The air in the cabin turned dense, heavy with an unseen presence that seemed to press down on all of them. The voice—haunting, relentless—filled every corner of the room, though its origin was still a mystery.
Alexander's finger remained steady on the trigger, his body tense, eyes darting between the man with the gun and the woman who had betrayed them. But there was something far more dangerous in the room now—something none of them had anticipated.
Isabella felt it first, the cold rush of dread running down her spine as if a storm was brewing, waiting to break. The voice that called her name wasn't just a trick, a cruel imitation of Eliza's tone. It was something more.
Something real.
Alexander looked at her, his voice a low whisper. "What is it? What's happening?"
"I don't know," Isabella whispered back, but her hand unconsciously gripped his tighter, as if some part of her did know—some part she had been trying to bury since Eliza's death.
The woman who had led them into the trap took another step back, her eyes wide, panic etched across her face. "We need to leave," she said, her voice barely controlled. "Now. Before it's too late."
The man shot her a furious look, his grip tightening on his gun. "What are you talking about?"
"She's here," the woman whispered, her gaze darting toward the dark corners of the room. "She's come back."
The man's face twisted in confusion. "Who?"
"Eliza," Isabella answered before she could stop herself, the name falling from her lips like a curse. The moment she said it, she felt the temperature in the room drop even further.
Alexander's grip on the rifle tightened, his jaw clenching. "That's impossible. Eliza's dead."
The woman shook her head, eyes wide with fear. "Not dead. Not in the way you think. There are things… things you don't understand. Things none of us were supposed to."
The man growled in frustration. "Enough of this nonsense!" He turned his gun on the woman. "You were supposed to handle them, and now you're spouting some ghost story? Get a grip!"
But the woman wasn't listening to him anymore. Her attention was fully on the shadows that crept along the walls, as if something—or someone—was moving just beyond the reach of the dim light.
Suddenly, the voice filled the cabin once again, this time impossibly close, reverberating through Isabella's skull.
Isabella…
Her heart slammed against her ribs as the trapdoor beneath her feet creaked ominously. She stared at the floor, her breath catching in her throat.
Alexander's eyes followed hers. "Don't," he whispered. "Don't open it."
But she couldn't move. It was as if something was pulling her toward it, some force beyond her control. Her body moved on its own, inching toward the trapdoor as the voice continued to call her name.
The man in the dark coat turned his gun back on her, fury blazing in his eyes. "Stop!" he shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the growing intensity of the unseen force in the room.
The woman grabbed his arm, pulling him back. "You don't understand! We can't stop it!"
Before anyone could react, the trapdoor swung open with a violent crash, the wooden slats slamming against the floor as if struck by an invisible hand. A gust of icy wind blasted up from the darkness below, swirling around them, knocking over objects in the cabin.
Isabella stumbled back, her hands instinctively covering her ears as the voice echoed louder, almost deafening.
Come out, Isabella. It's time.
Alexander raised his rifle, aiming it into the open trapdoor, but the shadows inside seemed to pulse, alive, shifting with unnatural movements.
"What is this?" he demanded, his voice shaking, no longer able to hide the fear in his eyes.
The woman's face was pale, her hands trembling. "It's her… she never left. She's been waiting."
The man shook his head, disbelieving. "You're insane. This is some kind of trick. You're—"
But before he could finish, the shadows erupted from the trapdoor, a dark mass of swirling, writhing tendrils that shot toward him with unnatural speed. He didn't even have time to scream as they wrapped around him, pulling him down into the darkness with a violent yank. His gun clattered to the floor, useless.
Isabella gasped, stumbling back against Alexander, her entire body trembling. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the trapdoor, from the shadows that seemed to reach out, beckoning her.
It's time.
The woman sobbed, collapsing to her knees, her face buried in her hands. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know it would end like this."
Alexander grabbed Isabella's arm, pulling her back toward the door. "We need to go. Now."
But Isabella couldn't move. Something inside her was drawn to the trapdoor, to the swirling darkness that pulsed with an ancient, terrifying energy. She felt a pull, deep and visceral, as if her very soul was being called to it.
"I can't," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Yes, you can!" Alexander shouted, his desperation clear. "Whatever this is, it's not Eliza. She's gone, Isabella. We need to get out of here before it's too late."
But Isabella wasn't so sure anymore. The voice, the shadows, the cold—it all felt so real, so familiar. And despite every logical part of her mind screaming that this was madness, there was a small part of her that wanted to believe.
What if Eliza wasn't gone? What if she had found a way back?
As if in answer to her thoughts, the shadows shifted, parting just enough to reveal a figure standing in the darkness below. A pale hand reached out from the blackness, and for a moment, Isabella saw her.
Eliza.
She stood there, just beyond the threshold, her face gaunt and ghostly, her eyes filled with sorrow.
"Isabella," Eliza whispered, her voice a fragile, broken thing. "Help me."
Time seemed to stop. All the fear, all the panic, melted away, leaving only the overwhelming weight of that single moment.
Help me.
Isabella's hand reached out, trembling, toward her friend, the friend she had lost so long ago. But Alexander grabbed her wrist, pulling her back with all his strength.
"No!" he shouted, his voice filled with more fear than she had ever heard. "It's not her! Don't do this!"
Isabella's heart shattered as she looked between Alexander and the figure in the trapdoor. The choice loomed before her, terrifying in its finality.
And then, the figure below whispered one last time.
Come with me.
Isabella's breath caught in her throat.
She had to decide.