As I opened the book, my fingers froze mid-turn. The pages were empty.
Nothing. No words. No symbols. Just a hollow void.
"What?" I whispered, disbelief creeping into my voice. "What is this?"
Chase furrowed his brow, his usual cocky demeanor slipping. "Did we grab the wrong book?"
I flipped through the pages again.
Blank.
My frustration bubbled up, hot and suffocating. This couldn't be right.
An empty book? Had we really messed this up?
I gripped the edges so tightly that my knuckles turned white, a rush of heat behind my eyes threatening to spill over. But I refused to let the tears fall.
No. Don't give up, Ryleigh. Think.
But my mind went blank.
With a sharp exhale, I hurled the book to the ground, the force rattling the leaves beneath us. I sank to my knees, my arms wrapped tightly around my legs, trying to hold on to any shred of composure left.
Chase's footsteps were slow, deliberate, before he crouched beside me. "Maybe it needs to be back on the pedestal to work?"
I lifted my head, eyes rimmed with red, and stared at the book now lying in the dirt. Could it really be that simple? Was that all we needed to do?
But then a cold wave of panic swept through me.
The pedestal. Where was it? We had run, and we hadn't looked back.
"We can't go back to the pedestal," I muttered, frustration making my voice tremble. "I don't even know where it is anymore."
The words felt like defeat. Like we were lost.
"Well, that's not really a problem, is it?" Chase said, a lazy shrug in his voice. "We ran in a straight line. We'll find it."
His casual confidence made something tighten in my chest, but he was right. We hadn't veered off course. The pedestal had to be up ahead.
I pushed myself to my feet, brushing off the dirt.
"Let's find it," I said, forcing resolve into my voice.
Chase gave me a grin, the cocky charm returning. "After you," he said with a bow, sweeping his arm toward the path ahead. "I wonder what you'd do without me."
I shot him a glare, though it wasn't as sharp as it should have been. He flashed a grin, clearly pleased with himself.
The trek stretched on, each step sinking deeper into the eerie silence of the forest. The air felt thick, pressing in on me. I scanned every shadow, every rustling leaf—soldiers, wolves, anything.
And yet, despite the growing weight of danger, the path was unnervingly calm. No signs of life. No whispers of chaos. The longer we walked, the more unsettling it became. Something was off, but I couldn't place it.
Finally, the trees thinned. My heart skipped a beat as a familiar shape emerged: a small clearing. The stone pedestal stood, stark and silent in the middle.
"We found it," I muttered under my breath, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
Chase grinned, a little too smug. "Told you. Nothing can stop us now, right?"
I didn't answer right away. My gaze was locked on the pedestal, my pulse quickening, not from triumph but from something darker. It wasn't just the pedestal. It was what it meant—the end of one chapter, the beginning of another. A reset.
We approached cautiously, our steps slowing as we crossed the threshold into the clearing. The moment we stepped onto the soft grass, I froze mid-step as a voice sliced through the air—too calm, too perfect.
"Welcome to the Altar. Please place the book to reset the fairy tale story."
My breath caught, my pulse quickening. This was it—the moment we had been chasing for so long. But standing here, something felt wrong—like we were walking straight into a trap. The air had shifted, thickened, as though the forest itself was holding its breath.
Chase, however, didn't seem fazed. He blinked, then chuckled. "That's it? Really? Just find the book, put it on the pedestal, and bam—reset? Can't be that simple."
I could feel the unease gnawing at me, but he didn't seem to share it. His teasing grin made something tighten in my chest.
Was I overthinking it? Or was he missing something too?
I turned to look at him, trying to steady my breath. My grip tightened around the book, my knuckles almost white. There was something in his eyes—something buried beneath the casual facade. Fear? Doubt? It was hard to tell.
But there was no turning back now.
With a sharp breath, I stepped forward, my shoes brushing the grass as I placed the book gently on the stone pedestal.
The moment it made contact, the voice returned, but this time it was distant, colder.
"You have not completed the task. Reset has failed. You now have two chances left to reset. Failure will lead to your world's destruction."
A cold chill ran down my spine. "What?" My voice was barely a whisper, my heart hammering in my chest. "No. We did everything right. What are we missing?"
The voice didn't offer any comfort. "Would you like a clue?"
I froze. A clue? Could it really be that simple? Could we ask it questions?
I glanced at Chase, whose expression had hardened. His usual bravado was slipping.
"Uh… yes. Give us a clue," I said, forcing the words out. We couldn't afford to waste this chance.
The voice responded almost immediately, its tone even more mechanical: "Please state the name of the fairy tale to get a clue. If your answer is correct, you will receive a clue."
I hesitated, my stomach twisting. Could this be a trick? Or was this the way forward?
After a shaky breath, I said, "Cinderella."
The world seemed to stop.
Silence.
Not a rustle in the leaves. Not a single movement. It was as though time had stretched into an agonizing eternity.
My pulse pounded in my ears. Had I gotten it wrong? Was this really the answer? Or had we misstepped again?
I glanced around, desperately searching for any sign—anything—but there was nothing. Just that suffocating silence.
No. Something doesn't feel right.
"Your answer is incorrect. A penalty will be given. Shadow wolves will be released for 5 hours. Goodbye."
"Wait, what? It's not Cinderella?!"
The voice cut off, and just as it did, a wolf's howl echoed through the distance.
"Shit! Ryleigh, we need to move! The wolves are coming!" Chase's voice was sharp with panic.
He grabbed my wrist, but I wrenched free. "No, wait! The book!" My hand shot out to snatch it from the pedestal.
The howl echoed through the trees, louder and closer with every heartbeat.