Utill dawn

by Tempest_Star

Summary:

I want it to be know this is based on the horror game The Untill dawn. i haven't seen Aphmau in years, but i really love how this turned out. Ein is not a crazy asshole; he loves Zane and is a good guy. Okay? I'd love for you to give it a shot!

“It was a joke.” Sasha said “Like it was last time, right?” Dante stated, his glare fixed on his brother. “If you guys are that mad about it, we can re-enact it. I’m sure Zane would be a willing participant… just. like. last time.

-

“There’s something out there! A monster!”

“You kids never should’ve come here. I don’t take kindly to strangers crawling around my mountain—”

“Your mountain?” Garroth snapped, glaring. “My family owns it.”

“This mountain don’t belong to me. That’s true. But it don’t belong to the Ro’Meaves either. It belongs… to the Wendigo.”

-

It would be a long recovery for everyone, therapy included, but together everything would work out. The road ahead was slow and painful, but each new sunrise was another small step forward, another quiet victory. There would still be nights full of screaming and terror, shadows of the past clawing into their dreams—but every time, comfort was always waiting.

Notes:

okay i know i lot of people don't like this ship, but give it a shot! eins not a mulputive asshole! And Garroth has problems like needing meds and therapy. zane is over Gene. And Gene doesn't like Zane, he is obsessed and is lusting, he doesn't love him, and only finds joy in Zane's pain it's briefly implied.

This loosely follows the game until dawn, i would recommend watching someone play it, or play it yourself. it is an awesome game.

Zane is def OOC....i tried not to make him feminin or twinkish but i might have failed because that what i like reading sooo sorry...

this story is not about just one ship or pov; it has multiple POVs and two main story lines happening at once, just like in the game. This took forever to write so forgive me if some parts don't make complete sense.

Chapter 1: three years before

“Zane, come on! It was just a prank!”

But the words barely registered.

Zane burst through the front door, heart hammering, face flushed with humiliation. How could he have been so stupid? Believing Gene—again. His thoughts raced as fast as his feet, crunching through the snow-covered ground beneath him. The cold sliced through his thin long-sleeve shirt and jeans, but he didn’t care. No jacket. No shoes. Just panic, pain, and the bitter bite of winter.

Tears blurred his vision, slipping silently down his cheeks and soaking into his scarf. His breath came in ragged gasps, steaming in the night air. Behind him, he heard footsteps—someone chasing after him.

He didn’t slow down.

He didn’t want to be found.

But the forest opened into a clearing, and his legs finally gave out. He dropped to his knees, sobs breaking from his chest. He pressed his palms to his eyes, trying to shove away the voices rising in his mind—laughter, mockery, shame.

“Zane!” a voice called, closer now. “There you are!”

Zane flinched and curled in tighter, hugging his knees, hands over his ears. “Go away, Garroth,” he croaked, voice hoarse.

He felt a warm hand brush against his frozen fingers.

“Shit… you're freezing.” Garroth didn’t hesitate. He shrugged off his heavy coat and draped it over Zane’s trembling shoulders, gently pulling it snug. The warmth was immediate, and Zane slowly uncurled, blinking up at him with tear-streaked cheeks.

“Why am I so stupid?” he whispered, voice cracking under the weight of his pain.

Garroth’s heart squeezed.

“Oh, Zuzu…” he said softly, crouching beside him. “You’re not stupid. That shouldn’t have happened. None of it was okay.”

Zane looked down, lip quivering, then leaned against Garroth’s side, needing the comfort more than he wanted to admit.

“I don’t wanna go back in there,” he murmured, curling tighter into Garroth’s warmth. “Please don’t make me.”

“I won’t,” Garroth promised without hesitation. “That’s fair. I’ll text Laurence. He’ll get the others out of the cabin. We’ll go back once it’s quiet. Warm up. Watch that pony show you think I don’t know about.”

Zane let out a shaky exhale—something close to a laugh, barely there, but real.

“Thanks, Gar…”

Garroth smiled, holding him close.

“Always.”

 

Chapter 2: present day

Summary:

the beginning!!

(21:00)

The cold air bit softly at their cheeks as the last of the group arrived, boots crunching over snow-packed earth. The cabin looked just like they remembered it — big, familiar, and echoing with memories that none of them had spoken about in a long time.

Garroth stepped forward, a genuine smile on his face as he shook Aaron’s hand.
“I’m so glad you guys could make it. Really. It means a lot.”

Aphmau beamed beside him, her cheeks pink from the chill.
“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she said brightly.

“Yeah, man. It’s good to see you again.” Aaron fist-bumped Garroth warmly.

“Sorry we’re late,” Travis called as he and Dante made their way up the path. “We almost got lost on that twisty trail—again.”
Dante followed with a drink tray, holding two hot coffees and one pink, whipped-cream-covered monstrosity that sparkled with sprinkles. 

Garroth laughed,  “Ah, you're right on time, don't worry.”

From the porch, Laurence waved.
“Hey, guys!”
A chorus of greetings met him as Gene, Zenix, and Sasha approached from the woods behind them.

“HAYOH!” Sasha shouted cheerfully, throwing a peace sign.

Garroth stepped up onto the porch, clapping his hands together to gather attention.
“Alright! Looks like that’s everyone.” He cleared his throat, eyes scanning the familiar faces.
“First off, thank you all for being here. I know it’s been…well, it’s been a while. And I wish Vylad could be here too, but he’s in Hawaii being aggressively tan and sending me pictures just to rub it in.” Laughter bubbled through the group.
“But! That’s not gonna stop us from having a good time. So, let’s freakin’ party!”

The crowd whooped and cheered.

Garroth chuckled, gesturing toward the cabin.
“Zane and Ein are already inside finishing up the food, so don’t be strangers—head on in and warm up!”

A moment of quiet fell at the mention of Zane. The cheer faded just slightly, replaced by a subtle shift in the air — something unspoken hanging there. Three years was a long time, but not long enough to forget.

It was Travis who broke the silence first.

“Zane’s here? Hell yeah!” He slapped Garroth’s shoulder before barging through the door.
“ZUZU!!!” he yelled into the cabin.

A rag flew through the air, missing Travis’s head by inches.

“Don’t call me that!” Zane’s voice snapped — agitated, but with a thread of reluctant fondness in it.

Inside the large kitchen, Zane stood at the counter, arms crossed, wearing a pink apron absolutely coated in flour. His dark hair was pulled back, no mask  — his freckles visible, cheeks flushed from the heat of the oven. Beside him, Ein stirred a pot, headphones half-off one ear.

Travis clutched his chest theatrically, stumbling forward.
“Do you get prettier every time I see you?” he gasped, hand to forehead like he might swoon.

Dante burst out laughing, swooning beside him.
“Honestly, it’s rude at this point. We get it, you win.”

He set the drinks down on the counter and strode over to Zane, wrapping him in a hug before Travis joined in. Zane let out a sigh but didn’t move away, knocking his head lightly against theirs.

“Okay. Enough. Personal space.”

They laughed, refusing to budge for another second before finally pulling back.

“Oh!” Travis spun around. “I brought you a drink!” He handed over the pink abomination with pride.

Zane raised an eyebrow.
“You brought it?”

Dante shot Travis a sharp look.
“Uh-huh,” Zane said, catching the glance. He smiled slightly as he took a sip.
“Thanks, Dante.”

“Course,” Dante said quietly, leaning against the counter. “Thought you might need some cheer, you know… since…”
He didn’t say Gene’s name. He didn’t need to.

Zane’s eyes hardened just slightly.
“I’m fine.” His tone cooled, but he didn’t hand the drink back.

Dante nodded, backing off. “Alright, man.”

“You can have the extra coffee if you want,” he offered to Ein. “Travis finished his before we even hit the highway.”

Ein glanced up from the pot, chuckling. “Thanks. How was the drive?”

Dante groned, “Course man, the drive was a mess — Trav kept skipping my songs on the playlist and needing to pee every ten minutes. I’m amazed we made it on time.”

“That sounds about right.”

“YouTube’s still going strong?” Ein asked, trying for casual.

“Yeah,” Dante said with a grin. “The fans miss Zane, but they get it. He needed the break. Besides, they’ve shifted their thirst to Travis in the meantime.”

Zane chuckled quietly, checking the oven before pulling it open and carefully removing a pan. The warm scent of food filled the space.

“Alright,” he said. “Dinner’s almost done. Go catch up with the others — we’ve got this covered in here.”

Dante grabbed his coffee and gave Zane a quick nod before stepping into the living room, where voices and laughter were already building. He shoved Travis off the couch to claim a spot beside Aaron and Aphmau.

“Owie! Babeeeee, you hurt meee,” Travis whined, sprawled on the rug dramatically.

“Oh nooo,” Dante teased, rolling his eyes. “You poor thingggg.”

Laughter bubbled up around the room. For the first time in a long time, it almost felt normal.

 

 

Chapter 3: Zane POV

(22:13)

Dinner passed in a blur.

Zane had barely touched his food, and though he didn’t say much, the tension radiated off him in quiet waves. His eyes stayed down, shoulders tight, jaw clenched every time Gene opened his mouth. Ein, sitting nearby, hadn’t looked away from Gene once.

Gene, for his part, seemed to enjoy toeing the line — always skirting just on the edge of decency, throwing smirks and fake-laugh “jokes” across the table, always pointed but technically deniable.

Now they sat scattered around the living room, a mix of couch cushions and mismatched chairs, the soft crackle of the fire clashing with the rising voices.

And then it happened.

“Oh, come on,” Gene laughed bitterly, eyes flashing toward Zane. “I’m just saying, if that bitch—”

Ein stood up so fast his chair nearly flipped.

“Don’t you fucking call him that.” Ein growled His voice was low, sharp — no humor in it.

Gene smirked, lounging back casually like he hadn't just lit a match.

“Relax, I was joking—”

“Bullshit,” Ein snapped. “You’ve been at it all night. Everyone can see it.”

The room fell silent.

Gene raised his eyebrows, fake-innocent.
“Aw, look at you playing wolf in shining armor. How noble.”

Then, looking past Ein, he smirked at Zane.

“Still letting other people fight your battles, huh?”

Zane’s fingers dug into his sleeves, but he said nothing — just stared at the floor.

Ein stepped forward. “Say that again.”

“Why? Gonna throw another punch like last time?” Gene’s voice sharpened. “You think you’re scary, but you’re just loud. And pathetic.”

“Gene, shut up!” Aphmau shouted, standing now too.

“You don’t get to keep bringing up shit from three years ago like you didn’t try and destroy someone just for fun,” Dante added, voice colder than usual.

Gene’s smile faded for just a second.

“Oh, please, Zane survived. He’s fine. Look at him. Still weird and moody, just like always.”

Zane finally stood, slow and quiet. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes met Gene’s — and for the first time tonight, they were empty.

Ein turned toward Zane, voice gentler now.
“You okay?”

Zane nodded once, but it didn’t feel real.

Garroth stepped in then, crossing the room with authority, his voice level but final.

“That’s enough.”

Everyone turned to him.

“Zane. Ein.” His tone softened, but it left no room for argument.

“Take the keys and head to the other cabin. It’s stocked, heated, and clean. Just… take the night. Get some air. I should’ve known this would happen… i just wanted it to be the way it was before” he muttered the end

Ein opened his mouth to argue, but Zane was already moving toward the door. Putting on his shoes and jacket.

“C’mon,” he murmured, brushing past Gene without so much as a glance.

Ein followed him, throwing one last look over his shoulder — a warning.

The door shut behind them.

The silence that followed felt heavier than anything said.

They stood on the front porch, the cold biting at their faces, quiet settling between them as the main cabin door shut behind them.

Zane sighed, patting his pockets.
“Shit,” he muttered.

“What now?” Ein asked, his voice still edged from the argument.

“We forgot the keys.”

Just then, the door creaked open behind them.

Travis poked his head out, grinning like a gremlin, keys swinging on one finger.
“Forget something, pornstars?”

He tossed the keys toward Zane, who caught them with a small, surprised smile. Some of the tension in his chest loosened.

“Pornstars? Really?” Zane raised a brow, laughing softly.

