The forest surrounded Samuel and Adanne like a thick, impenetrable wall, the canopy above blotting out even the faint light of the stars. Each rustle of leaves or snap of a twig made Samuel's nerves tighten, his grip on the knife firm but trembling. Adanne clung to his arm, her breaths shallow, her steps uneven.
"We need to keep moving," Samuel whispered, scanning the shadows around them. "He's not going to stop."
Adanne nodded, though exhaustion was etched into every line of her face. Her free hand rested protectively over her swollen belly. Samuel noticed and felt a pang of guilt. He hadn't been able to protect her from being taken, and now he was dragging her through a dark forest with no clear destination.
Still, he couldn't let his doubts slow him down. He had to get her to safety.
"Do you think…" Adanne's voice broke the tense silence. "Do you think he's following us?"
Samuel hesitated before answering. "I don't know. But I'm not taking any chances."
Adanne's hand tightened on his arm, her fear palpable. "Why us, Samuel? Why me? What does he want with our baby?"
Samuel's jaw clenched. He didn't have the answers, but the jars in the warehouse and the tools he'd seen on that table painted a horrific picture.
"It doesn't matter," he said firmly. "We're getting out of here."
---
The deeper they went into the forest, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The air was heavy, filled with the scent of damp earth and rotting wood. Samuel had to force himself to focus on the ground ahead, avoiding twisted roots and patches of mud that threatened to trip them up.
Then they heard it.
A low, guttural chant, carried on the wind like a ghostly whisper.
Samuel froze, his grip tightening on Adanne's arm. The chant wasn't loud, but it was unmistakable—a rhythmic, otherworldly murmur that seemed to vibrate in the very air around them.
"Do you hear that?" Adanne whispered, her voice trembling.
Samuel nodded, his heart pounding. "Stay close."
They moved cautiously toward the sound, every step feeling heavier than the last. The chanting grew louder, more distinct. It was a language Samuel didn't recognize, the words harsh and guttural, yet strangely hypnotic.
Finally, they reached a clearing.
---
The sight that greeted them was like something out of a nightmare.
In the center of the clearing stood a circle of hooded figures, their robes black and flowing like liquid shadows. They moved in perfect unison, their hands raised as they chanted in a guttural rhythm that made Samuel's skin crawl.
At the heart of the circle was a stone altar, slick with fresh blood. On it lay the lifeless body of a woman, her stomach grotesquely opened.
Adanne gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. Samuel's stomach lurched, bile rising in his throat. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the cover of the trees.
"We have to go," he whispered urgently. "Now."
But before they could move, one of the hooded figures turned.
Samuel ducked, pulling Adanne down with him. He peered through the undergrowth, his heart hammering as the figure's hood fell back.
It was the man in the wide-brimmed hat.
---
Samuel's breath caught as the man stepped forward, his scarred face illuminated by the flickering torches surrounding the altar. He raised a hand, and the chanting stopped abruptly. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the crackling of the torches.
"We are close," the man announced, his voice carrying across the clearing. "The vessel is prepared. The blood has been spilled. Soon, the life within will fulfill its purpose."
Adanne stiffened beside Samuel, her hand gripping his arm so tightly it hurt.
"They're talking about me," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Samuel didn't respond. His mind was racing, trying to come up with a plan. They couldn't run now—not without being seen. And there was no way he was letting them take Adanne again.
The man in the hat continued, his tone reverent. "The unborn are the purest form of life. Their potential, untapped. Their energy, untainted. And when harnessed, they will bring power beyond imagining."
Samuel felt a surge of rage at the words. These people didn't see Adanne's baby as a life—they saw it as a tool, a means to an end.
He couldn't let this continue.
---
Slowly, Samuel leaned closer to Adanne. "We need to find a way to stop them. If they're after you, they won't stop until they get what they want."
Adanne shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "I just want to go home, Samuel. I can't—I can't do this."
Samuel cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You're the strongest person I know. And I promise, we'll get out of this. Together."
Adanne sniffled, nodding weakly.
"Stay here," Samuel whispered, placing the knife in her hands. "If anything happens, run. Don't stop, don't look back."
"What are you going to do?" Adanne asked, her voice shaking.
Samuel's jaw tightened. "Whatever it takes."
---
He crept toward the clearing, his heart pounding with every step. The hooded figures hadn't moved, their attention still focused on the man in the hat. Samuel crouched behind a fallen tree, his eyes scanning the area for anything he could use.
His gaze landed on one of the torches.
An idea began to form. It was risky—reckless, even—but it was the only chance they had.
Samuel waited until the man in the hat turned his back, then made his move. He darted forward, grabbing the torch and spinning around to face the group.
"Get away from her!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the clearing.
The hooded figures turned in unison, their movements unnervingly synchronized. The man in the hat's eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, his expression one of cold amusement.
"You don't understand what you're interfering with," the man said. "This is bigger than you, bigger than her. You cannot stop what has already begun."
Samuel tightened his grip on the torch. "Watch me."
He swung the torch toward the altar, the flames catching the edge of the blood-soaked cloth draped over it. The fire spread quickly, licking up the sides of the stone.
The hooded figures broke their formation, scrambling to put out the flames. Samuel took the opportunity to grab a sharp fragment of stone from the ground, holding it like a weapon.
The man in the hat lunged at him, but Samuel was ready. He dodged the attack and drove the stone into the man's side.
The man let out a guttural snarl, staggering back. His hooded followers turned toward Samuel, their eyes gleaming with fury.
"Adanne, run!" Samuel shouted, his voice desperate.
---
From the treeline, Adanne hesitated for a moment before bolting. She clutched the knife tightly, her legs burning as she sprinted through the forest.
Behind her, she heard Samuel's shouts, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps.
"Please, God," she whispered through her tears. "Let him be okay."
But even as she ran, she couldn't shake the feeling that their nightmare was far from over.