Emily's scream shattered the unnatural stillness of the clearing—but the figure did not move.
It stood there, cloaked in black, face obscured beneath a deep hood. No eyes. No expression. Just a shadow among shadows, darker than the night itself. The hem of its robe rippled though there was no wind.
Emily stumbled backward, her breath catching in her throat.
The figure raised an arm—long and slender, with fingers like sharpened twigs—and pointed at her. Slowly, its head tilted to the side, like it was studying her. Waiting. Deciding.
A familiar voice echoed in her ears.
"Ready or not…"
Emily turned and ran, barely noticing the tears that streamed down her cheeks. Her legs burned, her feet bruised from the uneven forest floor, but she didn't stop. The forest twisted again, reshaping itself into a cruel maze of dead ends and false paths.
Behind her, she heard footsteps. Not fast. Not frantic. Just steady. Patient.
It was following her.
No matter how far she ran.
The air grew colder, thick like fog, choking her lungs. Every tree looked the same. Every sound felt amplified—the snap of a twig, the flutter of wings overhead, her own heartbeat thudding wildly.
She tripped, hitting the ground hard.
Pain shot up her arms, and she groaned, rolling onto her side.
Then she saw it—a small, moss-covered gravestone, half-buried beneath the roots of a tree.
Emily sat up, brushing dirt away from the inscription.
LILA MARIE – AGE 9 – LOST, NEVER FOUND
Her blood ran cold.
Another name was etched beside it, barely legible.
RYAN – AGE 11 – MISSING
And another.
And another.
Dozens of names, scratched into stone by trembling hands, lost to time and the forest's hunger.
A chill ran down her spine.
They weren't just missing.
They had been taken.
Trapped here, like Ava. Like Marcus. Like… all the others.
Emily stood, her fingers brushing the cold, damp stone. "I'm not going to be next," she whispered fiercely, more to herself than anyone else.
From the trees, that lullaby rose again—slow and mournful, now layered with new voices. Children's voices. Emily clenched her fists and forced her legs to move, following the sound.
But instead of leading her deeper into the woods, the song pulled her uphill, toward an ancient, crumbling stone staircase that jutted from the earth like a spine. She hesitated at its base. The forest below felt alive, hostile. The staircase—despite its cracked, vine-wrapped steps—felt almost… untouched. Sacred.
The song continued, softer now, like it wanted her to follow.
She climbed.
Step by step, the air changed. It was thinner here, cleaner. The trees seemed less twisted. Stars peeked through the gaps in the canopy, and for a moment, she could pretend she was somewhere else. Somewhere safe.
At the top of the hill was a circle of standing stones, ancient and moss-covered. Carvings lined their surfaces—symbols she didn't understand, but that pulsed faintly with blue light as she approached.
In the center of the circle was a single wooden chair.
And on that chair…
Sat Sarah.
Her eyes were closed, her hands resting in her lap. She looked peaceful, as if asleep. But when Emily called out, "Sarah!" her body didn't move.
Not even a twitch.
Emily dropped beside her, shaking her shoulder. "Please—wake up! It's me. It's Emily. We have to go, now!"
Sarah's eyes opened.
But they were empty.
No recognition. No spark. Just endless black, as if the forest had hollowed her out and filled her with darkness.
And then she smiled.
"Tag," Sarah said softly. "You're it."
Emily reeled back.
Sarah stood slowly, every movement jerky, marionette-like. That horrible smile never left her face.
"You weren't supposed to find me," she said in a voice that wasn't hers. "But now that you have… the rules have changed."
The stones pulsed brighter.
The ground trembled.
And from between the trees, figures emerged—all of them.
Marcus.
Ava.
Devon.
Children Emily had never seen before—lost faces with sunken eyes and hollow voices. They formed a circle around the stones, trapping her inside.
Their voices joined together in a sing-song chant:
"Hide and seek is never done,
Not till all are caught or none.
You have seen, and now you know—
So into the dark, you too must go."
Emily stepped back toward the center, heart hammering, her gaze darting around for an escape.
Sarah took a step closer. Her eyes shimmered with inky blackness, the smile frozen on her face.
"You should've stayed hidden," she whispered.
Emily's scream was swallowed by the wind.
And then—everything changed.
The world shifted—a sudden, jarring pull like gravity reversing. The ground beneath the stone circle crumbled. The chair vanished. The trees fell away into shadows.
And Emily was falling.
Down…
Down…
Into something else.
The last thing she saw was the circle of children above her, watching with expressionless faces as the forest claimed her at last.