[Josh – POV]
Josh didn't know how long he knelt before the flame. The cold of the earth had seeped into his bones, and the taste of history still lingered on his tongue—bitter, like old metal. He asked for eyes. Seven pairs of eyes stared back at him.
No one strange.
No one applauded.
But no one declared they were leaving.
That was enough.
Chloe moved first. Not with fatigue, but with the weariness of someone carrying something heavy for too many years.
"You passed," she said softly.
"But passing isn't the same as staying."
"Here, the price is paid every week."
Josh opened his mouth to reply, but it didn't come out. His throat still felt thick with the fog of the lighthouse.
"Come," she said, turning. "Before He notices we're standing still for too long."
"He?" Josh asked.
Chloe didn't answer. I just looked at the trees beyond the circle.
Josh's gaze wavered.
Nothing moves.
But the smell changed.
First, it was the smell of damp firewood.
Then, of burnt paper.
And underneath it all… rotten mint.
He had smelled it before—the night he saw the figure in the window.
"Is he near?" he whispered.
Chloe nodded, without taking her eyes off the forest.
"Whenever a story ends… He stays nearby."
"To see if it tasted good."
She turned to the others.
"Let's go. Now."
[Chloe – POV]
Chloe hated this moment. It's not a ritual. There's no story. But then. Because that's when the guilt returned. She still saw her sister's face—Lila—from the last night she told a story. Lila was 14 years old. She told about a mirror that showed who you would be if you had never been born.
She laughed as she finished.
She said it was just a joke.
But the flame didn't laugh.
That night, Lila disappeared.
I only left a dress by the river… and a note with a single sentence:
"The story swallowed me whole."
Chloe married the Circle the next day.
Not out of courage.
Out of desperation.
And now, looking at Josh—new, scared, still clean—I felt the familiar weight in my chest.
He doesn't know what he's starting.
But I can't say that.
I couldn't frighten him more than necessary.
Because too much fear… made the story fail.
She turned to the others.
—Sam, erase the trail.
—Maya, title note.
—Jake, watch your back.
—Lily, tell me if He's still near.
Short orders. Practical.
No mystery.
Just survival.
Lily closed her eyes.
She inhaled deeply.
"The smell is still here," she whispered. "Rotten mint… and something sweet."
"He liked Josh's story."
Chloe agreed.
"Then let's go before He wants an encore."
[Josh – POV]
They walked in single file, without speaking.
Josh was in the middle, between Sam and Lily. Sam carried a branch with dry leaves and dragged them along the ground, erasing the footprints.
Lily walked with clenched fists, her eyes half-open, as if she heard something the others couldn't.
"What do you feel?" Josh asked softly.
"The silence," she replied. "It's not normal silence."
"It's the kind that pulls sounds from your ears."
"Like when you take off your headphones and the world seems empty."
Josh had never thought about it.
But now he realized: the forest was very quiet.
No owls. No crickets.
Not even the rustling of leaves.
Only the sound of footsteps…
…and a faint, almost inaudible buzzing coming from inside his own head.
"Is it Him?" he asked.
"That's what He leaves behind," Maya said, without turning around. "The emptiness after the story."
Jake, in front, stopped suddenly.
"Someone's watching us."
Everyone froze.
Chloe raised her hand.
"It's not an adult," Lily said, her eyes still closed. "It's just… a curious look."
"A village child?" Owen asked.
"No," Chloe replied. "Nobody comes here."
"Unless they've already been called."
She looked at Josh.
"Did you talk to anyone about today?"
"No," Josh answered quickly.
"I didn't even think to talk to anyone."
Chloe studied his face. Then she nodded.
"Then it was just curiosity from the forest."
"Let's go. Quickly."
But Josh knew that wasn't it.
Because, for a second, between the trees, he saw a shapeless figure—as if the darkness had been cut into the form of a person.
And in the air…
the smell of rotten mint grew stronger.
[Chloe – POV]
Chloe hadn't told Josh that every time a new member joins, He tests the Circle. Because the presence of a stranger—someone unmarked—awakens the Storyteller's hunger. She'd seen it before.
In 2018. A boy from another school discovered the clearing. He told a ridiculous story about video game zombies. The flame went out. And the boy… was never seen whole again. Only parts of him appeared in the dreams of others.
She wouldn't let that happen again.
