The thick shadows of the forest swallowed them as they walked, the world shifting subtly with each step—reality bending at the edges like wet paint smearing across canvas. Every sense went on high alert as the forest seemed to transform, no longer just woodland but something more deliberate, more designed. A labyrinth masquerading as nature.
Paths that had been clear moments ago suddenly twisted back on themselves, creating impossible loops. Trees that should have been twenty feet apart now pressed close enough that their branches intertwined overhead, blocking out what little light remained.
The air itself felt thicker here, harder to breathe, weighted with intention.
Javi narrowed his gaze, studying the trees with the observational skills that had been beaten into him through weeks of brutal training. Something was wrong—wronger than the supernatural wolf, wronger than the looping pattern, wrong in a way that made his instincts scream. "Are the trees... are they moving? Pulling closer together?"
Rukawa stopped dead—then slowly, deliberately turned his head, scanning the treeline with narrowed eyes that missed nothing. His hand came up instinctively, fingers splayed in a signal Javi recognized: hold position.
"Not pulling." Rukawa reached out cautiously, brushing his fingers against the bark of a nearby oak—or what looked like an oak, though the bark texture was subtly wrong, too smooth in places, too rough in others. "They're... shifting. Repositioning themselves. On their own."
The bark was warm. Living trees shouldn't feel warm like that—body temperature warm, like touching skin.
Javi took an involuntary step back, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper that barely carried. "Okay. That's officially new territory. Trees aren't supposed to do that unless we're trapped in some cursed fairy tale."
The compass in Javi's hand suddenly grew warmer—noticeably warmer, almost uncomfortably so—and the needle didn't just point anymore. It vibrated, trembling like a tuning fork, like it was reacting to something ahead that only it could sense.
The fogged glass seemed to clear slightly, the brass glowing with faint luminescence.
Rukawa noticed immediately, his tactical mind cataloging the change. His voice was quiet but certain: "It knows. The compass is responding to something."
Javi gripped the compass tighter, knuckles whitening, and looked ahead into the deepening darkness between trees that definitely hadn't been that close together thirty seconds ago. He sighed—a sound mixing resignation with determination. "Then we need to go inside. Into whatever fresh hell this is."
Rukawa stepped forward first without hesitation, pushing aside a curtain of twisted vines that seemed almost alive—coiling away from his touch like snakes recoiling from fire, like they were genuinely afraid of human contact. The way they moved wasn't natural. Wasn't plant-like at all.
"Then we go." His voice was calm, steady, the eye of the storm. "But stay close. Within arm's reach. And don't let go of the compass. It's not just showing direction anymore—it's guiding us. There's a difference."
Javi swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry, and nodded. He stepped in behind Rukawa as the trees seemed to deliberately close in around them, shadows stretching like skeletal fingers across the path they'd just taken, erasing evidence of their passage.
"Just so you know," Javi muttered, trying to keep his voice light despite the creeping dread, "this feeling is... weirdly familiar to me. I don't know why. Like déjà vu, but stronger. More concrete."
Rukawa's eyebrows lifted slightly—surprise breaking through his usual composure. He glanced back over his shoulder. "Then maybe your life isn't what you think it is. Maybe there are pieces missing you don't remember."
Javi bit his lip, considering the statement with unusual seriousness. The humor drained from his expression. "You've got a point. Maybe..." He looked around at the shifting forest, the impossible geometry, the sense of recognition he couldn't explain. "Maybe this is the key to figuring out the mystery of my life. The gaps. The things that don't quite add up."
Rukawa gave a faint smirk—though calling it a smirk was generous, more like his mouth twitched upward by a millimeter. "Maybe it is. Maybe not. Sometimes mysteries are meant to stay mysteries. Sometimes digging up the past just creates new problems."
The compass twitched again—a sharp, insistent tug pulling Javi's hand slightly to the left. Rukawa immediately changed course, shifting their path at an angle that seemed random but clearly wasn't.
Javi frowned, his pattern-recognition brain noting the deviation. "Why'd you turn that way? The compass was pointing straight ahead. That doesn't look like forward."
