Samara woke up with a lingering heaviness in her body, the kind that made her limbs feel slow and her thoughts dull. For a few moments, she lay still on her bed, staring at the ceiling as fragments of sleep clung stubbornly to her mind. Something about the night felt wrong—unfinished—but the details slipped through her grasp no matter how hard she tried to catch them.
With a quiet sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood.
The air outside was cool and damp, carrying the faint scent of earth and morning dew. Samara stepped out to the wash area, rolling her shoulders as if trying to shake off the tension knotted there. She cupped water in her hands and splashed it over her face, gasping softly at the cold. Droplets ran down her cheeks, dripping from her chin as she leaned closer to the basin.
Get a grip, she told herself. It was just a restless night.
As she washed her face again, she heard light footsteps behind her.
She didn't look up.
She didn't need to.
"I heard rumours from town," a voice said quietly.
Samara's hands paused in the water for a fraction of a second before she reached for the towel draped around her neck. She wiped her face slowly, deliberately, as if giving herself time to prepare. Only then did she straighten and turn.
Josh stood a few steps away, his expression caught somewhere between concern and hesitation.
"Listen here, Josh," she said, her tone sharp and serious. "If you're here to lecture me, you'd better go your way. Right now, I'm really not in the mood. Seriously."
Josh shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable. He wasn't used to Samara speaking like this—without sarcasm, without a teasing grin to soften the blow. This was raw, unfiltered Samara, and it unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
Still, he didn't leave.
Samara and Josh had met three years ago, not long after she and her aunt Elise moved to the town. Josh could still remember that day with painful clarity. He'd been cornered, scared out of his mind, when Samara appeared like a force of nature. She hadn't asked questions. She hadn't hesitated. She had defended him without expecting anything in return.
After that, he'd stuck to her relentlessly, insisting she train him in taekwondo. At first, she'd brushed him off, but eventually she gave in. Somewhere between bruised knuckles and endless practice sessions, an unlikely friendship had formed.
Samara had always been there for him.
Now, it was his turn.
"Your aunt doesn't know, does she?" he asked cautiously.
Samara scoffed, crossing her arms. "Of course she doesn't. Sometimes I honestly pity myself for having such a dumb friend like you."
Josh winced internally, but he didn't react. He knew her well enough to understand that her words didn't carry the cruelty they seemed to. This was just how she spoke when she was uneasy.
"Are you going to tell me what's up with you?" he asked, his voice steady but serious.
Samara broke eye contact and crouched down, reaching for her boots. She slipped one on, then the other, tightening the laces with more force than necessary.
"Nope," she said flatly. "It's complicated."
Josh watched her hands move, noticing the tension in her fingers.
She paused, then lowered her voice slightly.
"But I'll let you in on a secret."
Josh's heart skipped. "What is it?"
Samara straightened and looked at him directly.
"I'm going to the cursed forest."
For a moment, Josh thought he'd misheard her.
Then the words sank in.
"Are you fucking insane?" he exclaimed, his eyes widening. "There's a cursed being in there!"
He let out a disbelieving scoff. "I see you've finally lost it."
"Maybe," Samara replied calmly, unfazed by his reaction.
Josh ran a hand through his hair, frustration and fear twisting in his chest. "What did your aunt say about this?She can't possibly let you walk to your own grave."
"Nothing," Samara said. "This is her hibernating period. She doesn't have to know."
Josh froze. "Samara, listen to me."
He took a breath, forcing himself to slow down.
"The legend says the cursed being in that forest used to be a prince," he began. "A thousand years ago."
Samara's movements stilled.
Josh continued, encouraged by her sudden attention. "They say he was so powerful that people feared him just by hearing his name. Not because he was cruel—but because no one could control him."
She said nothing, her expression unreadable.
"So they decided to get rid of him," Josh continued. "A witch, instructed by his own father, used the woman he loved to get close to him. Her betrayal sealed his fate, trapping him in a hut deep within the cursed forest."
Josh swallowed. "Only a fated one—from a specific lineage—can free him. But whoever does gets cursed as well."
A heavy silence fell between them.
"And if you're not fated?" Samara asked quietly.
Josh met her gaze. "Then he kills you."
For a heartbeat, Samara said nothing.
Then her lips curved slightly—not into a smile, but something sharp and calculating.
"So," she said slowly, "does the one who frees him become the master?"
Josh stared at her in disbelief. "No!" he snapped. "Absolutely not!"
Her eyes glinted faintly, excitement flickering beneath the surface.
"Well," she shrugged, "that's unfortunate."
Josh felt panic rise. "You're still going, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Samara—this isn't a joke."
"Him and I need to talk," she said calmly.
Josh's voice cracked. "What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing you'd understand," she replied.
She stood up, dusted off her pants, and adjusted the strap of her bag.
"I'm just going to grab my staff and vamoose," she added casually. "And remember—if my aunt comes out of her hibernation, cover for me."
Josh threw his hands up in disbelief. "Why does she even hibernate for? Is she a bat or something?"
Samara paused at the doorway.
For a split second, Josh thought she might turn back.
Instead, she walked inside without answering.