Five minutes in, and to be honest? I’m both relieved and on edge.

  We move in formation—spread in a horizontal line, keeping each other in sight. One eye on the ground, one on the trees. Searching. Watching.

  Nothing.

  No footprints. No signs of Josh. No tracks, not even from an animal. The ground is undisturbed, like nothing lives here.

  And yet, the forest itself doesn’t feel dead.

  The trees stand tall, spaced just enough to give us a clear line of sight. Sunlight filters through the canopy in golden shafts, dappling the earth in warm, shifting patterns. A light breeze drifts between the trunks, carrying the crisp scent of leaves and damp soil. Birds chirp overhead, hidden in the branches.

  For a moment—a split second—it feels normal. Almost welcoming.

  I don’t like it.

  It’s too easy. Too inviting. Like the forest wants us to go deeper.

  And without a weapon in hand, it starts to feel like suicide.

  I need a weapon—gun, sword, spear—anything.

  I look around. There…fallen branches. They look thick and sturdy. Can work as spears.

  I grab one, testing its weight. Feels solid.

  I waste no time breaking it down. It takes effort—snapping off the excess, sharpening one end against a rough tree trunk. It works, but not as fast as I’d like.

  Nearby, a cluster of jagged stones catches my eye. I grab one, test its edge. Sharp enough.

  With some effort, I chip and grind the wood into a crude point. Not bad.

  Then, I spot a better rock. An idea clicks.

  Vines hang nearby, thick but flexible. I tie the stone to my spear’s tip. Takes a few tries, but soon enough—voilà. A makeshift spear with an actual stone tip. Caveman tech, but better than nothing.

  Russel watches, then nods approvingly. He picks up a branch of his own.

  Soon, the others follow suit. They do alright—until the tying part. Turns out, securing a rock to a stick isn’t as easy as it looks.

  Russel and I go around, tightening their bindings. Guy has good hands. Strong grip. Probably works with tools a lot.

  Weapons ready, we move. Deeper. Step by step.

  Every few feet, I carve a mark into the bark. The others follow. Slower, but safer. At least, that’s the hope.

  Eyes sharp. Ears sharper. Every shadow, every twisted root, every shifting leaf—a potential threat.

  Minutes blur.

  Ten. Twenty. Forty.

  Still nothing.

  No monsters. No signs of Josh. Just trees. Damp earth. The occasional fallen branch.

  By the hour mark, Becky frowns, glancing around. Uneasy.

  “Shouldn’t we have seen something by now?”

  No one answers.

  Because—really—she has a point.

  For a jungle in some fantasy death world, it should be crawling with monsters. We should’ve been fighting, running, bleeding by now. But instead? Silence. Emptiness.

  Maybe it’s a good sign. Maybe Josh is still alive. Maybe he’s hiding somewhere, waiting for us.

  But also—he can’t have run this far. Not a kid. Not alone.

  And if he did—where are his tracks?

  Hell, where’s anything?

  Johnny rolls his shoulders, casual as ever. “That means we need to go deeper.”

  Annoyingly, he has a point.

  I grip my spear tighter. A weapon that feels useless in a place with nothing to stab.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Stay sharp,” I mutter. And we walk on.

  Twenty more minutes slip by.

  And something shifts.

  Not in the forest. In us.

  The tension? It should still be there. The absence of life? It should still be unsettling. But somehow, it’s not.

  Russel, who had checked behind every few minutes like clockwork, hasn’t looked back in a while. Becky’s grip loosens on her weapon, fingers slack around the crude handle. Even Violet—who had been the most cautious—lets out a small sigh, gaze drifting, like she’s getting… bored.

  It gnaws at me.

  This place isn’t safe. I know that. I feel that.

  And yet—

  My own grip on the spear has eased. My steps aren’t as careful.

  I force myself to focus. To listen. But my own senses feel… muffled. Not dulled exactly, but like I’ve forgotten why I should be on edge. Like something heavy is pressing down on the back of my thoughts, smoothing the edges of my unease.

  The forest isn’t safe. It isn’t.

  So why do I have to keep reminding myself?

  My next step lands heavier than I expect, like I’ve misjudged the ground beneath me. I blink.

  How long have we been walking?

  I glance at Russel. He’s staring ahead, eyes distant. Becky rubs her temple like she has a headache. I turn to Violet, and—

  She’s farther away than she was a second ago. Not much. Just a step. A breath. But I didn’t see her move.

  Did she move?

  Becky stops short, squinting ahead. “There. That’s a footprint.”

  I rush over. And sure enough—a partial print in the dirt. Small enough to be a kid’s.

  A breath of relief escapes me. But then I frown.

  The print isn’t fresh. The edges are too smooth, too settled into the earth. Like it’s been here for hours. Maybe longer.

  Then I see another. And another. Identical. Perfectly identical.