Rukawa didn't stop walking, but his voice remained steady, patient. "Because the compass corrected itself. The forest is actively shifting the path beneath us—we have to shift with it, anticipate the changes. It's not leading us forward in a straight line... it's leading us true. There's a difference between the shortest path and the right path."
Javi blinked, processing that, then looked down at the brass compass. The needle had settled firmly now, pointing with absolute confidence, glowing faintly beneath the fogged glass like bioluminescence.
"...You just got poetic on me," he muttered, somewhere between impressed and unnerved. "I don't know whether to applaud or be scared that you're having philosophical revelations in a death forest."
Rukawa glanced back—just once, just briefly—and there was something almost warm in his eyes. Almost playful, if Rukawa did playful. "Stick around. You might see more surprises. I contain multitudes."
Javi rolled his eyes dramatically but couldn't quite suppress his grin. "Did you just quote poetry at me? What is happening right now?"
"Keep walking, Garcia."
"Yeah, yeah."
They moved forward through increasingly narrow passages between trees, the path becoming more confined with each step. Eventually they entered what could only be described as a tree alley—trunks so close together on either side that Javi could touch both simultaneously if he extended his arms.
The canopy overhead had closed completely, creating a tunnel of living wood.
Their footsteps echoed oddly in the confined space. Each step on grass that should have been silent somehow produced sound—soft, rhythmic, almost musical.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
They walked for what felt like several minutes, the compass pulling them forward with increasing insistence, the needle vibrating more intensely.
Then Javi noticed something that made his stomach drop.
"...Hey." He stopped walking. "We're not getting any closer, are we?"
Rukawa slowed to a halt, scanning their surroundings with the methodical precision of a machine running diagnostics.
Every direction looked identical: the same trees stretching away into shadow, the same spacing, the same everything. He looked at Javi, and there was something in his expression—frustration mixing with analytical determination.
"That could only mean we're doing something wrong. Missing something."
Javi ran a hand through his hair, frustration and genuine fear creeping into his voice. "But what? We're following the compass like we're supposed to. We're watching for tricks, for traps. We're not just blindly charging ahead like idiots—"
Rukawa shook his head, cutting him off. "That's not what I mean." He pointed deliberately at the surrounding trees. "Look at them. Really look. Observe, don't just see."
Javi followed his gaze—and realization crashed over him like cold water.
The trees were exact. Perfect copies. Identical trunks down to the smallest detail—same knots, same bark patterns, same branch configurations. Shadows cast by unseen light sources fell in exactly the same angles. Even the grass beneath their feet was uniform—same height, same color, same density.
Not a single variation. Not one.
His eyes widened as the pieces clicked together. "I think I know... there's a pattern! This is too perfect to be natural. It's symmetrical, like... like a rhythm. A beat. This whole section is designed like music."
Rukawa nodded, his expression unreadable except for the sharp focus burning in his eyes. "Correct."
Javi exhaled, trying to stay focused through the rising sense of disorientation that threatened to overwhelm him. His brain felt foggy, like the forest itself was trying to confuse his thoughts. "So we just have to find the rhythm in the pattern and... break it. Disrupt the loop."
Rukawa glanced around as if studying the trees with renewed attention—looking for something neither of them could see but both could feel. "Yes. But we also have to trust our instincts over our eyes. Something in here is deliberately trying to confuse us. The forest might be designed specifically to misdirect, to make us doubt what we know."
Javi looked down at the compass again, an idea forming. He tried shaking it experimentally—not violently, but with deliberate motion. "Let's see if this changes anything..."
Rukawa glanced at him with open curiosity. "What are you doing with the compass?"
"Just seeing if it reacts differently, you know? Maybe there's something we're supposed to do with it. Some action that triggers the next phase." Javi explained, shaking the device like it was a stubborn piece of technology that needed percussive maintenance.
Rukawa gave a slight chuckle—rare enough to be noteworthy. "That doesn't seem like a scientifically sound strategy."
"Well if you've got any better ideas, genius, I'm all ears," Javi shot back, exasperation bleeding through despite his attempts at control.
