Victor's pulse raced, the sound of his heart hammering in his chest drowned out the night's silence. His legs felt like they were made of stone, but he forced them to move. He couldn't lose Nathan. Not like this. Not without answers.
"Nathan?" he called, his voice hoarse, shaking with a mix of fear and desperation. "Nathan, where are you?"
No response. Only the rustling of leaves in the wind.
Victor's mind raced, pulling him in all directions. That smile, that empty, hollow smile on Nathan's face—it was as if his son wasn't really his son anymore. Something else, something dark, had taken hold of him. And whatever it was, it was dragging him deeper into the woods, into the unknown.
The coldness of the air seemed to seep into his bones as he continued down the trail, his eyes scanning the darkness, searching for any sign of Nathan. The path twisted and turned, leading him further away from the safety of the park's entrance. He had no idea how far he had walked or how much time had passed. The trees loomed around him like silent sentinels, watching, waiting.
Then, just as he thought he might lose all hope, he heard it.
A faint cry.
It wasn't Nathan's voice. It was distant, muffled, as if it were coming from far away, but it still made Victor's blood run cold. The cry sounded like someone in pain—someone desperate for help.
Victor's instincts kicked in. He ran toward the sound, pushing through the thick underbrush, ignoring the branches that scraped at his face and arms. The trail began to narrow, and the ground beneath his feet became uneven, but he didn't stop. He couldn't.
He reached a clearing. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting an eerie glow over the scene. And there, lying on the ground, was Nathan's phone.
But Nathan wasn't there.
Victor's breath caught in his throat as he bent down to pick up the phone. It was cracked, the screen shattered, but there was something more disturbing about it than the damage. On the screen, a message flashed, written in a strange, jagged script.
*"It's too late to turn back. You've already been marked."*
The words made no sense. His stomach churned, and he suddenly felt very, very alone. His mind screamed at him to turn around, to go back, to find Karen and get out of this place. But he knew it was already too late for that. Whatever had taken Nathan had marked him, too. It was coming for him, just as it had come for his son.
A low whisper broke the silence.
"You should have stayed away."
Victor spun around, but there was no one there. The voice had come from behind him, as if it had been whispered directly into his ear.
His skin prickled, and his breath came in short gasps. He turned in a circle, trying to locate the source of the voice. The forest seemed to close in on him, the trees towering like dark sentinels, their branches stretching out like skeletal hands.
And then, he saw it.
A shadow, moving too quickly, darting between the trees.
Victor's instincts told him to run, to escape, but his legs felt heavy, like they were being pulled down by some invisible force. His heart pounded louder in his chest, his thoughts a blur. Was it Nathan? Was it something else?
Before he could process what was happening, a hand shot out of the darkness and grabbed him by the wrist.
Victor let out a startled cry, spinning to face his assailant, but it was not a stranger who had grabbed him.
It was Nathan.
But the boy who stood before him was not his son. His eyes were empty, hollow, devoid of any recognition. His skin was pale, almost ghostly, and his mouth curled into that sickening, unnatural smile.
"Why did you come, Father?" Nathan's voice was strange, cold, and distant. It was as if he were speaking from somewhere far away, his words not his own.
Victor's mind raced, his heart ached. *This isn't my son.* He wasn't sure what he was looking at, but it wasn't Nathan. This wasn't the boy he had raised, the one who had laughed and played and been stubborn and kind.
"Nathan…" Victor whispered, his voice breaking. "Please, it's me. It's your father. You have to remember. You have to come back."
Nathan's smile widened, but it was a twisted thing, full of malice. "It's too late. You never should have come. You're part of it now. Just like I am."
Victor recoiled, his mind spinning. What was Nathan saying? What was he talking about? He had to get through to him. *This wasn't his son. It couldn't be.*
"Nathan, listen to me. I'm going to help you. We'll get out of here. Just come with me," Victor pleaded, reaching out a trembling hand.
But Nathan only stepped back, shaking his head slowly. "You can't save me, Father. Not now. Not anymore."
The forest seemed to come alive around them. The trees creaked and groaned as if the very earth beneath their feet were shifting. Victor's stomach twisted in fear, the air growing heavier with each passing second.
Suddenly, a loud cracking sound echoed through the trees, followed by a deep rumble that seemed to shake the ground. The ground beneath Victor's feet trembled, and he stumbled, nearly losing his balance.
The voice—now a chorus of whispers—began to rise, their words indistinguishable but full of an unnatural, haunting cadence. They filled his ears, spinning around him like a whirlwind.
Victor's eyes widened with terror as the forest began to shift. The trees bent, the shadows deepened, and the very earth seemed to swallow the light around them. Something ancient, something powerful, was awakening, and it wasn't just after Nathan anymore.
It was after him, too.
Victor reached for Nathan again, desperate to save him, but the boy—no, the thing wearing his son's face—shook his head. "It's too late, Father. You're already here."
Before Victor could react, the ground beneath him cracked open, and everything around him plunged into darkness.
The last thing he heard was Nathan's voice, laughing—a sound that no longer held any trace of humanity.
"You're one of us now."
And then, everything went black.