On a pitch-black night in Gravesville Forest, two young officers crept cautiously among the towering trees. The forest wasn't dense with shrubbery but rather an overwhelming number of ancient, gnarled trunks that twisted skyward, blotting out even the faintest slivers of moonlight. This forest bordered the city's cemetery to the east, a detail that many Gravesville residents avoided mentioning, as though acknowledging it gave the place power.
The entrance to the forest was sealed with bright yellow police tape stretched across a rusted gate, its hinges hanging crookedly. Beyond it, the remnants of a park sprawled out like a forgotten relic of happier times. Posters of missing persons fluttered in the faint breeze, pinned to tree trunks that leaned slightly inward, as though the forest itself were trying to conceal them.
"Max, we've been walking for hours, and it's getting creepy," said Dax, the more cautious of the two, as he kicked at the dirt path. His flashlight flickered over the uneven ground.
"Relax, Dax. You're just tired. Besides, you wanted this mission," Max replied, shining his light toward a cluster of empty swings swaying gently in the night.
"I wanted it because you dragged me into it! We're stretched thin because of the mess over on the west side, and you thought this would be 'fun,'" Dax retorted.
"Yeah, I did. We haven't had a decent case in months, and you know it," Max shot back with a grin. "Don't try to pin this all on me. You'd be bored stiff if you weren't here. Admit it."
Dax muttered something under his breath and stepped over a rotting branch. "Maybe, but I didn't think you'd sign me up without asking."
Max shrugged. "Inseparable since birth, Dax. Our names literally rhyme."
Dax stopped walking, turned, and pointed his flashlight directly into Max's face. "We're not even related. Not by an inch."
"Doesn't change the facts," Max replied, smirking as he brushed past him.
The park section of the forest felt desolate, as though it had been abandoned not just by people but by life itself. The swings creaked softly in the night wind, and a lone blanket lay draped over a crumbling park bench. Squirrels darted up the trees at the officers' approach, their tiny claws scratching faintly against the bark.
Max's flashlight settled on an old playground, its slide coated with a thin layer of grime and its seesaw missing one end entirely. "Even the homeless stopped coming here," he muttered, kicking at a discarded can. "This place hasn't seen life in months."
Dax walked over to a patch of posters pinned haphazardly to the nearest tree. The paper was weathered, some sheets torn and stained. As his flashlight roved over them, the scratched-out faces of the missing stared back at him. "It's weird, though," he said, peeling one loose. "You'd think the special forces would have taken over by now. I mean, look at this." He waved the poster in front of Max.
"Special forces have their hands full," Max replied. "Besides, isn't it obvious what's going on?"
Dax frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Max hesitated, then sighed. "The Miracle Child."
Dax snorted. "You're not serious."
Max fixed his partner with a stern look. "A child born in a cemetery from a dead mother, Dax. We never solved that case. And since then, everything's gone downhill. Disappearances, rising violence. You can't tell me it's all coincidence."
Dax shook his head and kept walking. "You sound like those conspiracy theorists on the news. That was fifteen years ago, Max. Whatever happened that night, it's in the past. Let it go."
Max's flashlight swept over a row of trees, their bark marred by deep, jagged scratches. "Maybe. But tell that to the people on these posters." His light settled on the name Gary Nivelle, scrawled hastily on the edge of a tattered photo.
"Gary Nivelle," Dax repeated, as if testing the name on his tongue. "We'll find him, Max. Just like we found Chris Nolan." He tapped another poster, one marked with a bright red stamp: Recovered.
Max's face softened. "Yeah. Let's hope you're right."
The two pressed deeper into the forest, the air growing colder and heavier with each step. Unbeknownst to them, the ground beneath their feet had shifted. The path had vanished, replaced by a labyrinth of twisted roots and shadows. By the time they realized they were lost, a cave loomed ahead, its dark mouth like a waiting predator.
As they ventured further into the forest, Max's police transmitter crackled to life, breaking the eerie silence. He paused and grabbed the device, speaking into it.
"Officer Max here," he said briskly.
"Max, how's it going out there?" the voice on the other end inquired, filled with static but audible enough to make out.
Max glanced at Dax, who rolled his eyes. "It's going well," Max replied confidently.
"Well?" Dax interjected, leaning closer to the transmitter. "Without a single sign of evidence? Yeah, real well."
