd be in danger if they knew! But what about the danger of them not knowing?! What about the danger of them looking for us and accidentally leading those… those things here?! This is hell, Jake! This whole thing is hell! I can't do this anymore!"
Tiffany, who had been sitting stiffly, her face a mask of weary endurance, slowly turned her head. She looked at Katy, then at Jake, then at the old man, who was watching them with a grim, unyielding expression. The constant fear, the endless mental strain, the suffocating silence – it was all taking its toll. She had always prided herself on her resilience, her ability to adapt, but this was beyond anything she had ever faced. The luxury of the illusion felt like a mockery, a cruel joke. She missed her phone, her friends, her car, her superficial, predictable life. At least in that life, she knew the rules. Here, there were no rules, only terrifying, unseen monsters and a constant, draining battle against her own mind.
"She's right," Tiffany said, her voice surprisingly quiet, but firm. Jake and Katy both stared at her, stunned. It was the first time she had truly agreed with Katy on anything. "This is insane. We're just sitting here, waiting to be eaten by… by energy parasites. And for what? So Jake can learn to be a less obvious target? My grandpa has been doing this for years, and he still looks like he's about to have a heart attack every time a twig snaps."
Henderson's eyes narrowed, a flicker of something akin to anger in their blue depths. "This is about survival, children! This is about protecting yourselves, protecting the Locus! You think you can just walk away from this?"
"Yes!" Katy cried, scrambling to her feet, her legs unsteady. "Yes, we can! We're going home! We're going to call our parents, tell them we're safe, and we're going to try and forget any of this ever happened!" Her voice was laced with a desperate, almost pathetic hope.
"You cannot 'forget' the Cubix, child!" Henderson boomed, rising from his chair, his presence suddenly immense, filling the illusory room. "Once you know, you know! Once the Locus is active, it is active! You are marked! You are a beacon! You will be found! And if you leave this sanctuary, if you go back to your old lives, you will lead them straight to your home! To your parents! To your friends! Do you understand the consequences of your foolishness?!"
"And what's the alternative?!" Tiffany retorted, pushing herself to her feet, her own voice rising, fueled by a sudden, desperate surge of defiance. The fear was still there, but it was now mixed with a furious, almost rebellious, frustration. "Stay here and starve? Or wait for forty invisible monsters to phase through the walls and suck out our souls?! This isn't training, old man! This is torture! And it's pointless! You haven't told us how to fight them, only how to hide like a terrified hermit! That's not a life! That's just… waiting to die!"
"This is the only way to survive!" Henderson thundered, his face grim, his eyes burning. "This is the only path! My ancestors have lived this path for generations! It is the only way to protect the Locus!"
"Well, it's not our path!" Katy declared, her voice trembling but resolute. She looked at Tiffany, and for the first time, there was no animosity, only a shared, desperate resolve. "We're leaving. We're going home. We'll figure something else out. Anything is better than this."
Tiffany nodded, a single, decisive movement. "Agreed. I'd rather take my chances with the gossip at school than with invisible energy vampires in the woods. At least I understand the rules of that game."
Jake stood frozen between them, his mind reeling. He looked at Henderson, whose face was a mask of grim determination, then at Katy, her eyes blazing with a desperate, defiant hope, and finally at Tiffany, her usual poise replaced by a raw, exhausted resolve. He was caught in the middle, torn between the terrifying truth of Henderson's warnings and the desperate, human need for normalcy that Katy and Tiffany embodied.
He knew Henderson was right. He knew the danger was real. His Locus was a beacon. But the thought of living like this, in constant fear, in absolute isolation, lying to everyone he cared about, felt like a slow death. And Katy's pain, her worry for their parents, was unbearable. He had brought them here. He had dragged them into this. And now, they wanted out.
"Jake?" Katy pleaded, her voice softer now, reaching out a hand to him. "Please. Let's just go home. Please."
Tiffany, surprisingly, didn't add her own demand. She simply watched him, her expression grim, waiting for his decision.
Jake took a deep, shuddering breath. The Locus within him pulsed, a faint, insistent hum. He closed his eyes for a moment, picturing his room, the portal, the boundless realm of Aethelred. Then he pictured his parents, their faces etched with worry. He pictured Michael and Jane, oblivious, laughing. He pictured the empty house, the life he had so carelessly endangered.
He opened his eyes. "Okay," he said, his voice quiet, barely a whisper. "Okay. Let's go home."
Henderson let out a frustrated growl, a sound of deep, ancient despair. "Fools! You are walking into a trap! You are signing your own death warrants!"
But Jake, Katy, and Tiffany were already moving. Katy grabbed Jake's arm, pulling him towards the door. Tiffany, with a final, defiant glance at her grandpa, followed them. They walked past the illusory fireplace, the gleaming furniture, the impossible luxury, towards the heavy oak door that led back to the real, dilapidated cabin exterior.
Henderson watched them go, his shoulders slumped, his face a picture of profound defeat. "You will regret this," he murmured, his voice barely audible, echoing in the suddenly empty, illusory room. "You will regret this more than anything."
They pushed open the heavy door, stepping out into the fading afternoon light. The cabin, once again, looked small and worn, its illusion of grandeur gone. The air was still humid, the forest still dense and silent. But now, the silence felt less like peace and more like a vast, waiting emptiness. They climbed back into the family sedan, the familiar scent of old upholstery a strange comfort after the illusory perfection.
Katy started the engine, the familiar rumble a welcome sound. She put the car in reverse, turning it slowly on the narrow track. Tiffany sat in the passenger seat, her gaze fixed on the rearview mirror, watching the cabin recede into the shadows of the trees. Jake, in the back, felt a profound sense of relief, mixed with a chilling certainty that they were making a terrible mistake. They were leaving the only sanctuary, the only source of knowledge, and heading straight back into the path of the unseen hunters. The summer holiday, far from being a time of carefree fun, had become a desperate, terrifying flight. And the road home was fraught with unseen perils.