Warning: This episode contains traumatizing scenes. If you're sensitive to graphic or disturbing content, you may want to skip this chapter.
Mia was paralyzed. Her feet refused to move as she stared at the figure in front of the cabin. The world around her seemed to blur, the edges of reality turning soft as if she were drifting in a dream. Lela's face or what was left of it twisted and contorted, floating just inches above the ground, her hollow eyes locked onto Mia's. The voice called out again, faint, yet bone-chilling.
"Mia... You're not supposed to forget…"
But then, as though a switch had been flipped, a voice broke through the silence.
"Mia!"
She blinked, her feet suddenly moving as if under a spell. Her friend, Sarah, was running toward her, waving her hand. The warmth of reality snapped her back.
"What are you doing out here? The teacher's called everyone to assemble," Sarah said, her face furrowed in concern. "Come on, we need to go."
Mia barely heard her at first, still caught in the trance of what she had just witnessed. The cabin. Lela. It was calling.
As Mia turned away, her heart pounded in her chest. Her feet carried her back toward the group, but with every step, she felt the weight of the woods behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see the pale figure following, but nothing was there. The clearing seemed normal again, too normal.
It felt like a dream-a hazy, fading nightmare. The trees, the mist, the cabin. Were they even real?
But Mia didn't know what was happening behind her, not yet. She couldn't see the slow creep of darkness behind her classmates, or the pull it had on one of them.
That night, after everyone had returned to the guest lodge, the darkness seemed to settle heavier over the village. The fog rolled in thicker, blanketing the land in a suffocating silence.
And then there was Mark.
Mark had always been the curious one, the one who dared to venture where others wouldn't. While the rest of the class settled in for a restless sleep, Mark couldn't shake the feeling that something had been calling him too. The air felt thick with something sinister, like the trees themselves were watching him. His thoughts kept returning to the cabin the way it stood in the distance, seemingly beckoning him to come closer.
He stood at the window, staring out into the mist-choked night. It was as though the cabin was alive, its presence radiating something dark and irresistible.
Without thinking, Mark grabbed his flashlight and snuck out of the lodge. He stepped out into the night, the cool air prickling his skin as he made his way toward the woods.
The fog seemed to part for him, the path ahead twisting into an impossible labyrinth of darkness. The further he walked, the more he felt the pull of the cabin, like a hand reaching out to drag him into its cold embrace.
When the cabin finally came into view, it was even more terrifying than he'd imagined. The crooked structure seemed to stretch unnaturally, its windows glowing with a faint, unholy light. The door swung wide open, and Mark didn't even hesitate. He stepped closer, as though something inside was forcing him forward.
The moment his foot crossed the threshold, a low hum filled the air, vibrating through his chest. The door slammed shut behind him, trapping him inside. He spun around, but there was no escape. The air was thick with dust and decay, and shadows twisted unnaturally, creeping across the walls like living things.
Mark's breath quickened. He backed away slowly, eyes darting around the room. There was something wrong about the space like it wasn't meant to be. The very essence of the place felt out of place, as if it had been stolen from another world.
And then, the whispers started.
Soft at first, like a distant voice on the wind. But they grew louder, and soon the whispers became words, voices, hundreds of them, all speaking at once.
"We've been waiting for you."
He spun around, but there was no one there. Just shadows, crawling across the walls.
His flashlight flickered. The shadows were moving. Growing.
And then he saw it-a figure, standing in the corner of the room. It was just a silhouette at first, but as the light caught it, Mark's blood ran cold.
The figure was Lela. But she was no longer the girl he remembered.
Her skin was stretched thin, almost translucent, revealing the twisted shapes beneath. Her mouth hung open in a grotesque, soundless scream, and her eyes were black pits that seemed to suck in the very light around them.
Mark stumbled backward, his heart pounding in his chest.
"No... this isn't real. This can't be happening," he whispered to himself, but the words were hollow. He was trapped in the nightmare now.
The shadows closed in on him.
From every corner of the cabin, figures began to emerge some human, others not. The faces were contorted, their eyes hollow. They reached out to him, their fingers like cold tendrils, grabbing at his legs, his arms.
Mark tried to scream, but the air was thick and suffocating, and his voice was swallowed by the darkness. He struggled against the pull, but the figures around him dragged him deeper into the cabin. He tried to fight back, but it was useless. The shadows had him, and they were pulling him into the walls.
The last thing Mark saw before the darkness consumed him was Lela's face, twisted into a grin that didn't belong to a living person.
"You should have never come back," she whispered, as the shadows claimed him.
And then, there was silence.