Rukawa looked ahead thoughtfully, his analytical mind clearly processing multiple variables. "When you want to disrupt the rhythm of anything—music, patterns, expectations—what do you usually do?"
Javi paused mid-shake, thinking. His mind raced through musical theory from a childhood he barely remembered, from piano lessons his mother had insisted on before... before everything changed. Then he snapped his fingers, the sound oddly loud in the oppressive silence. "You... change the beat. Syncopation. Off-rhythm. You break the expected pattern."
He looked down at the compass again, then at the ground beneath their feet. The identical trees. The perfect spacing. The too-silent forest that somehow made sound when they walked.
"...What if we don't walk in rhythm with it? What if we're supposed to move unpredictably?"
Rukawa gave a small nod—one that communicated volumes. Finally. There you are. I was wondering when you'd figure it out.
"Step out of sync. Break the pattern deliberately. Make ourselves chaos in the system."
Without another word, without warning or countdown, Rukawa took two quick steps forward—then stopped dead for exactly three heartbeats, standing perfectly still—before taking one exaggeratedly slow step forward.
Javi blinked, processing what he'd just seen—then grinned with sudden understanding and followed suit. He stepped fast twice, paused longer than felt natural, then deliberately leaped sideways off the path entirely, landing hard on uneven moss that squelched wetly beneath his boots.
The second his feet hit the moss—
CRACK.
The sound was unmistakable. Like glass breaking beneath their feet—except there was no glass, no physical thing fracturing. It was the sound of reality itself cracking, of illusion shattering.
And just like that, as suddenly as flipping a switch, the rows of identical trees began to blur... shift... peel apart like layers of an onion being stripped away.
The illusion dissolved.
A narrow trail revealed itself—to their right, where it had apparently been all along—and something new stood at its end: a single red door embedded directly into what had been solid tree trunk just moments before. The door was old, weathered, paint peeling, brass handle tarnished with age. It looked completely out of place and yet somehow inevitable.
Rukawa glanced at Javi, and there was something in his expression—respect, maybe. Recognition.
"...You figured it out. The pattern."
Javi smirked breathlessly, adrenaline and satisfaction mixing. "We both did. Team effort. Don't hog all the credit."
"Whatever you say."
"Uh-huh."
And then--
They approached the door cautiously, both hyperaware that anything could be a trap. Rukawa reached for the handle first, testing it gently. It turned easily, smoothly, as if the door had been waiting for them specifically.
Beyond: darkness. Complete and absolute.
Rukawa pushed the door open fully and stepped through. Javi followed immediately, not wanting to be separated.
The transition was instantaneous and jarring.
One moment: the tree tunnel and red door.
Next moment: somewhere else entirely.
A sudden warping sound rippled through the air—like reality hiccupping, like the universe skipping a beat. The sensation was nauseating, disorienting, making Javi's inner ear scream protest. But they were both completely oblivious to just how significant that transition had been, how far they'd actually traveled.
At the other side...
Javi stretched his limbs with obvious relief, rolling his shoulders, cracking his neck. "Phew!! That was easier than I expected! I mean, still terrifying, but we're alive and nothing ate us, so I'm calling it a win!"
Rukawa cut him off with two words, flat and certain: "We're not done."
Javi's relief evaporated. "What?"
Ahead, a familiar whoosh of wind swept past them—carrying scents that didn't match the previous forest. The air pressure changed. The light quality shifted.
They were in another forest. A different forest dimension. Again.
But this one felt... different.
The sun—actual, genuine sunlight, not that diffuse supernatural glow—shone through the canopy with warm afternoon intensity. The quality of light suggested late afternoon, maybe 4:00 PM. The temperature was warmer. Birds actually sang in the distance. The forest breathed.
This felt... real.
Javi swallowed hard, looking around the unfamiliar-yet-somehow-familiar landscape with wide eyes. "Goddamnit. How many more forests do we have to go through before this test actually ends? Is this like Russian nesting dolls but with death forests?"
Rukawa took a deliberate step forward, still scanning their surroundings with professional thoroughness. "As many as necessary. At least we're not dead yet."