Travis winked.
“Come on. You two? Alone in a cabin? I'd pay to see that.” His voice dipped into a mock-sultry tone before he burst out laughing and ducked back inside.

Zane shook his head, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. He turned to Ein, whose posture was still stiff, tail flicking, ears twitching slightly. But some of the tension had drained from him too.

Zane smirked, stepping closer. He reached up to gently stroke one of Ein’s ears.

“...Thanks,” he murmured, wrapping his arms loosely around Ein’s neck.

Ein leaned into it with a familiar smirk.
“What would you do without your guard dog, hmm?”
He said it in that tone — the teasing one Zane only half-hated. The one Ein used when he wanted to get on his nerves.

Zane opened his mouth to respond, but then—
A scream ripped through the mountains.

High. Sharp. Distant… but not that distant.

They both froze, heads snapping toward the trees.

Zane looked uneasy.
“That… was just an animal, right?”

Ein was already stepping off the porch.
“Let’s get moving.”
He unwrapped his arms from Zane’s waist and reached for his hand. Zane quickly turned on the flashlight on his phone and followed him.

Their boots crunched through the snow — Zane’s black trailing behind Ein’s bright blue — as they made their way down the dark path. The silence between them now held tension again, but a different kind. Alert. On edge.

They reached the gate leading to the second cabin and groaned.

“Damn it,” Zane muttered. “Generator’s off.”

They veered off the path, heading for the old generator shed. The snow was deeper here, and the trees loomed closer.

Zane flicked the switch. The hum of the machine kicked in.

But a shiver crept up his spine. He glanced behind them, flashlight beam swinging.

Nothing.

Still, the sensation of being watched was unmistakable.

“Alright. Gate should be open now,” Zane said.

Ein gave him a playful smirk.
“Look at you. So handy.”

Zane rolled his eyes, brushing past him with a quiet laugh.
“I know~.”

They were joking again as they made their way back… until they stopped dead in their tracks.

A huge tree had fallen across the path.

“What the hell?” Zane frowned, stepping closer. “That wasn’t here earlier.”

Ein’s ears went rigid. He sniffed the air, eyes narrowing.
“Something’s off. This tree smells weird.”

Zane smirked.
“What, already marked? Gross.”

“Oh, hardy-har,” Ein said dryly. He glanced around again, still on edge.

“Whatever. I’m over it. I’ll text Garroth about it once we’re inside,” Zane said, starting to climb the tree.

“I don’t know, Zane… I had plans for when we got there~” Ein teased, voice low and suggestive.

But then he froze.

Movement. Just behind a tree.

“Huh—”

SPLAT.

A snowball nailed him in the face.

Zane snorted loudly, nearly doubling over with laughter.

Ein sputtered, quickly crouching to scoop snow into his hands, forming a fast, icy retaliation.
“Alright, smartass—Zane?”

He stood up. Looked around.

Zane was gone.

“Zane?”

Another scream tore through the woods — not like the one from earlier. This one was closer. And he knew that voice.

“ZANE!”

Ein didn’t hesitate. He leapt over the fallen tree, his boots pounding into the snow as he chased Zane’s footprints. His nose filled with familiar scents: cold air, pine… and Zane’s ever-present vanilla cupcake-scent.

“Zane!?”

He broke into a clearing—

“BOO!”

Ein yelped, nearly throwing a punch on instinct. His fangs bared, ears flat, hands up defensively.

“Zane?” Ein asked, one ear tilted. 

Zane doubled over with laughter,  putting his hands on his fur-lined tights before, wheezing, barely able to stay standing.

“I finally got you!”

Ein stared for a beat, heart racing in his chest.

Then he exhaled, ears slowly rising again, a smile tugging at his mouth.

“Nuh uh. I totally wasn’t scared.”
He huffed, crossing his arms.

Zane wiped a tear from his eye, still grinning.
“Please. You were terrified.”

Ein rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face.
“Yeah, yeah. Next time, you’re getting the snowball to the face.”

Ein let out a tired huff as they started the quiet walk back toward the trail. The snow crunched beneath their boots, the world hushed under the thick blanket of white. 

Something caught his eye—a cabin, old and leaning, hidden in shadow right off the trail..

“What’s that?” he asked, slowing his steps and nodding toward it.

Zane raised a brow.

“An old cabin?” he replied sarcastically.

“I meant—what was it?” Ein clarified, veering off the trail toward it.

Zane sighed, trailing behind him.

“Well, it was a new cabin.”

“Zane.” Ein gave him a look.

Zane rolled his eyes, shoving his gloved hands into his coat pockets.

“Fine, fine. It was one of my father's. I don’t know what he actually did with them—he’s got, like, three hidden in these woods. Used to say they were for ‘research.’ Whatever that means…”

The cabin loomed closer—rotting wood, half-collapsed roof, windows covered in frost and grime. A poster flapped against one wall.

“Wanna check it out?” Ein asked, already walking toward it.

Zane stopped short.

“Honestly, Ein? Not really. I’m freezing, and I just want to go warm up with my boyfriend.” He shivered.

Ein ignored the protest, brushing the snow off the poster.

“Did you know two people went missing out here?” he said quietly.

Zane’s expression changed.

“What? No. Who?” He moved to Ein’s side, standing on his tiptoes to peek over his shoulder.

“Hannah and Beth Washington,” Ein read from the faded poster.

Zane’s stomach dropped.

“That’s… creepy. Great. That’s exactly what I needed to hear. Even more reason we should head back.”

“Yeah, alright—just one sec,” Ein said, pushing through the half-hinged door.

Inside, the cabin was cold, damp, and smelled of decay. A desk stood crooked in the corner, covered in dust and cobwebs. Ein stepped cautiously, brushing away the thick webbing to peek at a few yellowed papers.

He found a mask resting on the desk—strange, cracked, its eye holes hollow and haunting.

He opened a folder nearby. The papers inside detailed some kind of psychiatric facility. Mentions of patient transfers. Shock therapy. A location: just across the hill.

Unease stirred in his gut. He shut it quickly.

Ein grabbed the mask and walked back out into the cold.

“Hey, look at this,” he said, holding up the mask.

Zane blinked, recoiling slightly.

“Ew.”

Ein smirked.

“Weird, right?” He tossed the mask toward the porch and turned back to the path.

“Come on. Let’s get you warmed up.” They hadn’t walked far when Ein stopped.

Something moved.

In a heartbeat, his arm shot out, pulling Zane behind him protectively.

“Ein?” Zane’s voice was soft, his breath visible in the cold as he pressed against Ein’s jacket—the black and blue fabric catching the moonlight, silver piercings on the hood gleaming like ice.

“Shh.”

Ein’s eyes locked on the nearby brush.

The branches rustled—and a deer suddenly leapt out, bounding past them.

Ein let out a sigh, dropping his tense shoulders.

“Just a deer…Man, it’s been a long night.”

Zane chuckled, amusement playing on his face. His snake bites glinted.

Ein looked at him, momentarily entranced. He really was beautiful. So damn lucky…

Ein was just about to say something—

When a scream ripped through the trees.

High-pitched. Not animal. Not human. Something in between.

Ein’s entire body froze. His nose twitched.

Blood.

That thick, metallic scent hit hard and fast.

“What the hell…” he muttered, glancing around sharply.

Zane clung to his arm tighter as they started forward again, more cautious.

Then they saw it.

The deer.

It lay slumped over a fallen log—except now, its neck was torn open. Deep, jagged cuts, blood pouring into the snow.

Zane gasped.

“Oh my god!” He raised his gloved hands to his mouth, eyes wide and horrified.

“Shit…” Ein approached, eyeing the carcass. “That happened in seconds. What the hell could do that?”

Zane turned to him, voice trembling.
“What do we do?”

Ein’s jaw tightened.
“Only thing we can do. Put it out of its misery.” His voice softened.
“Don’t look, okay? Cover your ears.”

Zane swallowed hard and did as told—shutting his eyes tight, hands over his ears, body trembling.

Ein stepped toward the deer.

He grabs each of his antlers before pulling harshly, ripping the head clean off.

Wincing at the pained noise and the feeling of blood spray on him.

A moment later, he stepped back and returned to Zane, gently tapping his shoulder.

Zane opened his eyes—then froze, horror growing again as he saw the blood on Ein’s gloves and coat.

Tears welled in his eyes at the sight of the poor creature.

Ein wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close.

“I know,” he whispered. “But it’s not in pain now.”

Then—a sudden noise.

A dragging sound.

Both their eyes snapped back to the deer.

Its headless body was being pulled into the bushes.

Dragged. Fast.

“Holy SHIT!” Ein shouted, stumbling back.

“What the fuck?!” Zane gasped, backing up.

That smell hit Ein again—that unnatural, thick scent. Not just blood. Something else.

Something wrong.

He grabbed Zane’s hand.
“Come on. We’re leaving—NOW.”

They ran.

Snow kicked up around their boots as they bolted down the trail, the trees looming on either side, shadows dancing just out of reach.

The cabin came into view like a beacon.

Zane pulled the key from his pocket, hands shaking as a sound echoed behind them—branches cracking, something moving just out of sight.

Click.
He got the key in on the first try.

He slammed the door open, yanked Ein inside, and shut it behind them, locking it fast.

The moment the lock clicked, they both breathed out—Zane letting out a shaky, slightly manic laugh.

“What the hell was that?!” he asked, voice high with adrenaline.

Ein chuckled breathlessly, rubbing a hand over his face.
“I don’t know. But— let’s call it a bear.”

“Yeah. Totally. Just a bear…” Zane muttered, walking to the couch. But he paused.
“It’s freezing in here too.”

Ein’s ears perked up.

He moved to the windows, pulling the blinds down as he passed and peering through the glass just to be sure.

“There’s a wood heater. Gimme a sec—I’ll get it going.”

He moved through the house methodically, checking each room for signs of life or movement. Nothing. Empty. Safe.

He paused at the bathroom—small, clean, and oddly cozy. A curtain decorated with black, blonde, and brown cartoon cats hung over the shower.

Ein smiled. ‘Reminds me of the Ro’Meave brothers…’

He pulled the curtain back—

It fell on him.

“GAH—damn it—”
He flailed briefly, catching it and tossing it aside.

‘Seriously, what did you think was behind it, Wolfie?’ he scolded himself.

“You okay?!” Zane called from the other room.

“Yeah! Don't worry!”

He moved on, finding a fuse box in the hallway. With a quick flick, the lights buzzed to life.

“That’s better,” he sighed.

Back in the living room, he opened the wood stove and loaded in some dry logs.

He patted his pockets.
“Damn. You got a lighter?”

Zane nodded and pulled out a strawberry-shaped lighter from his coat pocket, handing it over.

Ein smiled.
“You still have this?”

Zane glanced away, blushing.
“Yeah…”

Ein grinned, lighting the wood.
“It’s cute.”

He closed the heater, warmth beginning to spread through the space. He put the lighter into his pocket.

Zane exhaled softly, eyes drifting shut for a moment as he soaked in the rising heat.

Ein knelt down, starting to unlace Zane’s boots.

“I had it!” Zane protested, embarrassed.

“I know.” Ein smirked, taking off his own boots too.

He lined them both near the door and hung his jacket on the wall hook.

He glanced out the door window—and his ears slowly drew back.

Something was still out there, he could feel it. 

Ein closed the small curtain, casting the room in a warmer dim light before making his way back toward the fire. Zane had moved closer in his absence, sitting on the floor beside the heater with his legs folded up beneath him. His gloves were off now, pale fingers stretched toward the flames, the pink, chipped nail polish catching the firelight like little rose-gold flecks.

Ein watched him for a moment, quietly admiring the way the glow played off Zane’s features—the softness in his profile, the calm in his posture, the faint blush still painted across his cheeks from the cold. He walked over and sank down beside him, resting his weight lazily on one hand.

“Hey, cupcake~” Ein teased, smirking as he leaned slightly toward him.

Zane glanced over, the side of his mouth tugging into a crooked little smile. “Hey yourself, wolfie~” he said, his voice soft and warm but tinged with that ever-present nervous edge he could never quite shake.