So, when they reached the edge of the forest, she stopped Josh.
"Listen," she said, holding his arm. "What you told us there… was good."
"But don't tell anyone. No one."
"Not even your parents. Not even your best friend, if you ever have one."
"If an adult hears… it's not just you who disappears."
"It's the whole town."
Josh swallowed hard.
"Why?"
" Because adults… they don't truly believe."
"And when they lie to themselves…" "…He turns them into empty stories."
"And empty stories… consume everything around them."
She let go of his arm.
"Saturday. 11:47."
" Don't be absent."
"And don't bring false fear."
" Because He knows the difference."
[Josh – POV]
At school the next day, everything seemed normal. But Josh noticed the differences. Jake laughed too loudly—as if he were stifling something.
Maya obsessively wrote in a black notebook, always looking at the clock tower. Sam asked questions about "initiation rituals" in history class, and the teacher laughed, but Chloe turned pale. Lily wore a wooden necklace—Josh now recognized it: it was made from a branch from the clearing. Owen avoided mirrors. Always.
And Chloe…
Chloe looked at the forest as if she were counting how many days were left until the next disaster.
At lunchtime, she sat next to Josh.
"Take this," she said, handing him a small notebook, covered in aged leather.
"Write down your dreams. Your ideas. Everything that comes to mind after midnight."
"One day, someone will need to read it."
"Why?"
"Because if something happens to me… someone needs to know how to keep the flame burning."
Josh frowned.
"Something's going to happen to you?"
Chloe looked away. Her eyes were tired.
Older than 17 years.
"I'm the leader," she said, as if that explained everything.
"That means that if someone has to pay the highest price…"
"…it'll be me."
Before Josh could answer, she stood up.
"Saturday."
"Don't fail."
And she left.
Josh opened the notebook.
On the first page, a single sentence, written in faded ink:
"Stories don't die. They just change owners."
[Chloe – POV]
That night, Chloe went to the clearing alone. The flame was low, but alive. She knelt and placed her hand on the cold earth.
"I know you're listening," she whispered. "Don't touch them."
"Take me, if you need to."
"But don't take them."
"Not yet."
The wind didn't answer.
But the smell returned.
Burnt paper. Rotten mint.
And, for a second… Lila's perfume.
Chloe closed her eyes.
"Please."
Nothing.
Only the buzzing inside her head.
The silence that pulled the sounds.
She stood up.
She knew He had heard.
But she didn't know if He had accepted.
On the walk back, she heard a whisper—not with her ears, but in her bones:
"He who speaks for all… pays for all."
Chloe clenched her fists.
"I know."
And she moved on.
Because stopping…
would be worse.
[Josh – POV]
On Friday, Josh dreamed of the lighthouse again. But this time, it wasn't Elias climbing the ladder. It was him. And at the top, there wasn't a mirror.
There were seven chairs around a blue flame.
And in one of them…
…was Chloe.
But with empty eyes.
And her mouth sewn shut with story thread.
He woke up sweating.
He looked in the mirror.
In his left iris, the Circle symbol was clearer.
And the flame…
…was flickering.
He touched his eye.
Icy.
On the window, condensation formed words:
TOMORROW.
BRING NO FEAR.
BRING TRUTH.
Josh didn't sleep the rest of the night.
Because he knew:
the Storyteller didn't want to. Stories.
She wanted souls who believed in them.
And he…
…was starting to believe too much.
[Chloe – POV ]
On Saturday, before sunset, Chloe went to the cemetery.
She stopped before a simple tombstone:
LILA HARTMAN
2004 – 2019 SHE TOLD A STORY TOO BEAUTIFUL
Chloe placed a dried flower—picked from the edge of the clearing.
—Today, it will be Ethan's turn—she whispered. —
—He will tell about the center of the stones.
—You know what that means.
The wind moved the leaves.
Almost like a sigh.
—I will protect them—said Chloe. —
—Until there is nothing left of me to protect.
She turned to leave.
But, on the way, she stopped.
Because, for the first time in years…
…she smelled fresh mint.
No Rotten.
Fresh.
As if something were being reborn.
Or preparing to eat.
Chloe didn't smile.
She just tightened the necklace she wore—made from a piece of Lila's shirt.
And she headed for the forest.
Because the Circle was calling.
And the Storyteller…
…was hungry.