The air tasted like ozone and pine when Lila found the first body. She’d been following the trail for hours, her boots crunching through brittle leaves as the sun dipped low over the jagged peaks. The forest had always felt alive here, but today it hummed with a tension that made her pulse thrum in her ears. She paused at the edge of a clearing, her breath fogging in the chill. The corpse lay half-buried in the mud, its face frozen in a rictus of terror. A boy, no older than sixteen, his skin mottled with blue veins that pulsed like trapped lightning. Lila’s hand went to the knife at her belt, but she didn’t move. Something about the way the shadows clung to the body made her stomach twist. She turned back toward the trail, but the trees had shifted. The path she’d taken hours ago was gone, swallowed by a labyrinth of trunks and brambles. A gust of wind carried a whisper—not words, but a vibration in her bones. She ran.
The cabin appeared at dusk, its wooden planks bleached white by years of sun and rain. Lila pushed the door open with a creak that echoed in the stillness. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of mildew and old paper. A single lamp flickered on the wall, casting jagged shadows across the room. On the table sat a journal, its leather cover cracked and stained. She opened it to a page marked with a red X. The handwriting was jagged, desperate: *They’re coming for the light. The trees remember.* A crash from outside made her freeze. Footsteps. Not human. She grabbed the journal and slipped into the shadows as the door burst open.
The boy from the clearing stood in the doorway, his face pale under the flickering light. His eyes were black, but they shifted, like oil on water. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice a rasp. Lila’s hand tightened around the journal. “Who are you?” she demanded. The boy tilted his head, as if listening to something only he could hear. “I’m the last one who remembers,” he said. “Before the light dies, you have to see what they took.” He extended a hand, and for a moment, Lila saw it—images flashing in her mind, a city swallowed by darkness, people screaming as their skin turned to ash. She pulled back. “What are you?” The boy’s smile was sharp. “A ghost with a job.”
They didn’t speak as they walked through the forest, the boy leading her deeper into the maze of trees. Lila’s mind raced. The journal’s entries spoke of a ritual, a way to bind the light to the earth. But something had gone wrong. The trees were alive, their roots writhing like serpents. She could feel them watching, waiting. “Why me?” she asked finally. The boy stopped, turning to face her. “Because you’re the only one who can see it,” he said. “The light’s fading, and you’re the last spark.” A branch snapped behind them. The boy grabbed her wrist, his grip cold. “We have to move.”
They reached a clearing where the trees parted like a curtain. At the center stood a stone altar, its surface etched with symbols that glowed faintly. Lila’s breath caught. The journal’s pages had described this place—a sanctuary, a last stand against the darkness. But something was wrong. The symbols were fading, their light dimming. The boy knelt, pressing his palm to the stone. “It’s breaking,” he muttered. Lila stepped forward, her heart pounding. “What happens if it dies?” The boy’s eyes met hers, and for the first time, she saw fear in them. “The world ends,” he said. “And we all become ghosts.”
A roar split the air, shaking the ground. From the shadows emerged a creature made of smoke and broken glass, its form shifting between shapes—a man, a beast, a storm. Lila’s mind screamed at her to run, but her feet were rooted in place. The boy stood, his stance rigid. “Go,” he ordered. “Find the light.” Lila shook her head. “I’m not leaving you.” He smiled, bitter. “You don’t get a choice.” With a flick of his wrist, he slammed his hand into the altar. The symbols flared, and the creature let out a shriek that tore through the air. Lila stumbled back as the ground cracked open, revealing a spiral of light beneath the stone. The boy’s body began to dissolve, his form scattering into motes of gold. “Remember,” he whispered, his voice fading. “The light’s not gone. It’s waiting.”
Lila plunged into the light, the world dissolving around her. When she opened her eyes, she was back at the cabin, the journal lying open on the table. The pages were blank. A knock at the door. She hesitated, then walked to it. Outside stood a boy—same face, same eyes—smiling. “Ready?” he asked. Lila took a shaky breath. “Where do we start?” The boy extended his hand. “Where the light died.”
The forest stretched before them, vast and unbroken. Somewhere in the distance, a bird called. Lila looked down at her hands, still tingling with the afterimage of the light. The journey wasn’t over. It had only just begun.