Ein reached out and gently brushed a lock of Zane’s hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ear with care. The motion revealed Zane’s normally covered eye—a milky white orb, clouded and blind, surrounded by faint scars that curled like fading spiderwebs across the skin.

Immediately, Zane turned his face away, his hand twitching toward his hair like he wanted to hide again. “Sorry,” he muttered, voice quiet

Ein’s expression softened. He reached out again, more purposefully this time, and took Zane’s face in his hands—thumb brushing just under his jaw, coaxing him to meet his gaze.

“Zane,” he said gently, “look at me.”

Reluctantly, Zane did. His mismatched eyes—one sharp and clear, the other distant and clouded—searched Ein’s face, waiting for something he’d always expected: disgust, pity, rejection.

Instead, Ein smiled.

“That doesn’t matter to me,” he said, thumb brushing softly against Zane’s cheek. “You’re still ridiculously hot.”

Zane let out a breath that was almost a laugh, but it caught in his throat and stuck somewhere behind his heart. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s true,” Ein said simply. “I mean—have you seen yourself? You could set off fire alarms just walking into a room.”

Zane snorted, shaking his head. “You’ve been hanging out with travis too much.”

“maybe”

There was a long pause. Zane stared down at the space between them, his fingers curling in his lap. When he finally spoke again, his voice was smaller.

“It’s not just the eye,” he admitted. “It’s… all of it. The scars, the stares. People don’t say anything to my face, but I see it. They flinch, or they look away too fast. I just—I hate feeling like some kind of... freak.”

Ein didn’t flinch. He didn’t look away.

“You’re not a freak,” he said firmly. “You’re brave. You’re strong. And everything you’ve been through, everything you carry… it makes you real. Makes you you. And I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

Zane bit his lip. His eyes were starting to shimmer now, not from the fire, but from the way his walls were quietly cracking.

“You mean that?” he whispered.

Ein leaned in and pressed a kiss just above the scarred side of his face, lingering there a second longer than necessary.

“I mean every damn word,” he whispered back.

Zane exhaled, trembling slightly—not from the cold, but from the warmth that spread through him, sinking deeper than the fire ever could. He leaned in, kissing Ein softly.

Ein’s hands moved instinctively—one sliding around Zane’s waist, fingers slipping beneath the hem of his jacket to graze warm skin, the other finding the zipper. Zane gave a small nod.

Ein’s lips curved into a soft smile. “Thank you, baby,” he murmured, breaking the kiss just long enough to tug the zipper down and slide the jacket from Zane’s shoulders. The fabric fell away, revealing a fitted black long-sleeve shirt. He tossed the jacket onto the couch without looking, immediately leaning back in to capture Zane’s lips again. His hands roamed along Zane’s sides, tracing the shape of his ribs—

The sharp crash of shattering glass split the moment in two.

Both froze, heads snapping toward the kitchen. A second later, the shrill sound of a phone ringing filled the cabin.

Ein was on his feet first, his body shifting protectively in front of Zane. “Stay here,” he ordered, voice low but firm. He moved toward the kitchen with slow, measured steps, ears angled back and a low growl starting in his throat.

He swept his gaze over the kitchen, then down the hallway, flicking on lights as he went. He checked the bedroom first—empty—before heading into the bathroom.

The sight stopped him cold.

The small bathroom window was shattered, jagged glass scattered across the floor. In the middle of the shards lay Zane’s phone, screen glowing with Garroth’s picture as it rang. The glass was spiderwebbed, almost completely broken. It rang one last time before cutting off.

“Ein! What was it?”

Zane’s voice came from behind him. Ein turned slightly, seeing him shuffle into the doorway.

“Your phone.”

Zane frowned, stepping closer. “What? How is that possible?” He brushed past Ein and crouched to pick it up, wincing as shards bit into his palm.

“I’m not sure. It came through the window,” Ein said, looking out into the darkness beyond. Something was wrong. He could feel it.

“Maybe I should get you back to the others…” he started, his mind already running through possibilities.

Zane crossed his arms, forcing a smirk. “Oh, come on. It’s probably just Gene and his band of assholes. Let’s not let this ruin our night.”

Ein placed his hand gently against Zane’s chest, feeling his heartbeat. “You’re probably right… fuck, that guy’s an asshole.” The memory of earlier incidents burned fresh in his mind.

“Ein. It’s fine, I’m used to it,” Zane said quietly. “I’ll buy a new phone tomorrow, okay?”

“You shouldn’t be used to it!” The words came out harsher than Ein intended, his voice snapping like a whip.

Zane flinched, eyes widening.

Ein’s ears flattened immediately, his tail going still. “I’m sorry, cupcake,” he said softly.

“It’s fine,” Zane assured, brushing it off. “I’m sure they’re gone by now. Come on, let’s go watch a movie or something.” He walked past, tossing the broken phone into the trash.

“I’ll be there in a sec,” Ein called after him.

Zane wandered back into the living room, unlocking the front door and stepping outside. “Gene! I know you’re out here! What do you want?!” His voice echoed into the night. No answer came, just the whisper of wind through the trees. “Well, for your information, Me and Ein are gonna fuck! So stick around if you want!” Huffing, he stomped back inside, slamming the door behind him.

Ein emerged from the hallway, brow raised. “Seems like you showed him, huh?”

Zane smirked faintly. “Shut up.”

The words were barely out when the glass window in the door shattered violently.

A pale hand shot through the jagged opening and clamped around Zane’s head.

“Ein!” Zane shouted, his voice breaking in pain as the hand yanked him toward the splintered frame. The glass tore into his skin, warm blood splattering across the shards.

Ein lunged forward, but the creature on the other side was faster. It dragged Zane through the narrow gap, his cry of pain cut short as he was pulled into the dark.

“ZANE!” Ein’s roar rattled the cabin walls.

The sharp, metallic scent of blood flooded his senses—thick, fresh, and far too much. It dripped down the door, pooled on the floor, and gleamed wetly on the broken glass.

Chapter 4: back at the main cabin

(22:28) 

“I can’t believe you, Gene,” Aphmau said, her voice low but sharp, disbelief twisting into something hotter—anger bubbling in her stomach like boiling water.

Gene only laughed, leaning back against the wall. “It was a joke.”

Aaron’s chair scraped against the floor as he stood. 

“Like it was last time, right?” Dante stated, his glare fixed on his brother.

Sasha let out a scoff, rolling her eyes. “If you guys are that mad about it, we can re-enact it. I’m sure Zane would be a willing participant… just. like. last time.” Her words dripped with mockery, each pause like a twist of the knife.

From the couch, Travis lifted his head from Dante's lap, jaw tightening. “What did Zane ever do to you, anyway?”

Gene’s smirk widened. “Uh, started existing?” He burst out laughing again, unbothered.

Zenix was smiling too, but he bit the inside of his cheek, tasting faint copper. What did Zane ever do to them? The thought gnawed at him.

“Whatever,” Aphmau muttered, pushing back from the table. “I’m gonna take a bath.” Her footsteps pounded against the stairs, each one heavier than the last.

Garroth stayed silent, leaning against the kitchen wall just out of sight. His hands were balled into fists so tight his nails dug half-moons into his palms.

“Whatever, man,” Gene said with a lazy shrug.

“How about we move past this and just play a game or something?” Laurence offered from his spot on the couch, trying to slice the tension in the room.

“Laurence is right,” Gene said, scanning the space as if nothing had happened. “Garroth, you still got that Ouija board?”

But his smirk faltered slightly when he noticed Garroth was gone.

“The attic,” Garroth’s voice came from behind them, calm but unreadable. He stepped back into the doorway with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Laurence, from across the room, could tell—he’d heard everything.

“Did I miss anything?” Garroth asked.

“Nope,” Zenix said quickly, moving toward the stairs. Gene and Sasha trailed after him until Zenix paused on the second step. “Where’s the attic?”

“I’ll show you,” Garroth replied, his voice smooth but with an edge that made the air feel heavier.

The three of them ascended the grand staircase, their footsteps echoing in the tense silence.

Back in the living room, Travis let out a long exhale. “That went well, huh?” His attempt at humor fell flat.

“Dude…” Dante muttered, nudging his shoulder.

“I’m gonna unpack our stuff,” Aaron said, grabbing their suitcases and disappearing toward the guest room he’d be sharing with Aphmau for the next two days.

From upstairs, Aphmau’s voice rang out. “Garroth! Is the hot water off?”

“He’s in the attic!” Laurence called back. “But it might have turned off! I’ll check—it’s in the basement!”

“Oh! I’ll come with you!” Aphmau replied, her footsteps hurrying down the hall before she appeared at the top of the stairs again. She was still dressed in her blue jeans and signature purple hoodie, her purple cat socks slipping slightly on the polished wood steps as she descended.

“Sounds good,” Laurence said, grabbing his shoes and lacing them quickly.

Aphmau did the same, tugging hers on.

“You guys cool here?” Laurence asked.

Dante nodded silently.

“All good, bro,” Travis said with a thumbs-up, though his eyes kept flicking toward the staircase where Gene and the others had vanished.

Laurence gave a nod and motioned for Aphmau to follow him down the hall. He stopped at a plain wooden door, twisted the handle, and opened it to reveal a narrow set of cement stairs dropping into the basement.

The air that drifted up was cooler, still, and smelled faintly of dust and old stone.

They stepped down slowly.

“Careful—part of the stairs are broken,” Laurence warned suddenly, throwing an arm out in front of her.

Aphmau halted, looking down at the jagged, crumbled edge of a step. “Oh wow. I wonder if Garroth knows. Thanks for the heads-up.” She kept her steps measured now, her socks scuffing softly on the concrete.

“Not sure,” Laurence said, pulling out his phone and flicking on the flashlight. The beam sliced through the dark stairwell, making the shadows shift like they didn’t want to be seen.

They reached the bottom and began walking past stacks of boxes, their surfaces coated in dust. A toppled pair of roller skates rested against the wall, a soccer ball sat deflated near an old coat rack, and a blanket hung in the corner like it might be covering… something.

At the far wall, the old boiler loomed. Laurence crouched and popped open a metal panel, the hinges creaking.

Aphmau’s eyes wandered until she spotted a baseball bat leaning against a crate. She picked it up, giving it a little twirl. “Garroth play?”

“Oh yeah. For years,” Laurence said, fiddling with the switches. “Then I wanted to play soccer, so he swapped with me.” He held out a hand. “Hey, can you hold the light for me?”

She set the bat down and took his phone, angling the beam toward his hands.

For a few moments, nothing moved except dust drifting lazily in the light.

Then—

BANG.

Aphmau jumped. “Uh… is that normal?”

Laurence’s shoulders tensed. “…Yeah. Totally,” he said, though it didn’t sound convincing.

The bang came again—closer, sharper.

Aphmau gripped his arm. “Probably just the house settling?” he tried again, his voice going up at the end like he wasn’t sure himself.

“Are you asking?” she said, forcing a shaky laugh.

“Telling. Definitely telling,” he replied quickly, straightening up and closing the panel.

The silence stretched for a second—

Then two cloaked figures in eerie, expressionless masks lunged into the flashlight’s beam.

“Ruuun~” a deep, almost cartoonishly drawn-out voice said.

Aphmau and Laurence screamed, bolting for the stairs. They scrambled upward, but when they reached the top, the door wouldn’t budge.

It was locked.

Heavy footsteps thundered up after them.

“AARON!” Aphmau shouted, pounding on the door.

“GARROTH!” Laurence yelled, slamming his fists against the wood.

He risked a glance over his shoulder—

The masked figures were almost at the landing, closing the distance with alarming speed.

They stopped at the top of the stairs, both cloaked figures doubled over in laughter.

“H–Huh?” Aphmau stammered, still pressed against the locked door, her heart hammering.

The figures yanked off their masks.

“Dante!? Travis!?” Laurence’s eyes widened. “What the hell, man!?”

Travis clutched Dante’s shoulder to keep from collapsing, tears of laughter threatening to spill. “You— you should’ve seen your faces!” he wheezed.

“Man, you guys almost pissed your pants!” Dante added between bursts of laughter.

Laurence snorted before doubling over as a bubble of laughter escaped. “Okay, okay… that was actually hilarious.”

