Samara slowed her steps as she passed her aunt's room, every sense alert despite the early hour. The house was still, wrapped in the heavy silence that came just before dawn. She paused, listening.
Nothing.
Not a cough. Not the creak of shifting sheets. Only the steady rhythm of breathing beyond the thin wooden door.
Hibernating, she confirmed inwardly.
Good.
She moved again, lighter this time, though her heart thundered as if it meant to betray her. The decision had already been made hours ago—but now that it was time to act, there was no room left for hesitation.
Her room greeted her with shadows and half-packed memories. She didn't waste time reminiscing. Clothes were folded and shoved into her bag with ruthless efficiency. Essentials only. Anything sentimental was left behind. She had learned long ago that attachments were liabilities.
As she tightened the strap of her bag, her jaw clenched.
Whatever you've done to me… whatever you think you can take from me… it ends today.
A bitter thought surfaced, sharp enough to draw blood.
So cowardly. Showing up in the dead of night, whispering lies—then vanishing before morning.
She exhaled slowly and pushed the thought down. Rage would keep her moving, but recklessness would get her killed.
When she stepped into the corridor, the house seemed to watch her leave. The wooden floorboards groaned softly beneath her feet, but she didn't slow. She slipped outside just as the sky began to pale, the horizon brushed with faint silver.
She had expected Josh to be gone.
He wasn't.
He stood near the gate, arms folded, posture casual yet alert, as if he'd been guarding the place all night. The sight of him stirred something uneasy in her chest—annoyance mixed with a reluctant sense of relief.
"I thought you were gone," she said coolly as she passed him, not breaking stride.
"And you thought wrong," Josh replied, falling into step behind her.
Her footsteps stopped.
She turned her head just enough for him to see her expression.
Stop.
It wasn't a command spoken aloud, yet it landed like one. Josh halted instantly, confusion flickering across his face as she continued walking, her back straight, her pace unbroken.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"Remember to keep my aunt in the dark," she called over her shoulder. "Cover for me."
Josh frowned, then sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You really don't plan on explaining anything, do you?"
"No."
A pause.
"And you remember to be careful," he shouted after her.
She lifted a hand in a lazy wave without turning around. "I will. I still value my life, after all."
That earned a quiet, humorless laugh from him—but she was already too far to hear it clearly.
The town faded behind her, its familiar paths and muted sounds dissolving with each step forward. The neat houses gave way to rough terrain, and the air itself seemed to change—thicker, heavier, laced with something ancient.
The forest awaited.
Its presence loomed like a living entity, vast and unwelcoming. Towering trees blocked out the sky, their branches interlocking like skeletal fingers. Sunlight struggled to reach the ground, and what little did arrive was distorted, fragmented.
Her heart pounded violently.
Not from fear.
From anticipation.
She welcomed it—the sharp edge of purpose, the thrill of walking toward something that could finally give her answers. Or blood. Possibly both.
She traveled for miles, boots crunching over dead leaves and twisted roots. The deeper she went, the more oppressive the silence became. No birds. No insects. Even the wind seemed reluctant to move.
And yet… nothing attacked her.
No lurking beasts. No ambush. No cursed creature leaping from the shadows.
Disappointment settled in slowly.
So this is the infamous cursed forest? she thought dryly. I've walked through worse.
Doubt crept in despite herself. Had the stories been exaggerated? Was this place nothing more than a superstition clung to by fearful villagers?
She didn't notice the way the forest subtly shifted around her path—how unseen creatures retreated deeper into hiding, how the air recoiled when the ring on her finger caught the light.
That ring.
Old. Unassuming. And feared.
As she neared the heart of the forest, the temperature dropped abruptly. Her breath fogged faintly, and a strange pressure settled behind her eyes.
Then—
"Samara… come here, dear."
The voice brushed against her ear like a lover's whisper.
Her body went rigid.
"It's me," the voice continued softly. "Your mother."
Samara's fingers twitched, instinctively curling into fists.
"I didn't abandon you," the woman murmured, sorrow woven into every syllable. "She took you from me."
Samara turned slowly toward the sound, eyes scanning the shadows between the trees.
"Mother?" she whispered before she could stop herself.
The word tasted foreign.
Then memory surged forward like cold water.
The hut.
Her gaze sharpened as she oriented herself again. She was close—too close to be distracted by cheap tricks.
A slow, mocking smile touched her lips.
"I'll be back," she said calmly, addressing the unseen presence. "I have matters to attend to first."
She took a step forward, then paused.
"And for the record," she added, voice turning cold, "I know you're not my mother. Even if you were, I wouldn't care enough to listen."
Silence followed—thick, offended.
She scoffed. "Since you're so desperate for my attention, you can wait."
She turned away without another glance.
The hut emerged from the trees moments later, half-swallowed by vines and rot. It looked exactly as she remembered—and yet not at all.
A wound in the forest.
As she approached, memories resurfaced violently. The fear. The confusion. The feeling of being watched. This time, though, there was something new.
Chanting.
Low and rhythmic, vibrating beneath her skin. Words she didn't recognize scraped against her mind, as if trying to burrow inside.
Her anger ignited.
She pushed the door open.
Cold air rushed out, extinguishing the faint hope burning in her chest.
The room was empty.
The fireplace lay dead, ash long settled and untouched. The air was stale, heavy with abandonment. No warmth. No presence.
No him.
She stepped inside slowly, eyes scanning every corner, every shadow. Nothing. Not a trace that anyone had been there recently.
Her nails bit into her palms.
Gone
Again.
Her chest tightened, fury boiling beneath the surface until it threatened to spill over.
Fuck, she cursed silently.
And somewhere deep within the forest, something listened.