The air was different now.
Heavier. Thicker.
It clung to Emily's lungs like smoke as she walked the glowing path through the woods. The light beneath her feet pulsed faintly—white, then red, then white again—like the beat of a dying heart. She followed it without hesitation, clutching the wooden whistle Lila had given her.
Each step carried her deeper into the forest's oldest layer, where trees grew too close together for light to pass through. The silence here was suffocating. No rustle of wind. No distant hoot of an owl. Only her own heartbeat and the faint whisper of something listening.
She stopped.
"Come out," she said softly. "I know you're there."
The forest answered with a long sigh.
Roots shifted underfoot, and from the shadows, figures began to emerge—familiar shapes, faces she could never forget. Ava. Marcus. Leah.
They stood in a half-circle around her, eyes vacant and pale, their bodies still as stone.
Emily's voice caught. "No… no, you're not real."
Ava blinked once. "We never left, Emily."
Marcus smiled faintly, but his expression was wrong—too still, too calm. "You brought us back here. You called us home."
Emily stepped backward, her chest tightening. "I didn't. I came to free you."
Leah tilted her head, clutching her tattered bunny to her chest. "Then why did you count again?"
Emily's blood ran cold.
She hadn't counted. She hadn't said a word.
But as she thought it, the forest whispered the numbers for her.
One… two… three…
Her throat closed. She dropped to her knees, covering her ears, but the whispers came from inside her mind now—low, melodic, endless.
She gasped, choking on air.
And then another voice joined them—smooth, ancient, and impossibly deep.
"You return to bargain," it said.
The forest parted like a curtain.
The Keeper stepped through.
No longer shrouded in full darkness, the figure's true form emerged beneath the moonlight—Lila's outline, but larger now, her face cracked with glowing veins of red light, her hair made of woven branches. Her eyes were empty sockets that flickered with faint white fire.
Emily stumbled backward. "Lila?"
Lila's voice was layered now—hers, and something else beneath it. "Lila was the last name I wore. The forest has many. It keeps what it touches."
The whistle in Emily's hand began to vibrate violently.
"I came to make a trade," Emily said, forcing her voice steady. "Take me. Let them go."
The forest fell silent.
Then the laughter came—low, rippling, cruel.
"You think your soul outweighs three?" the Keeper asked. "You think the game bargains in mercy?"
Emily lifted her chin. "You told me the forest feeds on seekers. Then feed on me. End it with me."
The air pulsed once—like the forest was considering it.
"You misunderstand," the Keeper whispered. "The forest doesn't feed on you. It becomes you."
The light from the roots flared red.
All around them, faces began to bloom in the bark of nearby trees—faces of the lost. Their mouths opened in unison, and a low hum filled the air.
The Keeper extended her hand. "You want to save them? Then take their place. Stay. Count forever."
Emily clenched her fists. "If I do that, will it let them live?"
"They will wake," the Keeper said. "In your world. Unharmed. Unaware."
It was everything she wanted. Everything she'd fought for.
But something in the Keeper's voice was wrong—too careful, too smooth.
Emily narrowed her eyes. "And what's the cost?"
The Keeper smiled. "You will vanish. You will never have been. The world will forget your name, your face, your story. You will be only the forest's whisper."
Emily felt her stomach twist.
To save them… she'd have to erase herself.
The forest waited.
Behind the Keeper, Ava, Marcus, and Leah stood still, watching with empty eyes. Their mouths moved faintly. Emily could barely hear the words, but she recognized them.
"Don't do it."
Her heart shattered.
The Keeper tilted her head. "Even now, they beg you not to love them enough. Humanity's weakness—your hope. That's why you all lose."
Emily raised the whistle to her lips.
The Keeper's eyes burned white-hot. "What are you doing?"
"This whistle belonged to the first Seeker," Emily said, her voice trembling. "And you told me it shows the path."
"Yes," the Keeper hissed. "To us."
Emily smiled faintly. "No. To the way out."
And she blew.
The sound wasn't music.
It was a scream of air and memory, piercing and endless. The trees shuddered. The roots coiled in agony. Light tore through the forest canopy, flooding the clearing with blinding brilliance.
The Keeper screamed—a thousand voices shrieking at once. Her form splintered, red veins cracking open as white light bled through them.
Emily stumbled forward, reaching for her friends.
"Ava! Marcus! Leah! Come on!"
They blinked, eyes clearing for the first time. Ava gasped. Marcus dropped to his knees, clutching his head. Leah sobbed quietly, her bunny falling to the dirt.
"Emily?" Ava croaked. "What's happening?"
The ground beneath them began to split.
The forest itself was coming apart.
"You broke the pact!" the Keeper shrieked. Her form convulsed, roots tearing from her limbs, light pouring from her eyes. "You cannot take them! They belong to me!"
"No," Emily said, gripping Ava's arm. "They belong to themselves."
The Keeper lunged.
Emily threw herself between the creature and her friends, raising the whistle again.
It burned white-hot in her hand.
"Emily, don't!" Marcus shouted.
But she blew one last time.
The sound tore through the world.
The trees howled. The ground shook. Everything twisted and turned inside out—and then, silence.
Emily opened her eyes to sunlight.
She was lying in the field outside the forest, grass cool beneath her skin. Ava, Marcus, and Leah were beside her, breathing, alive.
The forest was quiet.
No whispers. No movement.
Only peace.
Ava sat up first, blinking. "We're back?"
Marcus groaned, rubbing his head. "How—how did we get here?"
Leah blinked at Emily. "Where's the whistle?"
Emily looked down at her empty hands.
Gone.
Her heart ached. The weight of what she'd done settled like ash in her chest. She stood slowly, staring into the forest.
It looked ordinary now.
Small.
Almost human.
"Emily?" Ava's voice was soft. "Are you okay?"
Emily turned to them and smiled faintly. "You're safe. That's what matters."
Marcus frowned. "But—what about you?"
She didn't answer.
A wind brushed through the field, carrying with it the faintest sound—like a child's voice, far away, counting.
One… two… three…
Emily's smile faltered. She touched her palm. The old spiral mark had returned, faintly glowing beneath her skin.
"I'll be fine," she whispered. "Go home."
They hesitated, but something in her tone silenced them.
Slowly, they left—walking toward the road that led back to town.
When Emily was alone, she turned once more to the forest.
The wind stirred. The trees seemed to bow.
And from deep within, she heard Lila's voice, soft as the earth:
"You've done what no Seeker has ever done… You bargained and lived."
Emily exhaled. "For now."
The forest whispered back:
Then the next round begins with you.