The forest was dying around them.
What had once been a path now seemed nothing more than tangled roots and whispering trees that pressed in from every side, swallowing light and hope alike. Even the air carried weight, thick with damp earth and the faint, cloying scent of moss.
"Aiden… I think we're lost," Tyler said at last, breaking the silence. His voice was scarcely louder than a whisper, but in the stillness it echoed, trembling like a confession.
Aiden's scoff cut through the air, sharp as a blade. "Lost? Damn it, Tyler, I told you we should've stayed in the hunting zone. But no, you had to push deeper, didn't you?" He swept his gaze skyward, watching the last sliver of sun bleed into twilight. Shadows stretched long and thin, clawing across the ground. "Perfect. Now it's night."
A laugh, light and confident, drifted behind them. Serena stepped forward, a sly grin curving her lips. "You two panic too easily. I knew Tyler would get us into trouble, so I marked the trees on the way." She gestured proudly toward the trunks. "We'll find our way back."
But the smile froze on her face.
The trees stared back, unmarked. Smooth. Clean. Not a trace of her careful slashes.
Her confidence faltered. "No… I marked them. I know I did."
"Pathetic," Aiden muttered, brushing past her. He'd taken only a few steps before he stopped dead. His breath hitched, and his voice came low, strangled. "Wait. Look."
They followed his gaze.
There, in the clearing, something impossibly out of place rose from the earth.
A staircase.
Its pale stone shimmered faintly, untouched by dirt or moss, each step polished smooth as though carved yesterday. It ascended into the air, detached from any ruin or structure. Steps that led nowhere, vanishing into shadow.
Tyler grabbed Aiden's arm, his grip iron-tight. "Don't you know the stories? About the staircases in the woods? You're never supposed to climb them." His voice shook. "People disappear. They don't come back."
Aiden barked out a laugh, too harsh, too loud. Serena followed, though the sound wavered with unease.
"Seriously, Tyler?" Aiden said, shaking him off. "Fairy tales? You expect me to believe that crap?"
Without another word, he stepped onto the first stone. Serena's boots followed, echoing with defiance.
The forest fell utterly silent, as if listening.
Tyler's chest rose and fell in rapid beats. He wanted to run, to drag them back, but the gnawing weight of curiosity pressed on him like a hand at his spine. And so, hesitantly, step by step, he climbed after them.
At first, there was nothing. Just the crunch of leaves below, the sigh of wind high above. No curse. No thunder. Only silence—silence that thickened, pressed close, as though the world itself waited.
Then the howl came.
It tore through the night, long and mournful, a sound that did not belong to anything natural. Tyler's blood ran cold. From the treeline, eyes flared—golden, green, red—shifting, prowling. Shapes moved within the shadows, bodies too large, too swift.
"Wolves!" Serena shrieked, her bravado collapsing into terror. "Tyler—hurry!"
The beasts surged forward. Rifles snapped to shoulders, but the shadows darted, faster than bullets, hungrier than fear.
"Higher, Aiden! Go higher!"
"I can't!" Aiden's voice cracked. "The steps end here—I'll fall!" His back slammed into something solid. His hand groped—iron. A handle. A door where none should exist.
"Guys," he whispered, his voice shaking. "There's… a door."
"Not now!" Tyler barked, firing into the dark.
A wolf, massive and black as night itself, lunged onto the staircase. Its eyes burned like embers, its maw a promise of death. Bullets riddled its flesh, but the beast did not falter. Its growl reverberated through the stone.
Aiden had no choice. He yanked the door open.
The world collapsed.
The ground fell away, the forest vanished, and the three of them plummeted into nothingness. Wind roared in their ears, a cacophony of screams and shadows. They tumbled endlessly, weightless, until the fall ended with bone-jarring violence.
Cold marble embraced them.
Groaning, gasping, they staggered upright. And froze.
They were not in the forest anymore.
An enormous hall stretched around them, the air sharp with a strange, metallic chill. Chandeliers of beaten gold hung from the high vaults, their pale flames burning weakly, as if unwilling to illuminate too much. Shadows clung stubbornly to the corners, whispering secrets of their own.
Velvet drapes hung heavy against towering windows. A carpet, thick and immaculate, stretched endlessly across the floor, untouched by time or dust.
But it was the clock that silenced them.
A grandfather clock loomed at the far end. Its pendulum swayed with hypnotic grace, yet its hands crawled steadily backward, unspooling time in deliberate defiance of reason.
Tyler's voice cracked, barely audible. "This… this isn't real."
Portraits stared from the walls, dozens of them—noble men and women in finery of ages long gone. Their painted eyes gleamed with something unnatural, watching, judging. Serena flinched at one in particular, the piercing gaze of a woman so lifelike it felt as though she breathed.
They searched desperately for escape—doors, corridors, stairs. But every attempt betrayed them. Every door led them back to the hall. Back to the clock. Back to the portraits.
The scratches they carved? Gone. Serena's earring? Vanished.
Tyler's fists hammered the wall. "We're trapped! Rats in a maze!"
As though mocking him, the clock chimed. Each toll was deep, metallic, shuddering through their bones. Its hands spun backward with every strike, dragging them deeper into something beyond time itself.
Panic grew. Serena whispered prayers. Aiden paced like a caged beast. Tyler glared at the portraits, swearing their eyes gleamed brighter, their smiles sharper.
Finally, Aiden snapped. His shout thundered against the marble.
"Damn you! Whoever you are—show yourself! Enough games!"
The echo faded. Silence pressed in.
Then—
Tap.
The crisp strike of a cane against stone.
Tap… tap…
From the shadows above the staircase, she appeared.
A woman. Regal. Impossibly poised. Her gown was darkness itself, flowing like liquid night. Silver hair gleamed beneath the weak chandelier glow, pinned with immaculate care. A ring of crimson burned on her hand, its gem like a droplet of blood suspended in fire.
Her smile unfurled slowly, unsettling in its grace.
"At last," she said, her voice smooth as velvet, cold as the grave. "Visitors."
The cane clicked once more as she descended.
"Welcome… to the Castle of Winds."