Anne, Brittany, and Lily moved through the winding path Mrs. Hodgins had marked—a trail of twisted trees, flickering lanterns, and whispers in the wind.
Forevermore pulsed around them.
The road curved unnaturally, bending like it remembered something painful. The sky above was a bruised violet, and the air shimmered with static.
Anne didn't speak.
She clutched the lamp tightly, her eyes locked forward.
Lily glanced at Brittany. "She's not blinking."
"She's not breathing either," Brittany muttered. "But I'm not about to poke her."
They kept walking.
Scene: The Real World Broadcast
Meanwhile, outside Forevermore—
The world was unraveling.
A news broadcast crackled across every screen:
"Since the disappearance of several teenagers last week, the town of Elmsfield has been engulfed in a mysterious blue fog. Experts warn of airborne diseases, melting vegetation, and unstable tectonic patterns. Semiotists now predict rapid mega-shifts if the fog persists another week."
The anchor's voice trembled.
"This is no longer local. It's national. Possibly global."
Mira's parents sat in silence, watching the screen.
Her mother clutched a photo.
Her father paced.
"She's in there," he whispered. "I know it."
Lily's mother hadn't seen the news yet.
She was still at work.
Still unaware.
Still safe—for now.
A government-issued search team rolled into the woods.
Gas masks. Shotguns. Flamethrowers.
They moved in formation, scanning the fog with thermal scopes.
The trees hissed.
The air buzzed.
And then—they saw it.
The mansion.
But it wasn't the same.
It had grown.
Roads now led to its gates.
A postbox stood crooked and rusted.
The treehouse was massive—almost alive.
The grass shimmered blue.
One soldier whispered, "This place wasn't here yesterday."
They stepped forward.
And the fog thickened.
To be continued…