Aphmau whirled on him, scandalized. “Laurence! Did you know?!” she whined.

He shook his head quickly, still grinning. “No! But I wish I had—oh, man, that was good.”

“Hell yeah, man!” Travis said, raising a hand for a high-five. Laurence slapped it without hesitation.

Dante, still giggling, dangled a set of keys in the air. “Come on,” he said, unlocking the door with a dramatic flourish.

The group walked back into the living room just as Aaron came rushing down the stairs, eyes scanning frantically.

“Aph! Are you okay?” he asked, stepping toward her.

Aphmau sighed, still catching her breath. “Yeah, I’m fine. Now I really need that bath,” she muttered, heading for the staircase.

Aaron watched her go, brow furrowed before looking at Dante and Travis. “Uh… what are you wearing?”

The two shared a smug glance.

“I think I found my new calling,” Dante said solemnly, pressing his palms together in mock prayer—before breaking into a grin.

“Uh… okay?” Aaron replied, still baffled.

“You’d have had to be there, man,” Laurence said with a sigh, patting him on the back.

 

—-------- 

 

Garroth brought down the Ouija board.

“Here it is!” he said, forcing a smile.

“Thanks,” Gene replied, voice dripping with sarcasm as he snatched it from Garroth’s hands.

“You wanna join us?” Zenix asked.

“Nah, you guys go ahead. I gotta do something first.”

Zenix nodded and followed Gene and Sasha toward the hallway. “Your loss,” Sasha said, tossing a wave over her shoulder as they disappeared into the room on the left.

Garroth sighed, pulling his phone from his pocket. He turned it on.
22:58. Zero new text messages.

Zane was supposed to text him once he’d made it. A dull, uneasy weight settled in Garroth’s chest. He opened his contacts, thumb hovering before pressing Zane’s name.

It rang. And rang. And rang.

Then: Please leave a voice message after the beep.

Garroth swallowed. “Hey, Zuzu… I’m sure you’re busy, but when you hear this, please let me know you’re okay, alright? I… I love you.”

Chapter 5: The chase begins

(23:02) (Ein POV)

 

"ZANE!"

Ein’s roar rattled the cabin walls, his voice breaking through the storm outside.
The sharp, metallic tang of blood slammed into his senses—thick, fresh, and far too much. It was everywhere. It streaked down the shattered door, pooled across the wooden floor, and glistened in jagged shards of glass like liquid rubies.

He threw the door open and plunged into the snow, feet crunching hard against the frozen ground. A crimson trail cut through the white—Zane’s blood.

God—no. His stomach lurched. The stench of it clung to the air, impossible to ignore.

He ran. Hard. Branches clawed at him as he vaulted fallen logs, lungs burning, following the glistening trail through the moonlit forest. It led him to a river.

He didn’t slow. His foot hit the icy edge, splashing water up his leg as he launched himself across.

“ZANE!” he bellowed into the night.

The trail split ahead—blood smears veering right. Ein followed without hesitation, but the scent grew fouler. Rotted flesh. Metal. Death.

He came to a cliff and froze, hearing a faint whimper. Leaning over, he spotted Zane crawling through the snow.

“Zane!” Ein shouted, but before he could reach him, something lunged from the dark, snatching Zane’s leg and dragging him backward.

Shit, shit, shit!

Ein vaulted off the cliff, snagging a tree branch mid-fall before dropping hard to the ground. He tore after the creature, ducking under low-hanging limbs, vaulting rocks, barely catching his footing on the other side. Another steep drop came into view—he slid down, boots hitting a creaking wooden platform.

A scream split the air—Zane’s scream. Ein’s head snapped up.

He jumped from the platform, sprinting toward the sound. Ahead, a shadowed structure loomed. As he neared, the door slammed shut.

“EIN! HELP ME! HELP!” Zane’s voice was frantic, cracking with fear.

“I’M COMING!” Ein roared, charging forward. The door gave way under his weight, splintering open.

He scanned the dim interior, heart pounding, until his gaze caught an elevator sign pointing toward a set of stairs. He bolted down them two at a time.

The stairs ended at a mine entrance yawning open, its wooden supports warped and splintered with age. A faded KEEP OUT sign swayed gently in the draft.

He darted inside, his night vision slicing through the suffocating black.

“E–IN!” Zane’s voice ripped through the dark, raw and jagged with pain.

“I’M COMING, ZANE!” Ein shouted, the words echoing back at him in the stale air.

The mine reeked of the creature—so much so, he couldn’t pinpoint Zane’s scent anymore. The air was thick, heavy, suffocating. His own heartbeat roared in his ears.

He sprinted right—dead end. A desk sagged under layers of dust and broken beams. On it, a map of the mine, smeared with red ink: DANGER scrawled across nearly every section.

If he was right, he was in the east wing. The only way forward was through the central shaft. He committed the layout to memory—those branching paths could trap him if he wasn’t careful.

He doubled back, feet pounding against ancient stone.

Then he saw it.

An old, rusted mine elevator in the center corridor—and sprawled across it, lying on his side, was Zane. His shirt was shredded by deep claw marks, blood oozing in rivulets down his pale skin.

“Zane! Are you ok?!” Ein rushed forward, eyes darting into the shadows for movement. Nothing—just rust, loose bolts, and that suffocating stench.

He reached for Zane—

The elevator groaned.

“h-help”

Before Ein could grab him, it dropped.

“NO—!”

Zane’s scream ripped through the shaft, ending in a sickening, metallic crash below. Ein looked over the edge, stomach dropping.

Blood pooled across the elevator’s floor. Zane’s head lolled back, his collarbone twisted at an unnatural angle. His chest was barely moving.

“NO!” Ein’s voice cracked. His instincts screamed to get down there, to do something—

But then, movement.

A person emerged from the dark.

Ein’s fangs bared, a growl building deep in his chest. His muscles coiled and he took off after it, every thought consumed by rage, by the need to tear it apart for what it had done to his mate.

He didn’t notice.

Didn’t hear.

Didn’t feel—

The faint, slow heartbeat still echoes from the bottom of the shaft.

Chapter 6: main cabin

(23:10) 

 

Sasha set the Ouija board in the center of the library’s lone table, a few candles flickering weakly around it. Shadows crawled up the walls, stretching between the shelves.

“Alright… you guys ready?” she asked, smiling.

“Yep,” Zenix said.

“Get on with it,” Gene muttered, his scowl aimed at the board.

“Okay, okay,” she giggled. “Um… hello? Anyone there? Abracadabra?”

They each rested a single finger on the planchette.

“Sash,” Zenix said, bumping her elbow but grinning.

“Fineee. Is anyone there?”

The planchette slid to YES.

“Are you moving that?!” Zenix asked with a laugh.

Sasha shook her head. “Gene?”

Gene smirked but answered, “Nope.”

“Ask something else! Come on!” Zenix urged.

“Alright… who are you?” Sasha asked.

The planchette scraped across the board: B-E-T-H.

“So your name’s Beth… ew,” Sasha said, wrinkling her nose.

They all laughed.

“Okay, Beth. What happened to you?”

F-E-L-L

“You fell… what, off the stairs?” Zenix joked, still laughing.

The planchette jerked, then moved again: H-E-L-P D-A-N-G-E-R.

“Okay, we’ll watch our step,” Sasha said sarcastically.

The planchette vibrated beneath their fingertips—then shot off the board, clattering to the floor.

“Whoa!”

“Who did that?!” Zenix demanded.

“I didn’t!” Sasha laughed, her heart racing.

“Gene!” she accused, swatting his shoulder.

“Don’t look at me! One of you guys did it,” he said, grinning but clearly intrigued.

Then—thud. A stack of books toppled from a nearby shelf.

“The fuck?!” Zenix jumped back.

Sasha flinched too, but covered it with a laugh at Zenix’s reaction.

Gene’s gaze lingered on the shelf. “…How did that happen?” he muttered, walking over.

“Hey—guys, look at this.” He pointed to a small, dust-caked button embedded in the now-empty space.

“No way. Cool!” Sasha said.

“Should we press it?” Zenix asked.

“Uh, what are buttons for? Obviously we press it,” Sasha said, already leaning in.

She clicked it.

With a low rumble, the bookshelf groaned and began to move, sliding aside to reveal a narrow, dark passageway.

“Whoa…” Gene murmured. He pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up as he entered his passcode—02-14-96.

His homescreen filled the display: Zane, mid-laugh in his pool, black swim shorts clinging to his hips, wet hair slicked back, freckles scattered across sun-warmed skin. The image caught him off-guard every time, even though he’d swiped it from Garroth’s Instagram months ago.

He blinked, switched on his flashlight, and stepped forward.

“Leave it to the Ro’meaves to have a secret passage in their house,” Gene muttered.

The hidden door opened into a narrow space lined with shelves crammed full of binders and books.

“What’s in there?” Sasha asked, stepping in beside him.

“Not sure. Just some weird notes,” Gene said, picking up a letter from the desk.

“What does it say?” Zenix asked.

“Something about loans and payback. I dunno.” He shrugged and moved on, pulling a binder from the shelf. This one was about a mental asylum—Gene rolled his eyes and shoved it back before grabbing another.

To his surprise, it was a photo album.

He flipped through it, slowing when he saw the first few pages—pictures of Zane as a little kid. Chubby cheeks, raven hair, bright blue eyes. In almost every picture, he was looking at Garroth like the guy hung the moon.

A few more pages in, Gene snorted. There was little Zane in a sparkly, oversized pink dress with a paper crown on his head and his mom’s white heels slipping off his feet. He was laughing at kid Garroth, who was dressed up as a dragon, mid-“battle” with little Laurence in a prince costume.

Cute, Gene thought before shutting the album and sliding it back onto the shelf.

When he turned, Zenix and Sasha were staring at him with raised brows and knowing smirks.

“What?” Gene snapped.

“Nothing,” they both said in unison.

They stepped out of the cramped room, but a loud bang echoed from downstairs. They came to a stop at the door.

“Guys?” Sasha asked. She grabbed the door handle—only for it to be yanked open from the other side. She was dragged through before the door slammed shut and locked.

She screamed.

“Sasha!” Gene and Zenix shouted. They rushed to the door, pounding on it before Gene finally forced it open.

Two masked figures stood inside.

“Who the fu—” Zenix started, but both he and Gene were struck down, hitting the floor hard.

Chapter 7: mines

(23:48) (Ein POV)

  

Ein ran through the mine, the sound of his bearfeet echoing in the narrow tunnel. Up ahead, a shadow moved. A man was walking slowly toward the far end, his back turned.

Ein slowed, narrowing his eyes.
"Who the fuck?" he muttered under his breath, his voice barely more than a growl.

Keeping his steps light, he followed the stranger, tail low and ears tilted forward in suspicion. The tunnel mouth widened ahead, and cold light spilled in. When Ein stepped outside, snowflakes swirled down in heavier sheets.

The chill bit at him instantly, even through the layers he wore. His kind could withstand the cold better than most, but even for a werewolf, this was bitter. The sting of the wind made him wince—Zane always hated the cold.

The thought hit him like a punch to the chest.

Ein tried to shove it away, but memory bled in anyway. Zane’s laugh—light and unguarded—rang in his ears. He saw it as clear as if it were happening now: the two of them sprawled across Zane’s bed, pink blankets rumpled from where they’d been wrestling moments before. Ein’s left ear had drooped forward, and Zane had noticed, his grin spreading.

Zane reached out, rubbing the base of Ein’s ears until a shiver of pleasure ran down his spine. Then he gave them a gentle tug, making them flop. Zane snorted in amusement, and Ein—despite his best efforts to stay stoic—had grinned back, his tail wagging fast enough to thump against the soft bedspread.

The warmth of the memory only made the cold around him sharper. A tear stung his eyes, threatening to fall. Ein clenched his jaw, forcing the rest of the memories back down where they couldn’t break him open. Not now. Not here.

He climbed to a higher ridge of snow, scanning the horizon. There—the stranger again, trudging halfway to another hill. Beyond him loomed a derelict building, its dark windows like hollow eyes staring out at the storm. The asylum.

