The room fell into a silence thick with unease. Each one slowly looked at the other — confused, disturbed, unsure what to make of what they'd just read.
Vera's voice came first, quiet and uncertain. "You think Ellis is using this stuff? The folklore?"
Leo nodded, still staring at the book. "Maybe he's not just twisted — maybe he believes it. Or he wants us to."
"Is that why we're here?" Ivy murmured. "He picked us for some… sick ritual, tied to this place?"
"Or... he's using the disappearances to his advantage so he can kill us easily without getting caught" Vera said in a panicked tone "think about it, the moving walls, the gas, the cold, and the locked doors?"
They stared at each other with unease at the new idea
Mason leaned against the cold wall, eyes locked on the shadows trembling in the corners. Then he spoke, breaking the fragile quiet.
> "Let's say we escape and Ellis doesn't finish us off. Where do we go? We're stranded on a freezing mountain, miles from help, no phone, no way down."
His voice wasn't panicked — it was grounded, painfully logical. The realism of it sank into the room like a stone in water.
For a moment, no one answered.
Then Ivy lifted her head. "There might be cars... somewhere. Or a main road. He had to get us here somehow, right?"
Leo glanced toward the hallway, tension in his jaw. "Unless he blocked every way out already."
Vera ran her thumb over the old keys she'd found, the metal cold against her skin. "Then we find another way. There has to be one."
The silence returned, but this time it wasn't confusion — it was decision.
They would try.
They had to.
_ _ _
They all stepped out of the room and rushed downstairs.
Vera wrapped her fingers tightly around the key, the rust biting against her skin. Without a word, she stepped toward the front doors.
She slid the key into the lock.
It clicked.
A moment passed, no one breathed. Then Mason pushed the door open.
A rush of frigid air slammed into them like a wall. It howled as it poured through the gap, carrying with it a cold that felt ancient — not just winter, but something older, wilder. Snowflakes spiraled down in uneven patterns, some clinging to their lashes, some melting instantly on the heat of their skin.
The wind scraped at their faces with invisible claws, sharp and stinging. The night outside was a suffocating black, broken only by the pale white glow of the snow-covered ground and the dull shimmer of ice on the trees beyond.
Every breath they took turned to steam in the air. Every sound — a boot crunch, a distant creak, a breath — echoed far too loud in the silence.
No lights.
No signs of life.
Just cold, vast wilderness.
Vera pulled her coat tighter. "We're really in the middle of nowhere."
Ivy's teeth were already chattering. "If there's a car, it's gotta be somewhere nearby. Garage, maybe. A path. Anything."
Mason looked around, eyes narrowed. "Stick close. Don't wander."
Leo glanced behind them once, to the open doorway. The darkness inside the hotel beckoning like a mouth waiting to swallow them back.
No one said it aloud, but they all felt it:
Out here might not be safer.
Not really.
But it was something.
They stepped out into the snow.
The cold wrapped around them like a living thing.
They stepped out from the hotel's flickering warmth into the frozen abyss of the mountain. Snow crunched under their boots, thick and uneven, already numbing their toes through damp socks. The wind howled like a wounded animal, flinging sharp flakes into their eyes and slicing their cheeks raw.
The snow crunched under their boots, uneven and treacherous, each step sinking into the powdery white. The cold wasn't just around them; it seeped into them, climbing through layers of clothing, curling inside bones, biting at joints. Every breath felt like inhaling shards of ice. It wasn't the kind of cold you could shake off — it lingered, gnawing at the skin, curling the edges of eyelashes, frosting their hair. Their cheeks stung, fingers throbbed, and a dull ache spread through every muscle. The wind seemed to find every exposed inch, whispering through scarves and collars like a presence brushing past them.
Shadows stretched and twisted across the snow, branches scratching at the dark sky, throwing impossible shapes in the pale light. The air smelled of frost and stone, old wood and distant smoke — but beneath it, there was something else: a faint, earthy tang that felt almost like decay, like the mountain had breathed something out just for them.