Javi blew out a breath, following close at his heels. "That's one way to look at it. Glass half full. But that does not make it less shitty."
Rukawa glanced over his shoulder. He didn't speak, but the slight arch in his eyebrow and the faint smirk said everything: Stop complaining. It could always be worse.
Javi dropped to the ground without ceremony, sitting heavily on soft grass that felt real beneath him. He exhaled deeply. "Wait. Let me just... catch my breath, I guess. And think. My brain needs a minute to process the fact that we just walked through dimensions like it's normal."
Rukawa nodded and leaned against a nearby tree trunk, arms crossed, posture relaxed but eyes alert. "Take your time. We need to be sharp for whatever comes next."
A minute passed. Maybe two. The forest sounds were almost soothing—so different from the oppressive silence of the previous zones. Javi could hear actual wildlife: birds calling, insects buzzing, small animals rustling through undergrowth. Normal sounds.
It was almost unsettling how normal it felt.
Finally, Rukawa broke the silence. His voice was gentle but firm: "Enough resting."
Javi stood up with a theatrical grunt, brushing grass and dirt from his pants. "Alright, alright, let's see what this place has to offer. Welcome to part three of the Annoyingly Supernatural Forest Tour. Please keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times."
Rukawa blinked, puzzled. "Part three? Where did you get that designation?"
Javi shrugged, falling into step beside him as they started walking. "Well, the first one had the climbing wolf that defied physics. The second one had the looping trees and compass magic. So logically—using my newly developed detective brain—this is part three. It's called pattern recognition."
Rukawa considered that—then gave a rare, quiet chuckle that transformed his usually serious face. "...You're starting to think like a detective. Richard would be proud. Gwen might actually compliment you."
Javi grinned, puffing his chest slightly with exaggerated pride. "Damn right I am. Next thing you know, I'll be predicting murder cases before they happen. Solving crimes across the globe from my armchair."
Rukawa shot him a dry look. "Don't push your luck. And don't jinx us."
"Oh no, I'm not," Javi said quickly, making a superstitious gesture. "Let's just go, shall we? Before I accidentally curse us with my big mouth."
Rukawa nodded, his gaze already focused forward with that laser-like intensity. They moved quietly through the new landscape, both listening intently for anything that might suggest more supernatural surprises lurking in the seemingly normal forest. But the woods remained peacefully, almost suspiciously quiet.
Javi glanced around nervously, his unease growing with each peaceful step. "...It's too quiet. Like, too quiet. Even for a normal forest."
Rukawa's response was simple: "Just focus. Stay alert."
Javi swallowed hard and tried to follow his advice—to ignore the ominous quality of the silence that seemed to press in around them despite the ambient forest sounds. He focused on moving forward methodically, putting one foot in front of the other, scanning their environment for threats. But the weight of expectation, the certainty that something had to happen, just grew heavier with every uneventful step.
No birds flew overhead despite the calls. No squirrels darted across their path. The leaves rustled but he never saw what caused the movement. It felt like the forest was holding its breath. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting for them to do something.
Javi tried to ease the tension building in his chest. "But at least I think we're in a normal forest now. Real trees. Real air. Real sunlight. That's progress, right?"
Rukawa paused, tilting his head slightly as he scanned the surroundings once more with systematic precision. Then he nodded cautiously. "For now, at least. But stay ready."
Javi rubbed the back of his neck, trying to relax tense muscles. "Let's hope it stays that way, because I swear—if I see one more thing climbing a tree that shouldn't be able to climb trees—"
As Javi looked up at the surrounding trees—normal oaks and maples and pines—he felt a sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion. Bittersweet. Nostalgic. Achingly familiar in a way he couldn't immediately explain.
"Huh?" The sound escaped him involuntarily, confusion and recognition mixing.
Javi paused mid-step, frowning deeply. That feeling was so strong—visceral, almost painful—but he couldn't quite place it. Like a word on the tip of his tongue, a name he should remember but couldn't. He looked back at the trees, really studying them now, trying to find the source of this overwhelming sense of déjà vu.
"...Do you feel that?" His voice was quieter than normal, uncertain.