Max shoved Dax back slightly, annoyed. "Ignore him," he said into the transmitter. "We're making progress. In fact…" His voice trailed off as his flashlight caught something glistening on the ground ahead. A faint trail of red snaked its way through the underbrush, vanishing into the darkness beyond.
"We found a blood trail," Max said firmly. "We're following it now."
Dax, suddenly alert, crouched down to examine the trail. He dipped his fingers into the blood and rubbed them together, his brow furrowing. "It's fresh," he muttered, wiping his hand on a nearby leaf.
Max nodded, trying to suppress a grin of triumph. For a moment, he almost felt relieved—finally, something concrete. Straightening his back, he returned to a professional tone. "Understood. We'll report back if we find anything further." He ended the call and clipped the transmitter back to his belt.
Walking back to Dax, Max gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. "Let's move. Cautiously this time."
Both officers unholstered their weapons, their senses on high alert as they trailed the blood. The atmosphere around them seemed to grow heavier, the forest unnaturally silent save for the crunch of their boots against the soil.
Max lagged slightly behind as something caught his eye. His flashlight flickered over a nearby tree trunk, revealing streaks of blood smeared across the bark. "Dax," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.
"What now?" Dax asked, continuing forward.
"There's blood… on the trees," Max said, shining his light on another trunk, and then another. The smears grew more frequent as they moved, each mark more jagged and chaotic than the last.
Dax stopped in his tracks, turning his flashlight upward to follow the trail of blood that now seemed to drip faintly from the branches above. His jaw tightened as realization dawned. "This… isn't normal."
Max swallowed hard, gripping his weapon tighter. "No, it's not."
Max's whispered words barely left his lips when a sharp, swift breath cut through the silence behind them. Both officers froze, their hearts pounding in their chests.
Dax whipped around first, shining his flashlight into the dense darkness. Nothing. Just trees, shadows, and the faint glisten of blood trailing into the abyss.
Max followed, his breathing shallow. "Did you hear that?" he asked, his voice trembling.
"Yeah," Dax muttered, his eyes darting around. "Probably just an animal."
But as they turned back to face the trail, the scene behind them seemed... different. Subtle, yet unmistakable. The trees, once familiar, appeared taller, their branches clawing at the sky like twisted hands. The blood trail seemed to snake in a direction it hadn't before.
Max's nerves began to fray. His flashlight wavered in his grip as his eyes darted left, then right. Another rush of movement came, like a gust of air brushing past them.
They spun around again, their lights slicing through the darkness. The forest shifted once more. Shadows danced where there should have been none, and the path behind them seemed to stretch endlessly into black.
"Stay calm, Max," Dax said, forcing a steadiness he didn't feel.
I am calm," Max snapped, his voice betraying him. "Something's not right. It's like the forest is... moving."
Another sound, closer this time. Both men turned again, their lights catching fleeting glimpses of something-a shape, a shadow, a flicker of movement that disappeared as quickly as it came.
"Stop playing games!" Dax shouted into the darkness, his voice echoing. But his bravado faded when he turned back to Max and saw the panic etched on his partner's face.
Suddenly, they turned once more-and froze.
At Dax's feet lay the severed head of Gary Novelle, his lifeless eyes staring blankly into nothingness.
Dax staggered back, nearly dropping his flashlight. "What the hell..." he cursed under his breath.
Max, wide-eyed and trembling, didn't move. He stared at the grotesque sight, his mind struggling to comprehend what he was seeing.
Dax reached for his transmitter, his fingers shaking as he fumbled with the device. "We need backup-"
But his words caught in his throat. He looked up, and his surroundings had changed.
"What the-?" Dax and Max said in unison.
They were no longer in the forest. The air was colder, heavier. The blood trail now stretched into a yawning cavern, its jagged walls illuminated by an unnatural red glow.
"We're in a cave," Dax whispered, his voice barely audible over the oppressive silence.
Max didn't respond.
"Max?" Dax turned to his partner-and froze.
Max stood stiff, his eyes wide and unseeing. A thin line of red snaked across his throat, and before Dax could process what was happening, Max crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
"No... no, no!" Dax stumbled backward, bile rising in his throat.
But before he could take another step, a sharp, cold pain tore through his middle. He looked down, his flashlight slipping from his grasp as he saw the jagged line slicing him clean in half.
His body collapsed to the cave floor in two pieces, his last thoughts drowned by the suffocating darkness.