Ein had read about it in passing—abandoned for years, rumors thick around its history. He frowned. Why the hell would someone want to go there?

One of his ears flattened, the silver ring in it jingling faintly with the motion. The sound tugged again at the memory of Zane’s hands on him, but Ein pushed through it. He needed answers. And if his instincts were right, the answers waited in that asylum.

He took one steadying breath, then began the trek down the hill, snow crunching underfoot.

The asylum loomed like a carcass picked clean by time—its stone wall crooked, jagged as broken teeth. Beyond it, skeletal trees clawed at the sky, their branches splintered from storms long past. A fountain sat dead center in the courtyard, frozen mid-spill, ice warped into grotesque shapes like screaming faces.

Ein froze. A light. Someone moved toward the front door.

That’s not good.

Revenge burned hot in his chest, but Aaron’s warning rattled in the back of his head—he had a habit of charging in and getting himself killed. With a low growl, he crouched, peering over the wall. The man ahead pushed the asylum’s front doors open, flanked by two wolves.

‘Let’s get a closer look.’

Ein hopped the wall, feet crunching through the frost, and stalked toward the entrance. A weather-worn CONDEMNED sign hung crooked beside the door, its edges curling and stained yellow.

“Of course,” Ein muttered. “Creepiest place on Earth. Why wouldn’t I end up here?”

He tried the handle. Locked. Smashing it would make too much noise.

His eyes scanned the wall. There—a rusted metal grate, barely two feet tall. Solid, corroded, stinking of wet iron. He wrenched it aside, revealing a long, vertical drop.

“Dammit. Alright.”

He slid in, feet hitting concrete hard enough to jar his knees. The air was damp and sour. Rubble littered the floor—splintered boards, coils of rope mottled with black mold, the skeletal remains of rats scattered in the dust.

A section of wire fencing lay crumpled nearby. Beyond it, barrels slumped in the dark, their lids askew and oozing thick, tar-like sludge. He shoved one under a narrow opening and climbed through.

A metal catwalk stretched over a yawning pit below. Each step groaned, flakes of rust dropping into the black. The faint metallic tang of blood drifted up from somewhere below.

Zane would’ve laughed at him for being on a catwalk. The thought almost made him smile—almost.

He reached a platform, hauling himself through a jagged hole in the concrete above. The rough edge bit into his palms, skin splitting, warm blood slicking his grip.

Now he was on the main floor—if it could be called that. Concrete columns leaned like drunkards, and a balcony hung above, its railing shattered. Below it, a massive door squatted like a vault to hell.

The left side of the room was buried under collapsed masonry. To the right, most doors were sealed under debris. That left only the big double doors.

Peering through a rectangular hole in one, he spotted the man from before disappearing deeper inside. The wolves padded off to the right, their nails clicking faintly on the cracked tile.

The door had a keycard slot. Useless to him. He turned away, eyes landing on a far hallway marked by a tarnished plaque:

BLACKWOOD PINES SANATORIUM — Opened 1922

“Oh, good. History,” Ein muttered.

He moved into a room labeled ADMIN, picking his way past overturned metal shelves and broken glass. Another hallway branched off. He followed it straight, only to find most doors blocked by rubble.

One open room contained a desk with its drawers ripped out, a lone yellowed paper clipped to a board. A medical report—miners trapped in the mountain. Only a few survived.

He frowned, setting it back down. At the end of the hall, stairs descended into a lower level. The smell hit him halfway down—thick, coppery, and sweet with decay.

A metal door with a wire window waited at the bottom. He glanced in—just in time to see a crow staring back at him before exploding into the air, cawing so loud it scraped his nerves raw.

“Shit,” he muttered.

On the other side of the glass sat a wooden desk, a machete buried in it. Blood had dried in black crusts around the blade.

The smell here was worse—blood, rot, mildew—clinging to his skin like a second, rancid layer. Not Zane’s blood. 

“Gross,” he said under his breath, yanking the machete free. The wood groaned like it was alive. He wiped the blade on his jeans and slid it through his belt loop.

Beyond the desk, metal bedframes lay twisted in heaps. Moonlight seeped weakly through wire-covered windows, turning dust motes into floating ash.

A shadow moved across the wall. Large. Four-legged. His ears went back.

Not sure they where werewolves.

He followed the hallway to an open doorway. A toppled light fixture flickered under rubble, its beam fixed on a wall like a dying spotlight.

He stepped through—and froze.

A box sat in the center of the room, soaked dark with blood. A human arm jutted out, skin ashen, cuts stitched into the flesh. Every few seconds, the arm twitched.

Click.

The movement was mechanical—each jerk punctuated by that sharp, insectile click.

“Woah, woah, woah…” Ein muttered, reaching toward the ID tag on the wrist.

The instant his fingers brushed it, steel jaws snapped shut.

Pain exploded white-hot through his hand. The bear trap had taken his last two fingers, teeth grinding against bone. He screamed, stumbling, trying to pry it open—only to make the agony worse.

He jammed the machete into the mechanism. Metal shrieked. The trap opened a fraction—then the blade tip snapped.

It slammed shut again.

“FUCK!” His voice cracked, ragged with pain. Blood poured down his wrist in hot rivulets.

Tears blurred his vision. He tried again, forcing the blade in, twisting until the steel bent. It popped open just enough to yank his mangled fingers free.

He collapsed to his knees, clutching his hand.

The bone gleamed pale under the shredded flesh. His whole body trembled as his blood pattered onto the dusty floor.

“Okay… okay, it’s fine… it’s fine…” His breath hitched.

That’s when he saw it.

Against the far wall, a glass jar. Inside, a severed human head floated in cloudy fluid, hair drifting like seaweed, eyes wide and milk-white. Its lips were peeled back in a rictus grin—like it had been laughing when it died.

“Oh… what the fuck…”

Chapter 8: oh no zenix!

Summary:

he okay i promise

(23:45) (genes  POV)

Gene blinked awake, head pounding.

“What the fuck…” he groaned, reaching for his phone. The flashlight beam cut through the dark.

“Sasha? Zenix?” he called. No answer.

He pushed himself to his feet, moving through the upstairs living room—only to step on something hard. Looking down, his stomach dropped.

Sasha’s phone. A small pool of blood glistened beneath it.

“Shit.”

He took off toward another door, shoving it open. Blood spattered the far wall. His pulse thundered in his ears as he spun and bolted downstairs.

The side door was open, the snow inside stained red in a drag mark.

Gene grabbed his shoes and jacket from the front door and sprinted back, following the trail.

A scarecrow suddenly popped up from behind a fence.

“SHIT!” He stumbled back, heart racing. The thing’s face looked almost real—skin-like, sagging, too human.

Pushing past it, he shouted into the storm. “Sasha! Zenix!”

The snow came down harder, muffling sound. The blood trail led to an old cabin hunched at the end of the path.

“The fuck…” Gene muttered, pushing the door open.

A shiver ran down his spine. Dead animals dangled from hooks in the ceiling. Chains clinked against the walls. Antlers hung over a table littered with rusted tools.

He forced himself forward. “Sasha? Zenix?”

“GENE!” Sasha’s voice rang out.

He ran into the next room. “Sasha! Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I-I don’t know—please, help!”

Gene slowed. To his left stood a floor-to-ceiling wire fence, a single lever in the middle. Behind it, Sasha and Zenix were tied to a wooden wall. Two mounted guns stood before them, bolted to posts in the ground. Sasha’s cheeks were wet with tears; Zenix hung limp, still unconscious.

“Gene!” Sasha sobbed.

A crackle filled the air. “Hello. Thank you all for joining me,” a distorted voice said from a speaker overhead.

“Zenix, wake up!” Sasha screamed.

Zenix stirred, mumbling, “H-Huh?”

“Today,” the voice continued, “we’re going to conduct a little experiment.”

“What is this?!” Zenix shouted.

“For this experiment, we’ll need the cooperation of our two test subjects… Sasha and Zenix.”

“Oh my god!” Zenix jerked at the restraints. Sasha cried harder.

“And one more participant… to decide which subject lives and which dies.”

They both thrashed against their bindings.

“Calm down. It’s simple, Gene. You’ll see a lever in front of you. Turn it toward the one you want to shoot. If you refuse… I’ll choose for you.”

Gene’s body locked in place.

“Dude—think about this!” Zenix barked.

“Gene! You can’t let me die!” Sasha screamed.

“Hold on! I can’t— I can’t think straight!” Gene’s voice cracked.

“Tick-tock, Gene,” the voice taunted.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Five… four… three—”

Gene’s hand shot out and slammed the lever toward Zenix.

The gun fired.

“NO!” Sasha screamed, eyes clamped shut.

Gene stared, frozen, as the bullet slammed into Zenix’s chest. Blood splattered across the wood. His eyes rolled shut, his head lolling to the side.

A side door swung open. Gene went through it, racing to Sasha.

“Don’t look, okay? Don’t look,” he whispered, pulling her free.

“Please tell me he’s okay! Please!” Sasha sobbed.

Gene held her as they stumbled toward the front. Her blood left a thin trail in the snow.

Footsteps crunched nearby.

“Holy shit, you guys okay?!” Travis called, running up with Dante.

“Shit, what happened—is that blood?” Dante’s eyes widened.

“Z-Zenix,” Sasha choked.

“What?” Dante asked.

“He’s dead!” Gene shouted.

“What?!” Travis froze.

“He died right in front of us!” Gene’s voice broke.

“There’s a maniac!” Sasha cried, shaking.

“A maniac?” Dante repeated.

“We gotta get out of here!” Travis said, gripping Sasha’s shoulder.

“There was a gun—it was him or Sasha—I didn’t know what to do! It shot right through him!” Gene rambled.

“You what?!” Dante yelled.

“I-I killed him,” Gene gasped.

“This is insane.” Dante said, grabbing Travis’s arm.

“We’re gonna figure this out, man,” Travis assured him.

Gene kept muttering, “I don’t know, I’m sorry, I don’t know…” under his breath.

“Travis, we need to get help now,” Dante said firmly.

“We should look for the others first!” Travis shot back.

“Zane and Ein are probably off sixty-nining in the other cabin, and I don’t know where Aph, Aaron, Garroth, or Laurence are,” Dante said, his pulse racing.

“Aph and Aaron should still be in the cabin—and so should Gar and Laurence,” Travis said.

Dante nodded. “Yeah. You’re right.” He looked at Gene. “Get everyone else together. But if there’s a maniac running around, we need to get help too. With the lines down, we’ll have to head to the bottom of the mountain.”

Sasha gripped Gene’s arm tightly as they made their way back to the main cabin.

Chapter 9: oh deer!

 (00:01)  (Dante POV)

Dante and Travis had been making their way down the snowy slope for several minutes, their boots crunching in the thin crust of ice with each step. The mountain air bit at their cheeks, and their breath came out in quick bursts of white steam. Dante’s red snow jacket was zipped all the way to his chin, the hood pulled low over his messy blue hair, which peeked out in uneven tufts. 

Travis trudged beside him, wearing a deep green snow jacket with the hood down, revealing his shock of white hair that seemed to glow faintly under the moonlight. A pair of green earmuffs clung loosely to his head, He kept his hands stuffed in his pockets, muttering under his breath about the cold.

They rounded a curve in the trail when a tall, black iron gate appeared to their right. Dante stepped toward it, brushing snow from the small control panel with his glove. He pressed the button—only for it to glow a sharp, angry red.

“Hey… it’s locked,” Dante said flatly.

“The hell? Who did that?” he asked again, hitting the button once more just to be sure.

Travis frowned, peering past him at the looming gate. “Man, there’s some seriously uncool shit going on up here tonight…”

They both let out synchronized sighs, the sound mixing with the low whistle of the wind. Neither of them lingered long—they kept walking down the path, boots dragging a little in the deepening snow.

“...I still can’t believe Zenix is dead,” Dante murmured, rubbing his gloved hands up and down his arms to preserve warmth.

Travis shook his head, his breath fogging up in front of him. “I can’t believe how he died.”

Dante hesitated. “Well… I mean, what if they were wrong?”

Travis’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Maybe we should’ve checked the cabin… to see if it was really true.”

