The forest thickened as the team trudged forward, shadows lengthening with the dying light. Smith's steps were mechanical, his body moving while his mind churned beneath the surface. He kept fiddling with the satellite phone in his pocket, its cold, lifeless screen mocking him. No signal. Not here, not on his phone either. He'd tried everything. The connection to the world beyond this place was severed. Nothing feels right… nothing feels right, he kept repeating to himself.
His fingers grazed the outline of the small pouch in his cargo pocket — the treasure, the culmination of weeks of gruelling effort. It was his alone now, within his grasp, but the weight of it didn't bring comfort. Instead, it coiled inside him like a secret waiting to betray him.
His mind flickered back to the pit, to that thing. The faceless monstrosity, a writhing chaos of thirteen tentacles, each one glistening and deadly. The horror of it — the way those tentacles had slithered, blindly seeking him out — sent a chill through his veins. He hadn't seen eyes, but he'd felt them. Scrutiny that stripped him bare and judged him unworthy. It was fear like he'd never known. He thought he'd left it in that pit, buried beneath rubble and adrenaline. But fear, it seemed, had followed him.
Lost in thought, his breaths grew shallow. Why does it still feel like it's reaching for me?
A sudden scuffle ahead snapped him back to the present. Abigail's foot caught on a loose rock, her balance wavering. She pitched forward, the ground rising to meet her.
Without thinking, Smith's hand shot out, catching her arm just in time. The world narrowed as he steadied her. The forest seemed to vanish, leaving only Abigail's face, framed by stray strands of hair, eyes wide as she stared up at him.
But it wasn't fear he saw in her eyes. It was something deeper, something that mirrored his turmoil. A silent recognition — like she saw him completely, stripped of his stoic mask. In that instant, he wasn't the calm, quiet one; he was the man who'd seen a nightmare and barely escaped. And she knew.
His pulse pounded in his ears. He remembered those tentacles closing in, remembered thinking it was the end. He'd escaped then, but staring into Abigail's eyes, the same dread washed over him. That faceless monster still had him in its grip.
His hand trembled. His grip faltered.
He let go.
Abigail landed softly on her backside, a small grunt of surprise escaping her lips. She looked up at him, brow furrowed, the connection between them fraying.
Smith staggered back, his mouth dry. Why did I let go? He clenched his fists, his breath ragged. The creature's cold, dark aura clawed at the edges of his mind, wrapping around his thoughts. Nothing feels right… nothing feels right.
Henry's voice broke through the fog. "Smith? What happened?" His tone was edged with concern.
Smith swallowed hard, struggling to steady his voice. "It's fine. I just—" He couldn't find the words.
Abigail pushed herself to her feet, brushing dirt from her hands with slow, deliberate movements. Her eyes met Smith's, the cold edge of her gaze cutting through the thick, stagnant air between them.
"Thanks for letting go," she said, her voice flat, devoid of gratitude. "You're reliable when it counts."
The words stung more than any shout ever could. Smith's jaw tightened, the weight of her disappointment settling heavily on his shoulders. He opened his mouth to respond, to defend himself, but nothing came. The truth was lodged in his throat, tangled in fear and uncertainty.
Abigail's eyes narrowed, the distance between them growing not just physically, but in a way that felt impossible to bridge. "I thought you had it together," she continued, her tone low and icy. "I thought you wanted to be here. But maybe you're just as lost as the rest of us."
Her words pierced through the facade he'd worked so hard to maintain. He felt exposed, his carefully guarded fear laid bare. The silence stretched between them, thick and unrelenting.
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked ahead, her strides confident, her back straight. Smith watched her go, his hands curled into fists at his sides. The faceless monster's cold presence still clung to his mind, but now, another shadow had joined it — the shadow of her doubt.
I thought you had it together. The words echoed, gnawing at his resolve. He glanced down at his pocket, feeling the weight of the treasure he'd found. It was supposed to be his triumph, but now it felt like an anchor, dragging him deeper into uncertainty.
The team moved forward, and Smith forced his feet to follow, his thoughts churning. Whatever strength he thought he had, whatever control he thought he wielded — it was slipping through his fingers.
And he wasn't sure if he could get it back.
They arrived at the old man's cabin, a modest structure nestled among the thick trees. From the outside, it appeared small, perhaps more a cottage than a home, but as they stepped inside, they found it surprisingly spacious. The furniture was sparse, the place minimally furnished, but it was enough to accommodate them all. Felix, the old man, led them through the cabin, showing them to separate rooms — one for the men and one for the women. Nine gentlemen and six ladies, a tight fit, but manageable.
Felix's voice broke the silence as he spoke, his tone almost apologetic. "My home's not exactly comfortable. I hope you can make do."
Henry gave a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks. We appreciate it."
A faint, almost unreadable smile crept onto Felix's face as he nodded. "You'll leave by sunrise. And it's best to stay quiet. This place… it's more dangerous than you think. A real conundrum."
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Why are you telling us this now?"
Felix looked them all over with a sombre expression. "It's the only way I can guarantee your safety."