The forest didn't feel like a place anymore—it felt like a trap.
Tall trees pressed in from every direction, their branches knotting together overhead like crooked fingers. The air was damp and heavy, thick with the smell of moss and rotting leaves. Every step the group took sank into the soil, boots squelching, patience thinning.
"I told you we should've turned back an hour ago," Mara snapped, stopping abruptly. "My phone's been dead since sunset."
"You said you knew a shortcut," Jace shot back, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. "Now we're walking in circles."
"We are not walking in circles," Lian insisted, though her voice wavered. She glanced around—every tree looked the same.
Endless. Watching.
No signal. No path. No sky—just darkness stitched together by moonlight.
A twig snapped somewhere behind them.
They all froze.
"Did you hear that?" Eli whispered.
Another sound followed—low, distant, rhythmic.
Clang… clang… clang.
Metal.
"That's not an animal," Mara said, her voice barely audible.
The sound came again, clearer now. Not threatening—almost… inviting.
Against better judgment, they followed it.
The trees thinned suddenly, as if the forest itself had decided to let them pass.
And there it stood.
A school.
Not ruins. Not abandoned.
A full, towering structure of stone and iron sat in the clearing, its windows dark, its walls etched with unfamiliar symbols. A rusted gate stretched across the front, bearing a faded sign:
WELCOME
No school name. No address.
"This… this isn't on any map," Jace muttered.
"Why would a school be out here?" Lian asked. "In the middle of nowhere?"
Before anyone could answer, the gate creaked.
From its shadow stepped an old man—thin, hunched, dressed in a long coat that looked far too formal for the forest. His eyes gleamed unnaturally bright beneath heavy lids, and a slow smile tugged at his lips.
"You look lost," he said softly.
The group instinctively drew closer together.
"This is private property," Eli said. "We're just—"
"—seeking shelter," the old man finished for him. "And perhaps… direction."
He rested one bony hand on the gate.
"Would you like to enroll?"
Silence swallowed them whole.
"Enroll?" Mara repeated. "In a school?"
"Yes," the old man replied calmly. "Students arrive unexpectedly all the time."
The forest behind them rustled—louder now. Closer.
Jace glanced back, then at the towering building ahead. "We can stay one night," he said quietly. "Leave in the morning."
One by one, they looked at each other.
Exhausted. Afraid. Hopeful.
They nodded.
The old man's smile widened as the gate swung open on its own.
"Excellent," he said. "Once you enter… there's no turning back."
They stepped inside.
The gate slammed shut.
And the forest fell silent.