Rukawa tilted his head, genuinely curious. "Feel what?"
Javi hesitated, struggling to articulate something he didn't fully understand himself. "...Like a memory that's just on the edge of your mind. Not quite there, but so close you can almost touch it. Like your brain is screaming that you should know this, but the information won't come."
Rukawa glanced at him with sharp interest, then studied the trees with renewed attention. "What are you trying to say? That you've been here before?"
Javi frowned, his fingers unconsciously reaching out to brush the bark of a nearby tree—then freezing completely when his hand made contact.
The texture. The rough pattern. The feel of it.
He knew this tree.
"No... not 'here' exactly. But this feeling..." He looked down at the compass still clutched in his other hand—still warm, needle steady but pulsing faintly like a heartbeat, like it was alive and responding to his emotional state. "...It's like when I was little. Before the academy. Before the training. Before my fam—"
He stopped abruptly, throat tightening.
Rukawa stepped closer, his voice dropping to something gentle. "Then maybe that's why you're here. Not just for the test. Maybe this whole thing was designed specifically for you."
"What do you mean?" Javi asked quietly, though part of him already understood.
"Maybe it's not just about surviving the forest," Rukawa said carefully. "Maybe it's about remembering. Confronting what you've forgotten. Or what you've tried to forget."
Javi blinked, his mind racing. "If that's the case..."
Before Rukawa could respond or stop him, Javi quickly sprang toward the tree—the one that felt right, that called to something deep in his bones—and started climbing. His hands found holds instinctively, muscle memory taking over, his body remembering what his conscious mind had forgotten.
Rukawa's eyes widened with genuine alarm. "Wait—what are you doing?!"
But Javi was already scrambling up the trunk, driven by instinct more powerful than logic, his hands finding familiar grooves in the bark like this was choreographed, like his body had climbed this specific tree a hundred times before.
"I don't know!" Javi called down, breathless, voice strained with emotion he couldn't name. "But this tree—I've climbed it before! I know I have! I know this tree!"
Rukawa watched him ascend, muscles tense and ready to react if something attacked from below or above. The forest still held its breath, waiting. But nothing emerged from the shadows. No supernatural threat revealed itself.
This was something else entirely.
Javi climbed higher, following instincts he didn't understand, until he reached a familiar split in the branches—a natural seat formed by two thick limbs diverging. And there, carved into the wood where time and weather had nearly erased it, worn but still visible if you knew to look...
Three initials.
"SJS"
His breath caught. His throat tightened painfully. His vision blurred with sudden tears he didn't fully understand.
The letters were small, carved with a child's unpracticed hand. How many years ago? Eight? Ten? The edges had softened, bark growing over portions of the carving, but it was unmistakably there.
Unmistakably real.
"...No way." His whisper was barely audible, choked with emotion—regret, pain, longing, loss, all crashing over him at once.
Rukawa called up from below, his voice steady but laced with something deeper—concern, maybe recognition, possibly understanding. "Garcia. What is it? What did you find?"
Javi didn't answer immediately. He couldn't. He traced the faded letters with trembling fingers, his breath coming in shaky gasps as memories he'd buried—deliberately forgotten, forcibly suppressed—began to surface like bodies rising from deep water.
"I came here before," he finally said, voice thick. "As a kid. With my best friends. We used to play in this forest. For years. This was our place. Our secret spot."
He pressed his palm flat against the carving, as if he could reach back through time and touch the child he'd been, touch the friends who'd carved their initials alongside his.
"This indentation... it proves that I'm here. Again. That this isn't random. That I—" His voice cracked. "—that I'm exactly where I need to be."
Rukawa's voice carried up through the branches, quiet and careful: "Then where are we, Garcia?"
Javi took a shuddering breath, his entire worldview shifting, pieces of his fractured past clicking into place with painful clarity. He stared at the letters—SJS—and remembered exactly whose initials those were, whose laugh echoed through these woods, whose friendship had defined his childhood before everything fell apart.
His answer was barely a whisper, but in the stillness of the waiting forest, it carried perfectly:
"Beacon Hills Preserve."
_
TO BE CONTINUED..