It had been three months since Grace Jennings escaped Pine Hollow, but the memories clung to her like a shadow she couldn't shake. She had left town as quickly as she could, driving south to Boston, hoping the noise and light of the city would drown out the whispers she still heard at night. But no matter how far she went, the nightmares followed. In them, she was always back in the woods, surrounded by the Watchers—tall, twisted figures with glowing eyes, their whispers growing louder, closer, until she woke in a cold sweat.
Grace wasn't the same after that night. She barely slept, barely ate, and rarely went out. She quit her part-time job and stopped answering her parents' calls. They didn't believe her anyway. No one did. They thought she had gone into Pine Hollow and gotten lost, that her panic had conjured up hallucinations. But Grace knew better. She knew the Watchers were real, and she was certain they weren't finished with her yet.
Then, one night, the call came. It was late, nearly midnight, and Grace was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, when her phone rang. The number was unfamiliar, but something about it made her hesitate before answering. A voice she hadn't heard in years came through the line.
"Grace? It's Emily."
Grace sat up, her heart thudding in her chest. Emily had been her best friend growing up, but they'd drifted apart when Grace left for college. They hadn't spoken in years. "Emily? What's going on?"
Emily's voice was shaky, like she was trying to keep herself calm. "I—I don't know who else to call. It's my brother, Zach. He's missing. He went into Pine Hollow."
The air left Grace's lungs. She could barely manage a whisper. "When?"
"Three days ago. The police have been looking, but they haven't found anything. I heard what happened to you. I didn't believe it at first, but… Grace, I don't know what else to do. Please. You're the only one who knows what's out there."
Grace's head spun. The Watchers. She had been trying so hard to forget, to escape. And now, they had taken someone else. She knew what that meant—Zach was as good as dead. No one came back from Pine Hollow. Not alive, anyway.
But something inside her shifted. Maybe it was guilt for running away, maybe it was the haunting memories of those figures in the woods, or maybe it was the desperate plea in Emily's voice. Whatever it was, Grace knew she couldn't leave her friend to face this alone.
"I'll come back," she said quietly, her throat tight. "I'll help you find him."
---
Two days later, Grace was back in her hometown, standing at the edge of Pine Hollow. It looked exactly as she remembered—silent, dark, and uninviting. The trees, tall and twisted, reached toward the sky like the gnarled fingers of a corpse. There was no wind, no sound, only the oppressive weight of the forest pressing in on her.
Emily stood beside her, pale and exhausted. She had barely slept since Zach went missing. "They searched the woods for two days," she said quietly, staring into the tree line. "They didn't find anything. No sign of him."
Grace's mouth was dry. She had been dreading this moment since she left Boston, and now that she was here, the terror of what waited in the woods returned in full force. Her skin crawled, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She could feel it—that familiar sense of being watched. The Watchers knew she was back.
"I don't think the police can help," Grace said softly. "If Zach's still alive… it's not just the woods keeping him. It's them."
Emily turned to her, confused. "Who's them? What are you talking about?"
Grace swallowed hard. How could she explain what she had seen, what she had felt, without sounding insane? But if anyone would believe her, it was Emily. "There's something in the woods. Something old. I don't know what they are, but they watch you, they whisper to you. And once they find you, they don't let you go."
Emily stared at her, wide-eyed. "And Zach…?"
"If they have him, he's not safe." Grace's voice trembled, her hands shaking at her sides. "But I think… maybe we can still save him."
A heavy silence fell between them. Emily didn't ask any more questions. She simply nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Then let's go."
---
They entered the woods just before dusk, the air cold and still. Grace led the way, every step filling her with dread. The trees closed in around them, and soon, the world outside the forest seemed to vanish. The deeper they went, the darker it became, even though the sun hadn't fully set. The shadows between the trees twisted and shifted unnaturally, and Grace's breath quickened as she recognized the signs.
The whispers started softly, just as they had the last time. Faint, unintelligible murmurs carried on the wind. Emily stopped suddenly, her face pale. "Did you hear that?"
Grace nodded grimly. "Stay close. Don't stop, no matter what you hear. They'll try to confuse you."
The whispers grew louder, more distinct, but the words still made no sense. They were low and guttural, a language that felt ancient, like it had been lost to time. Grace's heart pounded in her chest, but she forced herself to keep moving.
They walked for what felt like hours, deeper into the heart of the forest. The air grew colder, and soon, Grace could see her breath in the fading light. The trees seemed to shift, as if they were alive, moving subtly to trap them in a maze of roots and branches.
Suddenly, Emily gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Grace turned to see what she was looking at—and froze.
Ahead of them, partially obscured by the trees, was Zach.
He stood motionless, his back turned to them, his body pale and rigid like a statue. His clothes were dirty and torn, and his skin looked almost gray. He wasn't moving.
"Zach!" Emily screamed, running toward him.
"No!" Grace lunged forward, grabbing Emily's arm. "Wait!"
But it was too late. Emily pulled free and rushed toward her brother, throwing her arms around him. "Zach! Oh my God, you're alive!"
For a moment, Zach didn't move. Then, slowly, he turned his head, revealing his face.
Grace's blood turned to ice. Zach's eyes were wide and glassy, his pupils blown, his expression blank. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Instead, from behind them, the whispering voices rose in a deafening crescendo.
The Watchers were here.