“I—I don’t know, man.” Travis gave a slight shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. “There are some things that, once you see them, you can never un-see.” He shot a quick glance at Dante, as if to gauge his reaction.

Dante nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess… but some things you have to see for yourself.”

The path leveled out as they reached the cable car shack, a squat wooden building rimmed with icicles.

“I’ll take their word for it,” Travis muttered, trudging up the short steps to the porch.

“Look—an axe,” Dante said suddenly, nodding toward where a weathered axe was lodged in the door.

“I feel better with an axe,” he muttered to himself, stepping forward and gripping the handle with both hands. With a grunt, he wiggled it free.

Travis tried the door, rattling the handle. “Oh, the hell? It’s locked!” His voice was full of confusion. “It was open just a few hours ago…”

“You’ve got the axe. Break the door down, will ya?”

Dante shook his head. “Whoa, wait a second. We start smashing things, the maniacs are gonna hear us.”

“You got a better suggestion?” Travis crossed his arms over his green jacket, his breath puffing out in small clouds.

Dante’s eyes darted around the porch. “I dunno… what about—look!”

“What?”

“There.” Dante pointed to a small, slightly open window above a wooden bench.

“A window,” he said, his eyes lighting up.

“Oh great, D. I think even Zane would struggle fitting through that little slot,” Travis snorted.

“Nah, come on!” Dante grinned.

“Dude, you’re not gonna fit through there,” Travis said with a shake of his head.

“I’m not sure I’m strong enough to break the door down, though. I mean, I’m not Garroth.” Dante chuckled at his own joke.

Travis gave a reluctant laugh. “Alright! Fine, I’ll give it a shot. But if I get stuck, you’re pulling me out.”

“Course, man! I’d never leave you here.”

Travis climbed onto the bench, the wood creaking under his weight. He braced a green-gloved hand on the wall, using the other to pry at the window. It groaned but shifted an inch.

“Alright… here goes,” he muttered before swinging one leg through. Dante stood below, ready in case his friend slipped.

Travis squeezed through, landing with a soft thud inside. “Shit! It’s pitch black—I can’t see!”

“I’m right here, Trav! Follow my voice!” Dante called.

“There’s so much crap in here, I keep bumping into everything—you know I’m clumsy,” Travis said with a laugh that was quickly interrupted by a loud oof as he walked into a desk. “Ow—ugh—something’s crawling on my arm! Dante, I think there’s spiders in here!”

“It’s okay! Just find the latch!”

There was the sound of more shuffling, grunting, and a faint curse before the door swung open. Travis stood there, his white hair even messier than before, earmuffs now hanging loosely around his neck.

“Hey,” he said, smiling and giving a half-wave with his green glove.

Dante laughed, raising a blue-gloved hand in return. “Hey.”

“Hello,” Travis said with mock seriousness.

“You rock, dude,” Dante grinned, stepping inside and flicking on the light switch right by the door.

Travis stared at the wall. “Those were there the whole time? …Come on,” he groaned, pouting.

Dante chuckled but froze when his gaze fell on the glass window to the next room. His blood ran cold.

“What the fuck… we were here just a few hours ago,” he whispered.

On the far wall, the word DIE was scrawled over and over again in some dark red substance.

Travis joined him, his breath catching. “It’s gotta be the maniacs—the ones who got Gene, Sasha… and Zenix…” His voice trembled.

“They must know this is the only way back…” Dante said quietly.

“Don’t say that!” Travis snapped, eyes darting toward the shadows.

Dante moved to the nearest window. “Look—the cable car’s all the way down there.” He pointed. It was at least ten feet away, dangling uselessly over empty space.

“I mean… it’s not that far. Maybe you could jump it?” Travis suggested.

Dante turned to him slowly. “No way in hell.”

“Well, what are we gonna do then?”

“I—I don’t know,” Dante muttered, ruffling his blue hair with one hand.

Travis scanned the room. “Shit, this place is so busted up…”

They stepped into the other room, where skis, bags, and scattered papers littered the floor. On the wall, switches were half-covered in frost. Dante’s eyes caught on a framed map lying face-down. He picked it up, brushing the dust away, and placed it back on the wall.

“Hey, look—fire tower.”

“As cool as that is, maybe we should try and get the cable car working first?” Travis said, leaning over his shoulder.

Dante moved to the control panel. “Just great…”

“What?”

“No keys. Which means no cable car.” He tucked one hand into the pocket of his red jacket, the other still gripping the axe.

“So… we’re back to square one…” Travis said, then suddenly gasped. “What about the fire tower? On the map you found!”

“Guess it’s worth a shot.”

“Maybe it’s got a radio or something—they keep those there, right?”

“Probably, yeah.”

“Then we gotta get that radio!”

“We can use it to call for help!” Dante grinned.

“Hell yeah!” Travis said, bumping knuckles against Dante’s. 

They pushed the heavy door open and stepped out into the night, their boots crunching on the snow-dusted concrete steps. The cold hit them instantly—sharp, biting, and made worse by the wind funneling around the building’s corner. Their breath plumed white in the air as they descended the stairs, stopping when they realized the only path forward was a narrow ledge that wrapped along the outer wall, suspended over a sheer cliff face that disappeared into swirling fog.

Travis leaned forward, peering over the edge before quickly pulling back. “Hold up!” he said, pointing at a ladder bolted to the wall above them, just out of reach.

Dante followed his gaze, the dim light catching in his bright blue hair as he tilted his head. “Alright,” he muttered, crouching low and patting his thigh. “Come on up.”

Travis smirked like a man who’d been handed the perfect opportunity. “Knew I’d love seeing you on your knees,” he teased, his grin wide enough to cut through the cold.

Dante’s head snapped up, an incredulous laugh escaping him as he smacked Travis’s thigh with a gloved hand. “Shut up, dude.”

Still grinning, Travis stepped onto Dante’s leg, using his balance to stretch upward. His green snow boots dug into the fabric of Dante’s blue snow pants as he reached for the ladder. The cold metal scraped against his gloves before he managed to hook his fingers over the bottom rung. With a sharp tug, the ladder clanged down and locked into place with a metallic click.

Travis hopped back to the ground, his green earmuffs bouncing against his neck. “After you, m’lady,” he said with an exaggerated bow.

Dante rolled his eyes but grinned anyway. “Thank you, good sir,” he shot back in mock elegance, taking hold of the ladder. His snow jacket crinkled as he climbed down, boots finding careful purchase on each rung until they touched the narrow ledge.

The wind whipped harder here, tugging at his jacket and trying to push him toward the abyss. He flattened his back against the wall and shuffled sideways.

Travis followed, green boots scraping against the thin layer of snow that coated the ledge. Both moved slowly, step by cautious step, the sound of their boots muffled by the snow.

Halfway across, Dante’s boot slipped on a hidden patch of ice. His body jerked toward the cliff, but Travis’s hand shot out instantly, gripping his arm tight and yanking him back.

“I’ve got you,” Travis said firmly, eyes locked on him.

Dante exhaled sharply, pressing himself hard against the wall. “Thanks,” he breathed, his heart thudding. The wind howled in his ears, carrying flecks of snow that stung against his exposed cheeks.

“You good?” Travis asked, scanning his friend’s face.

“Yeah,” Dante nodded, though his voice was still a little unsteady. “Let’s keep going.”

They reached a section where the overhang forced them to duck low, their backs brushing the ice-cold wall. The fog below was so thick that Travis couldn’t see more than a foot past his boots.

“Shit…” he muttered, his voice low.

“Almost there,” Dante assured him, holding out a hand. Travis took it, their gloves brushing.

“Don’t look down, okay?” Dante warned.

“Okay, okay,” Travis replied quickly, eyes glued to the wall as they shuffled sideways.

At last, solid ground met their boots. Both men let out a breath of relief at the same time. Ahead, a set of snow-covered stairs climbed in two directions—one down toward the darkness, the other up into the trees.

“Man, I’m glad that’s over,” Travis said, shaking his head.

“No kidding,” Dante replied, cracking a smile.

They started up the stairs, the wooden planks groaning under their combined weight. The snow clung stubbornly to each step, crunching beneath their boots until they stepped onto a narrow, winding path through the woods.

“What if it doesn’t work?” Travis asked after a moment, his flashlight beam cutting through the darkness.

“What doesn’t work?” Dante asked, his voice muffled by the wind.

“The radio,” Travis said.

“It’ll work,” Dante replied simply, shrugging one shoulder beneath his jacket.

“Okay… but if it doesn’t, we need a plan,” Travis pressed, angling his phone’s light toward the path ahead.

“We could just climb down?” Dante suggested casually.

Travis stopped, staring at him in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Oh, come on—it’s not like it’s floating in the sky,” Dante said with a smirk.

Travis bumped their shoulders together. “It might as well be! I mean, it’s pitch black out here.”

“Well, hopefully we won’t have to find out,” Dante replied.

“Maybe we could just wait it out until morning?” Travis suggested.

“As long as we don’t hide in the main cabin,” Dante warned. “That’s the first place a psycho would check.”

“Yeah. Let’s hope Gene and Sasha found the others,” Travis said, his tone quiet but hopeful.

They climbed another set of rickety wooden stairs that swayed under their weight, both of them moving quickly to get it over with. At the top, the path opened into a clearing off to the right. Travis wandered toward it, curiosity leading him, and Dante followed.

The clearing overlooked a cliff edge, half a faded “DANGER” sign jutting from the snow near the drop. Dante peered down into the fog, the nothingness making his stomach twist.

A sudden, sharp sound broke the stillness—an eerie screech, high-pitched and strange.

“Huh?” Travis turned toward the path they’d come from.

The sound of hoofbeats followed, muffled but growing louder.

“What’s that sound?” Travis asked, glancing nervously between the path and the cliff.

“I… don’t know,” Dante whispered, his eyes narrowing.

From the swirling mist ahead, a herd of deer emerged—dark shapes moving steadily toward them.

“Woah… shit,” Travis muttered, his green gloves tightening into fists.

The animals kept coming, their breath steaming in the cold air.

Dante instinctively stepped back, but his heel hit the edge of the cliff. His stomach lurched, and he quickly grabbed Travis’s arm to steady himself, making sure neither of them took another dangerous step.

Chapter 10: Aphmau's turn!

(23:52) (Aphmaus POV)

Steam curled in slow, lazy swirls above the surface of the bathwater, clinging to Aphmau’s damp skin. The low thump of music from her earbuds filled her head, drowning out the world beyond the bathroom walls. Her hair, tied up in a messy knot, left beads of water trailing down the back of her neck. Lit candles lined the edges of the tub, their golden light flickering against the white tile.

She didn’t notice the masked figure standing in the shadow by the door—silent, still—holding a folded set of clothes. He lingered for a moment, then turned and slipped out. As the door clicked shut, one candle’s flame sputtered and died.

Aphmau’s eyes snapped open. She sat up slightly, gaze flicking to the extinguished candle. Slowly, she pulled out her earbuds.
“Hello?” she called.

No answer.

“Guys?” Her voice was sharper this time. She scanned the steam-hazed room. “What are you doing out there… being creepy?” she muttered under her breath.

“Okay…” she sighed, pushing herself upright. Wrapping a black towel snugly around her, she stepped onto the cool tile. The air bit at her skin. She crossed to the chair where she’d left her clothes—only to find one purple wolf sock lying there, alone.

She picked it up, shaking her head. “Oh, really? You took my clothes?” She tossed the sock back onto the chair. “Whichever one of you did this is off my Christmas list. Not cool, guys.”

Pulling the towel tighter, she called louder, “Garroth!” She cracked open the bathroom door. “Aaron?”

The hallway beyond was dark, lit only by more scattered candles. The air smelled faintly of melting wax. Red balloons bobbed along the stairs, each marked with white-painted arrows. A grandfather clock chimed, the sudden sound echoing through the house and making her jump.

“Ugh… stupid clock,” she muttered, shaking off the shiver crawling up her spine.

“Laurence? Dante? Sasha?” she called as she descended the stairs. “This is getting really out of hand, okay? It was all very funny—ha, ha—‘look at Aphmau walking around in a towel.’ But now I just want to be done and go to bed.”

