Mia hadn't set foot in the village since Lela vanished.
The bus rumbled through the narrow forest road, tires cracking over fallen twigs and gravel. The trees were taller than she remembered, like they had grown in her absence—twisting toward the sky like gnarled hands trying to blot out the sun.
She sat near the back of the bus, sketchbook in her lap, pretending to sleep. But her mind wandered—back to that strange day. To Lela's voice.
"Can you see them?"
The words still clung to her like smoke.
"Yo, Mia," called Jay, her seatmate and one of the louder boys in class. "You okay? You look like you saw a ghost."
She gave him a small smile. "Just tired."
But the truth was, she hadn't slept well in weeks. Since the trip was announced, the dreams had started. Not dreams—memories twisted wrong. In them, she stood in front of the cabin again, but the sky was always red, and Lela's face was missing—just a blur of skin and teeth. Behind the cabin, something pulsed. Watched.
When they arrived, the village looked emptier than she'd expected. Fewer houses. Fewer people. As if parts of it had quietly vanished over the years.
Their teacher led them to an open clearing for their first sketching session. But as the class unpacked supplies and spread across the field, Mia felt it again.
A weight.
A pull.
It was coming from the woods.
From there.
Her eyes followed the tree line until they locked on something behind the thicket.
The cabin.
It stood crookedly in the distance, swallowed by vines and shadow, as if the forest had tried to erase it but failed.
She hadn't told anyone about it. Not even her teachers. It wasn't on any map. No one else seemed to notice.
But she felt it.
And worse... it felt her.
That night, back at the old guest lodge where the students were staying, something scratched at her window. Once. Then twice.
When she worked up the courage to look, nothing was there.
Only the reflection of her face.
But in the glass, behind her reflection, was something else—something watching. From the trees. Its shape was wrong. Blurred. Like it didn't belong in this world.
The next day, during the second sketching session, Mia wandered farther than she should have. Past the clearing. Past the overgrowth.
Drawn.
She didn't realize she had crossed the invisible threshold until the air turned colder, heavier. The trees around her leaned in like eavesdropping giants.
Then she saw it again. The cabin.
Closer this time.
The wood was more rotten than she remembered. Windows dark and cracked. The door slightly ajar. And... a voice.
Whispering.
"Mia…"
She froze.
No one was around. But the voice came again.
"Mia… You came back."
And from the shadows of the cabin, a figure moved.
Small. Female. Pale.
Lela?
But Lela didn't move like a person anymore. She floated, limbs stiff and jerky like a puppet on invisible strings.
Mia backed away, but her feet wouldn't obey. Her mind screamed to run, but her body was rooted in place.
Lela—or what was left of her—tilted her head and whispered,
"You weren't supposed to forget."
And then, the door to the cabin creaked open wider… welcoming her.