The town of Westbridge barely noticed the forest's shift.
Birds sang louder that morning. Sunlight reached corners that had long stayed in shadow. The chill that lingered near the trees had lifted, as if the woods themselves exhaled for the first time in decades.
But the children who had returned—Emily, Ava, Marcus, and Sarah—carried the forest's weight in their bones.
Especially Emily.
The figurine never left her hand.
She hadn't spoken much since Devon vanished. His sacrifice still hung in the silence between them all like a thick fog—his laughter, his warmth, and the way he'd always made the best of bad situations. Gone. All of it swallowed by the game so the others could live.
The town welcomed them back with cautious relief. The search parties had long stopped, but when the missing children returned on foot—disheveled, bruised, and tired—people wept. Parents embraced them. The local sheriff asked questions, and doctors examined them.
None of them told the full truth.
"We got lost," Ava said calmly to the investigators. "We panicked. Stayed in the woods, tried to find a way out. Devon… didn't make it."
It was close enough to the truth. Just not the part anyone would believe.
No one would believe that the forest had teeth.
No one would believe that a game had claimed them.
And no one would believe that it might happen again.
Back at home, Emily sat in her bedroom staring at the figurine.
She'd cleaned it, dried it, even tried putting it away once.
But no matter where she hid it—drawer, closet, even under her bed—it always found its way back onto her desk, upright and centered. As if it belonged there.
Like it was watching.
She remembered what Devon said before he disappeared.
"Someone has to stay."
She closed her eyes and heard his voice sometimes. Not haunting her, not exactly. More like… echoing through the trees in her dreams. Calling.
She hadn't told the others about the dreams.
In them, she stood at the edge of the forest again. But this time, the trees bowed away from her, and a path opened in the brush. A clear, beckoning trail. And at the end of it: Devon.
Smiling. Whole. Waiting.
She always woke up before she could reach him.
Two weeks passed.
The four of them stayed in touch—clinging to each other like survivors of a shipwreck.
Marcus started keeping a journal, writing everything he could remember. He said it helped him process.
Sarah wouldn't go near the woods anymore. She even got her parents to move to another part of town.
Ava became obsessed with the book they'd found in the forest—The Hollow Watchers. She scanned the pages, cross-referencing them with local legends, myths, anything remotely connected to the forest.
Emily? She waited.
Waited for the other shoe to drop.
And it did.
It began on a quiet Tuesday evening.
She was brushing her teeth when she noticed the bathroom mirror had fogged—except she hadn't used hot water.
Frowning, she wiped the glass clean.
In the reflection behind her, standing in the hallway, was a little boy.
She spun around.
No one there.
Her heart thundered.
She turned back to the mirror—nothing now.
But the air had turned cold. The kind of cold that wrapped around her lungs and made it hard to breathe.
She grabbed the figurine from her nightstand and clutched it tightly, whispering Devon's name like a prayer.
The chill faded.
But the fear stayed.
The next morning, she called Ava.
"Something's wrong," Emily said.
Ava didn't hesitate. "I'm coming over."
When she arrived, the figurine was already on the kitchen table between them.
"I think it's still connected," Emily whispered. "The forest. Devon. Everything."
Ava stared at the figurine. "It shouldn't be. The Lockbox opened. Devon sealed the game."
"But maybe it wasn't just the game," Emily said. "Maybe the forest doesn't care about rules."
She told Ava about the little boy. About the dreams. About the cold.
"I think Devon's trying to reach me."
Ava was quiet for a long time. "Or something is pretending to be him."
That possibility sat heavy in Emily's chest.
That night, they returned to the forest.
Not deep—just the edge. Just far enough to test the air.
The trees stood silent, unmoving. The breeze was gentle. The stars overhead flickered peacefully.
"I don't feel it," Ava said. "The presence. The energy. It's dormant."
Emily shook her head. "No. It's watching. Waiting."
A rustle behind them.
They turned.
Marcus stepped from the shadows, holding his journal.
"I couldn't sleep," he muttered. "You feel it too, don't you?"
Emily nodded. "It's not over."
"Then we need answers," Ava said. "Real ones. No more half-truths. We face it now, before it wakes again."
Emily looked back at the trees. "How?"
Ava opened The Hollow Watchers to a bookmarked page.
"There's a ritual," she said. "Not to open the game. To enter it willingly. To speak with whoever's inside. But we have to be quick. It's risky."
Marcus frowned. "What if it's a trap?"
"It probably is," Ava said. "But if Devon's still in there, trapped between whatever the forest turned him into and what he used to be… we owe him."
Emily met her eyes. "Then let's do it."
They performed the ritual at the forest's edge, under the full moon.
Salt in a perfect circle. Figurine in the center. A drop of blood from each of them on the roots of the nearest tree.
Ava read the incantation in a firm, unwavering voice. Her words grew strange, curling in the air like smoke.
The world around them slowed.
Emily blinked, and the trees were gone.
They stood in a dark clearing lit by silver fog. Shadows curled along the ground like spilled ink.
And in the center, tied to a tree by branches that resembled arms, was Devon.
His eyes opened.
"Emily," he breathed.
She ran to him, reaching out—but the air around him shimmered like a barrier.
"Devon," she cried. "We're here. We came back."
He looked older now. Worn. But still him.
"You shouldn't have," he said.
A shape moved behind him—something massive, formless, with dozens of eyes that blinked independently.
"You brought it with you," he whispered.
The figure loomed, shifting like a cloud of smoke. Whispers flooded the air, incoherent and relentless.
The forest had followed them into the ritual.
"It's always hungry," Devon said. "Even if I bind it. It finds cracks. It finds ways."
Emily turned to Ava. "Get us out. Now!"
Ava opened the book—but the pages flipped wildly, uncontrollably.
"Something's wrong," she hissed.
Marcus dropped to his knees, clutching his head. "It's in here—it's screaming!"
Emily pressed her palm to the barrier.
"Devon—how do we stop it?"
His eyes—so full of pain—locked with hers.
"You can't."
The shadow lashed out.
The ritual circle shattered.
Emily screamed.
She woke up on the forest floor, gasping for air.
Ava and Marcus beside her, pale and stunned but alive.
The figurine was gone.
So was The Hollow Watchers.
Emily rose slowly.
She knew what it meant.
The forest hadn't ended the game.
It had changed the rules.
And the game had just begun again.