Her voice echoed as she crossed the second-floor landing. A door stood ajar, shadows spilling from within. She nudged it open and stepped inside—Zane’s room. She smiled faintly at the gaming desk pressed against the wall, running her fingers over the black cat-ear headphones sitting there.

Her gaze roamed over the shelves: cookbooks, math and chemistry texts, framed photos of Zane with his brothers, and one of the two of them laughing together. The bed caught her eye—black comforter folded back to reveal pale pink sheets, a scatter of stuffed animals, a My Little Horsie plush on a pink pillow. Fairy lights hung through a sheer canopy, switched off. The sight made her smile again, but the chill of the floor reminded her she couldn’t linger.

“Man, did they shut off the heat too?” she muttered, stepping back into the hall.

She moved downstairs, scanning the dimly lit space. “Can I get my clothes back, please? Or am I just supposed to walk around in a towel all night?” Her eyes caught on a photo on a shelf—Garroth with his arm slung over Zane’s shoulder, Vlad laughing beside them. The warmth of the picture didn’t quite reach her.

She spotted a flashlight and flicked it on. The beam cut through the darkness. “Man, this is creepy,” she whispered—missing the faint shuffle of footsteps trailing behind her.

She walked into the home theater, her voice cracked the silence.
“Hey! Guys, come on! I am done with this! I really don’t appreciate the silent treatment!”

The acoustics made her words bounce back at her, warped and hollow.

Then—SLAM.
The heavy theater door shut so hard the walls seemed to shake.

She spun, her pulse spiking like a struck drum.
Her towel clung damply to her skin.

“Hello, Aphmau.”

The voice was low, slow, and everywhere at once—pouring from hidden speakers, wrapping around her like icy fingers.

Her head jerked toward the massive projector screen just as the blackness flickered to static.
White noise hissed… and then, the image sharpened.

It was her.
Sitting in the bath from earlier. Steam curling in the air. Head tilted back. Eyes closed. Humming softly.

Her stomach clenched like she’d swallowed a stone.
“Oh my god…” she whispered.

“Isn’t she pretty?” The voice almost purred. “A pretty, naïve girl.”

She took a shaky step back. “What… what is going on?!”

The image changed abruptly—Zenix, mouth open in a scream—BANG!
The shot was deafening even through the speakers.
Blood splattered across the frame.
Sasha’s scream followed, raw and high-pitched, cutting straight into her chest.

Aphmau staggered back, her breath hitching into ragged gasps. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

“I’m going to give you ten seconds… Nine…”

She pressed against the wall, arms tight around herself, towel bunching in her fists. “No, no, no, no…”

“Eight… seven…”

The doors burst open.

A tall, masked figure stepped inside, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world.

Aphmau didn’t think—she grabbed the nearest vase and hurled it with every ounce of strength she had.
It shattered against his chest in an explosion of ceramic shards and water.

She didn’t wait to see if it slowed him down.
She bolted toward the far door, yanked it open, slammed it shut, and kept running.

Her bare feet slapped against the freezing wood floors, the cold biting at her toes.
The air grew musty as she barreled through unfamiliar rooms—a dusty bedroom, the air thick with neglect.
Boxes leaned in precarious stacks, blocking part of the way.

She spotted an open door behind the bed and clambered over the mattress, springs squealing under her weight.

A heavy crash followed—he’d just kicked in the bedroom door.
He was faster than she thought.

Her lungs burned as she flew down a narrow concrete stairwell, almost pitching forward when her heel caught a cracked step.

The basement reeked of damp stone and rust.
Her eyes landed on the bat from earlier, leaning against a wall. She lunged for it—fingers brushing cold metal—when a hand grazed her shoulder.

She spun, swinging with pure desperation.

CRACK.

The bat connected with a solid thud.

He staggered back a step, but didn’t go down.
His head tilted, mask unbroken.

Aphmau turned and ran into a wine cellar so narrow the racks seemed to press in on her. She tried the far door—nothing. No handle.

“Are you kidding me?!”

Her eyes darted upward—one rack’s top shelf looked loose.
She leapt, grabbed it, and yanked it down.
A hidden handle clattered to the floor.

She shoved it into the socket, her breath coming in shallow bursts.

He was right there—she could feel the air shift behind her.
The bolt clicked. The door swung shut, and she slammed it closed.

A gloved hand shot through the small window in the door, clawing for the lock.
She snatched the metal cover from the wall and shoved it into place, forcing his arm back through with a harsh grunt.

She whirled toward another door, but the knob wouldn’t budge.
“No!”

Throwing herself at it, she slammed her shoulder again and again until the wood splintered. She stumbled forward into a narrow hallway clogged with cobwebs that clung to her damp skin.

Her breath was too loud in her own ears as she sprinted toward what looked like a clearing ahead—only to skid to a stop.

From the shadows, the masked man stepped out, blocking her path.

“I’m sorry. So sorry,” he murmured, and his voice was almost gentle now.

She tried to turn, but his arms were already around her, forcing a mask over her face.

She clawed at it, nails scraping plastic, but a sweet, chemical smell invaded her lungs.
Her limbs went leaden. Her vision tunneled.

The hallway tilted.
Her knees buckled, cheek meeting the ice-cold floor.

The last thing she felt was his gloved hand fixing her towel, tying the ends in a tight knot as she slipped into darkness.

Chapter 11: timberrr

(00:32) (Dante POV)

 

Dante instinctively stepped back—then froze when his heel scraped loose snow off the cliff’s edge.

The dizzying drop yawned behind him, a blur of jagged rock and white wind. His stomach lurched.

Travis’s wide-eyed face was pale against the frostbitten air. Dante’s hand shot out, grabbing the sleeve of Travis’s heavy forest-green parka, steadying both of them before either could make another fatal step.

The deer—twelve at least—kept coming. Hooves crunched in the snow, slow and deliberate, pushing them toward the edge.

“Stay calm… they’re just deer,” Dante said, voice low but tight. He swallowed, tasting cold metal in the air. Taking a cautious step forward, he tried to ease them out of the standoff.

“No, no, no—they’re gonna hurt us!” Travis’s breath puffed in quick clouds as Dante tugged him along.

“Shhh.” Dante shushed him softly, eyes locked on the nearest buck’s antlers. They edged forward until the first line of trees loomed overhead.

Then one of the deer lowered its head and slammed its antlers into the snow. The ground shuddered.

Dante’s hand twitched his knuckles whitened on the handle—then he shook his head, forcing himself to move past. “It’s okay. Just walk slow.”

Travis nodded shakily. “Okay…” he mumbled, his breath uneven.

They clambered over a snow-slick boulder, Dante reaching back to haul Travis up, boots scraping on ice. On the other side, a fallen tree formed a narrow bridge. They slid down from it into knee-deep snow, legs burning from the cold.

As they made their way uphill, the forest opened to a wooden ridge dusted in frost.

“That was crazy!” Travis said, glancing over his shoulder.

“Yeah. I’ve never seen so many of them… thought they were gonna push us off.” Dante said 

“Don’t say that! Can you imagine falling to our deaths?” Travis gave a shaky laugh that faded into silence.

They trudged on, boots squeaking in the packed snow.

“Hey… if we do manage to get someone on the radio—” Travis began.

“We will,” Dante cut in, firm.

“—and we tell them we need help, what do we do while we wait?”

“Then we go back to the lodge and get everyone else,” Dante replied without hesitation.

“Oh, come on! Not the lodge…” Travis grumbled. “Shouldn’t we stay here? In case they need to get back in touch?”

Dante smirked, a small puff of laughter escaping into the frigid air. “Let’s just get that radio working first.”

Travis tilted his head back, eyes catching on something above the trees. “Look—the tower!”

Dante followed his gaze and felt a rush of relief. “Sweet!”

They both broke into a run, their boots crunching through the snow. The tower’s motion light flared on, making them both flinch back with startled laughs before sprinting again.

At the base, a metal ladder gleamed with frost. Travis slapped a gloved hand to it first. “I win!” he yelled.

Dante shook his head. “Nu-uh! It was first to the base!”

“That makes no sense!” Travis shot back.

Dante dropped his axe into the snow and scrambled up the ladder, boots clanging against the rungs. “I win!” he called down from the top.

“You cheated! You dick!” Travis huffed, climbing after him.

“Don’t be a sore loser, man,” Dante chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder once he joined him on the platform.

Inside, the air was stale and cold. Travis wandered to a metal locker while Dante knelt to shut the trapdoor.

“Whoa… creepy,” Travis muttered, pulling out a missing poster for a girl named Hanna Washington. He stuffed it back inside and moved to an old printer, jabbing the power button—nothing.

“Power must be out,” he sighed.

Dante glanced over from the silent radio. “I think so too. Maybe the power box is outside?”

They both looked toward a weathered door. Dante headed for it. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Outside, wind slapped at his jacket as he stepped onto the wraparound awning. The fuse box was right beside the door.

“Well, that was easy,” he muttered, opening it. The wind caught the door and slammed it against the wall. He pulled the lever up.

Inside, Travis saw the printer spark to life, a green light blinking. It began printing a sheet of paper. “Hell yeah!”

Dante lingered outside for a moment, spotting a red emergency box at the back of the tower. Inside—a flare gun. “This could help,” he said to himself, firing it into the sky.

“What was that?” Travis called from inside.

“Found a flare gun,” Dante said, shrugging as the cold nipped at his ears. He walked back inside shutting the door behind him.

“Nice work, bro.” Travis grinned, giving him a high five.

The paper from the printer was another missing poster—this one for Beth Washington. Travis set it aside, uneasy.

Dante fiddled with the radio knobs until static cleared just enough for a voice to break through:

“-ranger service for Blackwood County, over.”

Travis snatched the mic. “Hello? This is Travis Valkrum and Dante Saab, we need help. …over.”

“Hello? I can’t hear you, please repeat. Over.”

“Shit.”

Dante leaned in, pressing the button. “This is Dante Saab and Travis Valkrum requesting help from Blackwood Mountain. There’s been a murder. Over.”

“There’s a maniac here! Please send help, over,” Travis added.

“I read you, sir. Please do not leave your position. We will send helicopters as soon as the storm has subsided. Over.”

Relief poured through both of them.

“When?” Dante asked.

“Dawn at the earliest. Over.”

“Damn,” Dante huffed, leaning back against the cold wall. “Guess we should get c—”

A sharp SNAP cut him off.

It was metallic, high-pitched—like cables under too much strain.

Both men froze.

“The fuck?!” Travis shouted.

The floor under them shifted. The tower groaned, its frame sinking deeper into the snow with a grinding moan.

“Holy shit! What is happening?!” Dante’s voice cracked as desks began to slide across the room, metal legs squealing against the floor.

The entire tower tilted.

“The tower’s falling!” Travis yelled, stumbling toward the wall.

“Don’t move!” Dante barked, gripping the icy window frame with both hands.

The radio tumbled from the table, hitting the floor in a spray of sparks. A thin ribbon of fire curled upward from it, spreading toward a stack of papers.

The tilt became a lurch.

They both screamed as the structure gave way, the world turning sideways.

Travis slammed against a window with a sickening crack. Above him, Dante clung desperately to the frame.

“Travis?!” Dante’s voice was sharp, urgent.

Travis’s vision blurred with spots. He glanced down—nothing but a jagged cliff below. His stomach dropped.

The fire was growing, orange light flickering across the cramped interior. A metal locker began to topple toward him.

“Move!” Dante shouted.

Travis rolled just as it crashed through the glass, the shards catching his jacket. The sudden gap sucked him forward—his scream was torn away by the wind.

“TRAVIS!” Dante yelled, eyes wide as he watched Travis slam onto the outer metal railing, hands clawing at it.

“DANTE!” Travis shouted back, trying to pull himself up. Above him, the radio microphone dangled, swaying in the icy air.

“-ay. Over.” The ranger’s voice crackled faintly from inside.

“Oh shit…” Travis’s breath caught as he spotted the printer—now engulfed in flames—toppling toward him. It smashed past, heat licking his face, and the impact jarred him enough that one glove slipped from the railing.

“Fuck! Help!” Travis cried, dangling by one hand as the tower shuddered again.

