We were grouped into five people.
Destiny, bad luck, or some divine prank—I wasn't sure which—but here I was, lumped with the most awkward guide I'd ever seen, the hothead girl who looked like she might punch the trail itself if it annoyed her, and the pleasant-looking girl from the bus I had almost—almost—tried talking to.
Apparently, the rule was simple: every team needed at least five, including the guide. Most folks came in ready-made groups, neat little hiking squads in matching caps or coordinated jackets. But we were the leftovers, the odd socks after laundry day. The last group to leave because everyone else had already departed.
And because fate loved jokes, we ended up with the substitute guide.
Edward. Skinny, bespectacled, shy, shuffling Edward. He wore his oversized trekking jacket like it belonged to someone else and clutched his clipboard as if the forest might demand financial reports at any moment.
"Didn't you say you'd called half a dozen people for this trip?" I asked Dante, raising a brow. "Where are they, hiding behind the trees?"
Dante elbowed me with a grin. "At least I had people to call. Where are your buddies?"
"They're here," I deadpanned, gesturing to the strangers in our lineup. "Don't you recognize them? This one's Steve, that's Carlos, and the scary one who looks like she's about to kill me is definitely my childhood friend."
The hothead girl, the scary one in question, crossed her arms. "Keep talking. You'll find out how right you are."
"See? Childhood friend vibes." I grinned weakly.
Dante cackled so hard even Edward raised an eyebrow.
We set off at last, boots crunching over gravel as the forest swallowed us whole. Pine trees rose on either side like watchful sentries, the air sharp and cool, carrying the faint song of unseen birds.
Introductions came naturally, or at least, as naturally as they could with a mismatched team.
Dante, of course, went first, practically announcing his name to the mountains. "Dante Rossi! Trekking enthusiast, adventure seeker, future record holder for fastest snack consumption on a climb! And no, I am not Italian."
The hothead rolled her eyes. "Selene." No surname, no explanation. Just Selene, sharp as a blade.
Edward cleared his throat. "Edward Grey. I, uh… usually work as an accountant. Numbers. But today I'm your… guide." He gave us all a nervous smile that made me question whether he knew which way north was.
Then the girl from bus spoke. "Amira Zayed. I'm happy to have all of your company today." Her voice was warm, steady—the kind of tone that made you want to keep listening. She gave a small smile, and for a second, the trail didn't feel so cold.
Kieran. My turn. "Kieran Vale. I work in an office… the kind where fluorescent lights go to die. My hobbies include drinking too much coffee and pretending I don't hate spreadsheets."
That earned a quiet laugh from Amira. I counted that as my biggest achievement of the day so far.
"So, first trek?" I asked.
She nodded. "No, I used to come with my boyfriend here—that is before we broke up. Figured out, it was time to make new memories. Yours?"
"Yep. I figured I'd suffer in nature before it suffers me. Thought it'd be more poetic that way."
She chuckled.
I nodded.
Pretending it didn't sting. Internally, though—ouch. So much for fate and bus rides. If she was still carrying her ex in her shadow, what chance did I have? Maybe it was better not to think about that at all.
Keep it casual, I told myself. Not every story needed a romance.
At first, Edward shuffled quietly in the lead, but after a while, he started speaking.
"These spruces," he said, pointing with his clipboard, "have unusually thick needles. Helps them conserve water in the dry winters here."
Dante blinked. "Wait, you know plants?"
Edward adjusted his glasses. "I know a little about everything. Comes in handy." Then, almost as an afterthought: "Did you know this trail was carved out nearly a century ago by surveyors looking for mining routes? They abandoned it when the mountain proved unstable."
I told myself, probably having a nerd for a guide isn't that bad either.
The trail bent upward, winding like a snake through thicker forest. Our chatter carried us for a while—Dante boasting about past treks, Edward nervously correcting him on distances and terrain, Selene cutting in whenever she felt someone was exaggerating, and Amira quietly asking thoughtful questions that somehow made everyone open up.
I found myself beside her for most of it.
But just as I thought the day would stay this light, the sky had other plans.
That was when the air shifted.
A breeze rolled down the slope, cool at first, then sharp enough to raise goosebumps. The sunlight dimmed as gray clouds slid across the sky, shadows pooling between the trees. The smell of rain carried on the wind, heavy and metallic.
"Storm?" Dante asked, glancing up. "It was supposed to be clear today."
Edward nodded thoughtfully. "Weather's tricky at this altitude. Rising warm air hits cooler layers above, condenses fast, and forms mist. Thunderstorms build in pockets like this all the time. If we aren't lucky the path ahead soon won't be visible at all"
Right on cue, a distant rumble cracked across the horizon.
The path grew slick as the first drops began to fall, the sky darkening unnaturally fast. Mist crept in from the ridges, a pale veil slithering between the trees. It wasn't sudden—it thickened slowly, like the forest exhaled it. But soon, our view shrank to mere yards ahead.
"We're too far from the safe house and too far to turn back," Edward said quietly.
"Great," I muttered. "Nature's already trying to kill us, and we're not even halfway."
But then, through the shifting mist, we saw it.
A shape on the ridge.
A mansion.
Our only shelter.
And as thunder boomed again overhead, I couldn't shake the thought: whatever waited inside was worse than the storm.