According to the maps I’ve spent the last couple of days scouring, Avernia is bordered by the Primordial Forest on all but one side, where the entrance leads to town. The mountains stretch to the sky just beyond the trees, sealing the school off from civilization.
Even though it’s a short drive to the city limits, it feels like we’re all alone.
As I walk a worn dirt path through the tall trees, a gentle breeze grazes the leaves, making them rustle above my head. Despite the unease cramping my stomach, this stroll feels a lot different from the last time I was here.
I’m not sure what I’m hoping to find—maybe nothing. Maybe I’m trying to convince myself that this place is safe, and what happened eight years ago was just some fluke.
Until I get to the abandoned building and the half-burnt gazebo next to it. The structure is falling apart and should be condemned, but just beyond and visible through the rotted siding is the quarry. Walls and piles of rock stretch as far as I can see, eventually dropping into the ravine and landing at Lake Lerna below.
Legend says what goes into those black waters doesn’t come back out.
I know better though.
Sometimes they crawl out to haunt whoever’snear.
My feet move as if encouraged by invisible limbs propelling them forward, guiding me alongside the quarry to the base of the mountains. The lake is unsettled, its opaque waters rippling the closer I get.
The muscles in my stomach coil, and I reach up to smooth my fingers over my necklace, outlining the snake charm with my thumb.
Somewhere in the distance, a branch snaps, and I freeze. Fear roots me in place the same way it did eight years ago, and the urge to dive into the shadows pushes at my back.
It feels like a warning.
Energy lurks between the trees and bushes, slithering along the forest floor, waiting for an opportunity. I’m being watched. Preyed upon. I squint at the surrounding foliage, trying to tell myself no one else is out here at the moment.
The woods are silent beneath the sunset.
Somehow that’s worse.
An owl’s hoot echoes off the water, and I gulp audibly.
You’re imagining things, Elle. The forest isn’t going to hurt you.
As I come upon the embankment, my soles sink with each step I take, as if the lake has other ideas. When I glance down, I see hands reaching up, sliding over my boots and tugging—trying to consume me.
A pair of familiar eyes reflects on the water’s surface, and my mouth parts as fear flashes through me.
My throat collapses in on itself. I scratch at it the way you’d try to relieve a rash, my fingernails scraping the column until it feels raw. The bite of pain is what clears my head, though, and I release a long, shuddery breath.
It’s in the past, Elle. Everything is fine. This area is safe, and the fear is just in your head.
Manufactured by real events but made up nonetheless.
The mantra repeats as I scale the water’s edge, droplets spraying my boots as wind pushes waves at the shore.
Goose bumps snake their way over my skin. I turn from the lake at the same time a horrid scream pierces the air, coming from the exact place it did eight years ago.
Nausea rolls through me violently.
No.
Not again.
I spin toward the sound, terror rendering me immobile. Another scream echoes through the trees, and my petrification mounts.
“Shit.” I reach into my pocket with a shaky hand for my phone, checking the screen: 1 percent battery life and no service.
Weird, considering I charged it before I left.
