Chapter 1: The Invitation
The email arrived at midnight. The subject line read: "A Unique Opportunity: Research in the Forgotten Pines."
Eli wiped the sleep from his eyes and stared at the screen. The message was vague but intriguing, promising a substantial sum for documenting "unique phenomena" at an isolated settlement deep in an ancient forest. It listed no sender, just a logo: a pair of jagged lines that resembled fractured soundwaves.
Attached was a list of the chosen team: five strangers, all with expertise in different fields. Eli, a sound engineer, was skeptical. His field of work didn't often overlap with historical research or archaeology. Still, the promise of payment-and the thinly veiled mystery-was enough to lure him in.
The final line of the email lingered in his mind:
"Do not bring any outside communication devices. The forest hears everything."
The helicopter ride was turbulent, jostling the team as it soared over miles of dense, unbroken wilderness. The forest below looked like a sea of black-green waves, endless and untouched.
Eli glanced at the others. The historian, Claire, was leafing through a notebook, her pen scrawling notes even as the aircraft bucked. The linguist, Dr. Ashar, stared out the window, his sharp eyes scanning the terrain as if he could already see the ruins. The videographer, Lena, was adjusting her camera settings, her equipment gleaming under the dim cabin light. The survivalist, Marcus, sat silently, his arms crossed, his face a mask of practiced indifference.
The pilot spoke, his voice crackling through the comms. "We're landing here. The settlement's a day's hike from this point. You're on your own now."
The helicopter touched down in a small clearing surrounded by towering pines. The air was cold and thin, carrying a faint metallic tang. As the rotors slowed, the oppressive silence of the forest settled over them like a shroud.
"Great," Marcus muttered, slinging a pack over his shoulder. "This already feels like a bad idea."
The hike was grueling. The trees seemed to press closer with every step, their gnarled branches arching overhead like skeletal fingers. The only sounds were the crunch of boots on the snow and the occasional whisper of wind.
Eli kept his recording equipment close, scanning for ambient noises. What struck him wasn't what he heard-it was what he didn't hear. No birds. No rustling of small animals. Not even the distant hum of insects.
"Anyone else noticing the silence?" Eli asked, his voice unnaturally loud in the stillness.
"It's the elevation," Claire replied. But her voice was tight, and she avoided his eyes.
By the time they reached the settlement, the sun was dipping below the horizon, casting the forest in deep blues and purples. The ruins appeared suddenly, emerging from the undergrowth like jagged teeth.
"What the hell..." Lena murmured, her camera already clicking.
The settlement consisted of half-collapsed cabins, their wooden frames rotting and warped. Strange symbols were carved into the walls and trees-spirals, jagged lines, shapes that seemed to twist into themselves the longer you looked.
Marcus stopped short. "Those marks look fresh."
"No way," Claire said, though her voice wavered. She leaned closer, tracing one of the carvings with a gloved finger. "These markings... they're ancient. But the edges are sharp. Like they were just made."
Eli set up his sound recorder. A low hum registered on the device, faint but steady, like the echo of a distant machine. He frowned and adjusted the settings, but the hum remained.
Night fell quickly, and with it came the whispers.
At first, Eli thought it was the wind. But as he lay in his tent, listening, he realized the sounds carried a strange cadence-rising and falling like speech. He sat up, holding his breath. The whispers grew louder, clearer.
He crawled to the tent's flap and unzipped it just enough to peer outside. The campfire still flickered faintly, casting long, jittery shadows. Beyond the circle of light, the forest loomed, its darkness impenetrable.
And then he heard it.
"Eli."
The whisper came from the trees, soft but unmistakable. It was his own voice.