Morning came slower than usual, or maybe it just felt that way. The sunlight didn't stream in—it dripped, like molasses through the misty canopy of the forest. Everything had a stillness to it, like the world was holding its breath.
I sat on the porch steps of the cottage, staring at the trees. They looked normal. Ordinary. But I knew better now.
Behind me, the door creaked open, and Bobby stepped out with two steaming mugs of coffee. He handed me one silently.
"We need to split up," he said after a long sip.
I raised a brow. "Since when are you the reckless one?"
"I'm not. That's why Jacob's coming with me," he replied with a smirk. "Town. Locals. More information. We need to know if this place has been like this for centuries or if something triggered it."
I nodded. It made sense.
"And you?" he asked.
"I'll go with Ambrose. We'll head back into the forest. There's something about that hut… the one the guardian showed us."
Bobby hesitated, like he wanted to say more. But instead, he just nodded.
We packed lightly. Bobby and Jacob took one of the staff bikes, their laughter echoing faintly as they sped off toward town. Ambrose and I, on the other hand, started our hike back into the woods.
"You ever think about how we're basically one wrong step away from becoming a ghost story?" Ambrose asked, hopping over a root like it owed him money.
"All the time."
He smirked. "You know, for someone so serious, you're surprisingly okay with cosmic horror."
"It's not horror if we survive."
"Fair point. But if I vanish in a puff of fog, tell my mom I died doing what I loved—being nosy."
I laughed despite myself.
The forest was thicker today, as if it had grown overnight. We moved slower, careful not to lose our path. That's when I noticed it—beads. Small, shiny, scattered across the underbrush like breadcrumbs.
"Ambrose," I called. "Check this out."
He crouched beside me, picking one up. "Didn't we see these before?"
I nodded. "Last time. Before we found the hut."
"They're guiding us," he whispered. "Like something wants us to go back."
"Or wants to see what we'll do when we get there."
We followed the trail. It led us to the same clearing as before—the same warped trees, the same thick mist—but the hut… it was gone.
Ambrose blinked. "I swear it was here."
"Same tree, same markings," I muttered, pointing at the spiral etching I remembered from last time. "It has to be the same place."
"Maybe it phases in and out like some magical Airbnb."
As we stood there, debating the physics of interdimensional architecture, my phone buzzed. A message from Bobby:
> "Meet at the tea stall in 30. Got something."
"Change of plans," I told Ambrose. "Let's head to the village."
"Great. I'm starving. If reality's breaking apart, at least let me die on a full stomach."
By the time we arrived, the town's usual calmness was layered with a sort of hushed anxiety. The locals eyed us like we were out of place—more than usual.
We found Bobby and Jacob at the same tea stall where we'd spoken to the old lady earlier. They were sitting at the corner table, whispering over two cups of steaming chai.
"Look who's still alive," Jacob greeted as we approached.
Ambrose dropped into the seat beside him. "Just barely. If I had to guess, this forest is going to mess with our heads till one of us starts seeing squirrels in tuxedos."
I turned to Bobby. "What did you find?"
He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "We talked to some locals. At first, they just gave us vague warnings—don't go into the forest, respect the woods, that sort of thing. But then an old shopkeeper mentioned something... different."
Jacob picked up where Bobby left off. "She said people who spend enough time in the forest start seeing things. Not hallucinations—versions."
I frowned. "Versions?"
"Of themselves," Bobby said quietly. "Like echoes. She mentioned one man who came running into town, screaming about watching himself walk into the forest. They found no one."
Ambrose sat up straight, humor vanishing from his face. "Like... the guy split?"
Jacob nodded grimly. "Or the forest split him."
Bobby continued, "There's more. The lady at the shop said the forest is 'remembering.' That each visit, each intrusion, wakes it up more. Like it's watching us. Learning us."
"And she used the word 'us,'" Jacob added. "Not just humans. Us. Like others have been chosen before."
I swallowed hard. It was getting harder and harder to pretend this was just a weird vacation.
"The old woman at the tea stall said something else," Bobby added. "A traveler, years ago, who came looking for the forest's secrets. Disappeared. Decades later, he returned. Same face. Same age."
My skin prickled.
"That sounds like time dilation again," I whispered.
"Exactly," Bobby said. "And I think... if we stay too long, we might not age either. Or worse—we might age wrong. Forward, backward. Or not at all."
Ambrose whistled. "Okay, so basically: the forest is sentient, dimensional, and casually plays with time like it's Spotify."
"No wonder the old man said he was stuck," I muttered. "It's not just a loop—it's a trap."
We all fell silent.
Even Jacob had nothing left to argue.
Finally, I broke it. "We can't keep going in without a plan. We need answers. A way to map the changes. A way to track ourselves."
Bobby nodded. "Agreed. But there's one more thing."
He reached into his bag and pulled out a photograph. A grainy image, clearly decades old. Four young men standing near the edge of a forest. One of them... looked eerily familiar.
"That's the traveler," Bobby said. "The one who came back."
I leaned in, heart pounding.
It wasn't just the resemblance.
It was me.
Or someone who looked exactly like me.
Ambrose let out a slow breath. "Okay... now this is getting biblical."
"Either we're walking into someone else's past," Bobby said, "or someone else already walked into ours."
We stared at the photo like it might suddenly move or speak or scream.
I folded it carefully and slipped it into my jacket.
This forest… this place… it wasn't just bending time.
It was bending us.