  The exact same footprint, stamped over and over.

  I swallow. Hard.

  Fuck!

  My breath is hitched. What is… going on here?

  A branch snaps behind me.

  I whirl, spear raised.

  Nothing. Just trees.

  Then—another snap. This time ahead.

  “Okay,” Russel mutters. “That one wasn’t just me, right?”

  I open my mouth to respond—

  And a voice speaks from the trees.

  Too close. Too calm. Right in my ears.

  “You will die here.”

  A shiver runs down my spine. I tense up.

  I stab the air in front. The spear goes through… nothing.

  There is nothing there.

  Then… what did I hear?

  I snap to Dave, the guy with curly blonde hair. “You heard that?”

  He frowns. “Heard what?” His voice is too normal. Too casual.

  I glance at Becky. She just shakes her head.

  No. No, they had to have heard it.

  My pulse kicks up. My skin is clammy. I press my palm against my chest, grounding myself, but my heart’s hammering too fast.

  I turn in a slow circle, scanning the trees.

  Something feels wrong. Not just eerie—wrong.

  The air is thick. Too thick. It presses in, like the whole damn forest is breathing around us. The ground feels… softer. Like the dirt isn’t quite solid under my feet anymore.

  I blink.

  The trees seem taller. The shadows deeper.

  And then—

  For a second—

  For just a second—

  I see a face.

  Not in front of me. Not behind a tree. In the tree. The bark twists, the knots of wood curling into something almost human. A hollow where an eye should be. A stretch of darkness forming the curve of a mouth.

  It’s not there. And then it is.

  It’s looking at me.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, hard. My breath is ragged, chest rising and falling too fast.

  Open them again.

  The face is gone.

  The forest is normal. Normal.

  But I don’t believe it.

  I take a slow step back. My foot lands wrong, sending me off-balance for just a second.

  When I look up—

  Everyone is staring at me.

  “Nate,” Violet says slowly. Carefully. Like I’m a bomb about to go off.

  “What?” My voice is rough. Unsteady.

  “You just…” She hesitates. “You were talking to yourself.”

  No. No, I wasn’t.

  Was I?

  I shake my head. I heard something. I saw—

  My gaze flicks to the trees again. To where that face was.

  Nothing. Just bark and branches.

  I force myself to breathe. Deep. Slow.

  Something is messing with me. With us.

  And if we don’t get out soon—

  I don’t think we’re going to make it.

  “Guys, look!” Johnny shouts, voice cracking. “It’s the bunny!”

  Bunny? What bunny?

  The others react instantly—Russel stiffens, Becky and Violet gasp, nearly tripping over themselves to rush forward.

  I turn my head.

  Nestled between the roots of an old tree—

  A rabbit. White. Fluffy. Tiny paws pressed into the dirt. Its ears twitch. Its nose wiggles.

  It blinks up at me with glossy red eyes.

  Cute. Innocent.

  But something feels off.

  Russel kneels, reaching for it. Becky circles, leering. Johnny and Dave clutch each other, grinning. And Violet—she hesitates. Tension in her frame.

  The rabbit doesn’t move.

  I squint. Look closer.

  Its eyes shift.

  Not normal movement. No. The red pools inside its sockets tilt, liquid sliding until—

  They settle on me.

  My breath catches. The air grows heavy.

  The thing tilts its head. And then—

  It grins.

  Not a twitch. Not a quirk. A full, stretching grin.

  The fur distorts. Lips pull back too far.

  Teeth. Sharp. Crooked. Wrong.

  The breath in my lungs turns cold.

  Russel chuckles, ruffling its ears. “Cute little guy, huh?”

  They don’t see it.

  The rabbit’s mouth widens. The space around it warps.

  Then—

  “Look at me.”

  A whisper, yet it slides into my skull.

  The red eyes glow.

  “LOOK AT ME.”

  The voice thunders, rattling inside me. The world tilts. My limbs sink. My mind bends, twisting around something that isn’t me.

  I can’t look away. No. No, no, no—

  “I AM THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BUNNY NOW!”

  I grit my teeth. Dig my nails into my palm. Focus.

  Move. MOVE.

  With everything I have, I rip my gaze away.

  Air slams into my lungs. The weight lifts.

  My spear—where’s my—

  There. Half-buried in dirt.

  I snatch it up.

  The rabbit grins.

  I hurl the spear.

  A sickening thunk.

  The rabbit jerks. Its red eyes dim.

  Silence.

  Becky stumbles back, blinking. Russel shakes his head. Johnny and Dave release each other. Violet exhales sharply.

  They don’t remember.

  I stare at the motionless body, my spear buried in its small frame.

  The air is lighter.

  The weight is gone.

  But my hands... they won’t stop shaking.

  Then—

  [Bunny Enchantress Slain]

  [Monsters Killed: 1 / Remaining: 4]