With a deafening crunch, the whole structure slid off the cliff.

It landed at a sickening angle, balanced over an open mine.

Dante scrambled, crawling along the tilted floor. “Travis! Where are you?!”

“DANTEE! HELP ME!” Travis’s voice echoed, raw with panic.

Dante followed the sound, climbing through a jagged gap until he saw him—perched on a twisted strip of metal too far down to reach safely.

“I’m coming! Don’t worry! The tower’s pretty unstable here!” Dante called, gripping the wall to keep his footing.

“DUDE! You’ve gotta do something now! What are you waiting for?!” Travis’s breath was ragged, his eyes darting to the endless drop below.

“I’m thinking! Give me a sec!” Dante’s voice cracked with urgency.

“Just—just get me out of here!”

“I will! Just trust me, okay?!”

Dante braced himself, leaning down, arm outstretched. “I’m here!”

Their gloved fingers brushed—barely—before the metal under Travis gave way.

He slipped.

“TRAVIS!” Dante screamed.

“DAANTEE!” Travis’s voice echoed as he fell.

The tower groaned again. Dante felt the floor shift beneath him—no time to think. He spotted a ledge jutting from the cliff face and jumped, hitting hard.

Behind him, the tower finally gave up, collapsing into the mine with a roar of splintering wood and twisting steel.

Dante staggered upright, clutching his head. “Travis… no, no, no. Please…” His voice cracked, trembling.

He scanned the dark drop below—nothing. Just drifting snow.

An opening in the mountain caught his eye, timber support beams crisscrossing overhead. His throat tightened. Breathing hard, he stepped forward.

That’s when he heard it—high-pitched, warped, unnatural. A scream.

He turned sharply.

“Travis?” he asked, almost afraid to say it aloud.

But all he saw was parts of the burning tower, smoldering in the dark.

Chapter 12: asylum

(Ein POV) (01:02) 

 

“Oh… what the fuck…”
Ein muttered, his voice trembling, body still shivering from adrenaline and cold. His eyes darted to a door beside the shelf of glass jars that contained severed heads. A keycard lock glinted under the flickering light, and a tarnished metal sign hung crookedly:

"Chapel – Security Pass Required."

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Ein growled under his breath.

Beside the door was a wall of what he thought were cupboards—until he pulled one open.
“Oh fu—!”

It was a mortuary cabinet. The metal tray screeched as he dragged it out, flakes of dried blood smearing under his nails. No body—just a toe tag. He plucked it up and read aloud,
“Attacked by inmate. Fatal laceration.”

He shoved the tray back in and yanked open another. Inside was a crumpled blanket and a brittle, yellowed document:
“Body was not discovered until 6–8 hours after death. Sections of intestines and kidneys were reportedly eaten by the attacker.”

Ein’s nose wrinkled. “Holy shit… he ate them?”

The last cabinet was heavier. He braced his foot against the base and hauled the tray out—and instantly gagged. A corpse lay sprawled on the metal, eyes stuck open, the whites clouded with decay. Only a few strands of greasy black hair clung to the mottled scalp. Skin peeled in ragged strips from the jawline, the mouth frozen half-open with several teeth missing.

Then the throat bulged.

Something wriggled up from inside. A fat, slick rat burst from the corpse’s mouth, its whiskers twitching as it squealed.

“SHIT!” Ein staggered back, almost dropping the tray. His eyes caught on the dead man’s uniform—a faded security patch still clung to the shirt. A keycard bulged in the breast pocket. Gritting his teeth, he reached past the stench, yanked the card free, and backed away fast.

He scanned the keycard at the chapel door, the lock clicking open with a cold metallic thunk. He slipped inside and pocketed the card, emerging into another dim room. The opposite side revealed a set of stairs leading up.

Halfway to the second landing, movement ripped through the shadows—something massive and black lunged from a hole in the wall. A wolf.

“Shit!” Ein spun, bolting up two more flights, boots pounding on the rotting steps. His breath tore out in gasps.
“Oh shit, oh shit—” He swerved left, barreling down a narrow corridor, then cut right—only to hit a dead end.

The sign above the blocked hallway read: "Chapel."

He shoved through the nearest left-hand door. “Okay, okay, okay—”

The hallway ahead was short. His pulse roared in his ears as claws scraped behind him.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit—”

He threw himself through the next door and slammed it shut. A low growl vibrated against the wood, but the wolf didn’t break through.

Ein was still catching his breath when a distant bang echoed through the decaying building. He froze.

“Wha—”

He turned toward a massive glass window, framed with intricate metalwork. The glass was shattered, jagged shards glittering across the floor. Beyond it, in a cavernous chamber, a cement platform rose from the center of the room, stairs spiraling up to a chest sitting dead center.

Ein climbed down the fractured steps, wincing as the second set had collapsed into rubble—forcing him to drop the last few feet. His feet crunched on dust and glass.
“Oh, great… guess I’m back here,” he muttered, realizing he was in the asylum’s main floor again.

The massive double doors loomed ahead. He swiped the keycard through the reader—beep—and the locks disengaged.

He stepped forward—

A white wolf exploded from the side, snapping inches from his arm. Ein leapt back, the beast pacing, barking, foam glistening at its jaws.

“Easy, boy… easy…”

The wolf’s ears twitched, but it didn’t attack again. Slowly, it turned and padded away toward a corner, still watching him with sharp yellow eyes.

Ein’s gaze caught on a tattered green jacket hanging from a wire fence. He slipped it on over his black wife-beater, the heavy fabric cutting the bite of the wind that whistled through the broken windows.

Through a hole in the wire, he spotted a desk—and on it, a handgun. A cement block propped up a wooden plank just out of reach. He yanked the block free, and the plank collapsed, sending the gun clattering toward him. Six bullets loaded.

“Nice,” he murmured. Maybe his luck was turning.

On his way back across the room, he passed a single chair beside a dusty cigar box.
“Ahh… the stogie stash exposed,” he quipped under his breath.

Finally, he climbed the platform to the chest. His breath hitched. Inside was a grotesque collection—piles of bones and several bowls filled with strips of pale, leathery skin.

“Guess this is what he feeds them…”

He plucked one of the bones and returned to the wolf, which now crouched low, ears flattened. Ein’s own muscles tensed.

“Here, wolfie,” he said—Zane’s nickname for him slipping out before he could stop it, hitting him like a gut punch. His throat tightened.

The wolf crept forward, sniffed the bone, and finally took it.

“There’s a good boy… that’s right.”

Ein crouched, fingers brushing through the coarse fur between the creature’s ears. It huffed once, low and hungry, before burying its muzzle into its grisly meal. He stepped back, letting it feast.

The center of the room drew him next—dust, shadows, and at the far end, a wire-mesh door secured with a rusted padlock. A battered blue-and-white sign beside it read: EXIT.

He raised his pistol, sighting down at the lock.

Bang!

The shot cracked through the building, echoing off the concrete. The lock burst, the door swinging open on stiff hinges.

Ein slipped through, bare feet silent on the cold floor, and took a left—only to find himself facing a dead end, a murky puddle rippling at its base. He turned sharply toward a set of open double doors.

Inside, the space was almost empty save for a grand staircase curling down into the dark. He descended, eyes scanning the two branching hallways below. Right first, then a quick left.

Another wire door waited ahead, blocked by a barrel. He shoved it aside, the metal scraping. It tipped, spilling with a heavy clang! Dark oil sloshed out across the floor.

Ein spotted the padlock on the door, lifted his gun, and fired. Sparks burst from the impact, scattering into the slick.

“Shit—” he hissed, stepping back.

Flames roared up, racing across the floor to the cluster of barrels beyond. The door was forced open, but the fire reached the far containers, igniting them.

Ein spun, bolting just as a thunderous BOOM tore through the room. The blast hurled him forward, heat licking his back as he hit the ground hard.

Chapter 13: wheres Aphmau?

(00:22) (sasha POV)

Sasha descended the narrow staircase, her boots creaking against the old wood.

“Was she up there?” Gene asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“No,” Sasha said, shaking her head. Her voice trembled. “I didn’t find Aaron either.” She was still shivering, her shirt stiff with the drying blood of Zenix. The crimson stains caught the light like rust.

“Shit. We gotta find them,” Gene muttered, his tone clipped.

Sasha nodded, starting to walk—when the candles mounted along the wall suddenly flared to life. The flames shot upward with a hiss.

She let out a startled yell, stumbling back. “Did… did that just happen?”

“Dammit, what is going on around here?!” Gene snapped, pushing forward down a set of grand stairs, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous space.

Sasha followed, eyes catching on an old photo hanging crooked on the wall—Garroth with his arm around Zane’s shoulders, both smirking, while Vlad laughed beside them. The image was warm, human… jarringly out of place here. She tore her gaze away and hurried to catch up.

“Gene,” she called, her voice softer. “Back there in the shed… I know how hard that was. Zenix was our friend.”

“Sasha, stop,” Gene said sharply, not looking back.

“No, I wanted to say—thank you. You saved my life.”

He growled under his breath. “What was I gonna do? Just stand there? I couldn’t let anything happen to you, okay?”

They stepped into a dim theater room.

“Look… just, are you okay?” he asked.

“I mean… yeah. It’s just… I know you and Zenix were really close.”

“Let’s just find the others. That’s what we’re doing now.” His eyes shifted to the ground. “Hey, look at this.”

Sasha walked over, seeing shards of porcelain glittering under the low light. “Whoa… what happened?”

“Looks like someone fought back,” Gene said, rising to his feet.

“Maybe they went through that door.” She pointed to the far wall where a door hung slightly ajar.

“Most likely.”

They stepped through—and the door slammed shut behind them with a thunderous bang. Sasha yelped, leaping back.

Gene’s jaw tightened, but he kept walking. Sasha spotted another door ahead and pushed, managing only a few inches before it, too, slammed in her face.

“This is so messed up,” Gene muttered behind her.

Teeth gritted, she turned left into another hallway. The door at the far end creaked open by itself. They exchanged a glance before stepping through.

Something shifted in the corner of Sasha’s vision. She gasped, bumping hard into Gene.

“Did you see that?”

“See what?”

“That! Gene!” She pointed toward the darkened edge of the hall. “It was like a see-through shape… like a ghost.”

Gene rolled his eyes. “Oh boy.”

“I’m serious! Why don’t you believe me?!”

“Because we’ve been through hell tonight, okay? My mind’s fried, your mind’s fried. I don’t even trust what I’ve been seeing.”

“You’re wrong. I saw it. And I’m sure.”

He sighed. “Alright. Maybe you did see something. Let’s just keep our heads.”

“Are we going crazy down here?” she asked, running her hands through her hair.

“It’s the only place the others could be.”

“I wish we could just go find everyone else and—”

“What if they need us? What if they’re in trouble?” Gene’s voice cut through hers.

Sasha scoffed. “Since when are you the guy who plays hero?”

Before he could respond, a door next to them swung open.

“Alright then… let’s go,” he muttered.

Concrete stairs spiraled downward, one step broken clean through. They sidestepped it and reached the bottom, the air colder here, heavier. A loud metallic bang echoed somewhere ahead.

They pressed on into a mostly empty chamber—until the doors of an old closet burst open, slamming against the wall. Both screamed, stumbling back.

“What the hell is going on?!” Sasha gasped, turning—only to see a child’s wooden rocking horse creaking forward and back on its own.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, covering her mouth.

“You walked into it, right? Knocked it over?” Gene asked, forcing a skeptical tone.

“I… I don’t think so.-I don’t know!”

“How did everything get so creepy around here? Doors slamming, candles lighting themselves, that… that specter—”

They entered a narrow hallway lined with dusty wine bottles. One at the end was shattered, yet perfectly upright.

“Sasha, I think you’re ignoring what’s really going on here—”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t see that translucent white figure pass right by us!”

“We could be seeing things!”

“I’m not imagining things!”

“I saw things too… I saw Zenix in the cabin!”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” she whispered, catching up with him.

“You know what I’m really worried about? The others. What happened to Aphmau? Hell, even Zane. Who knows if that doaf is keeping Zane safe? If there’s some maniac out there—”

“Zane?! That’s who you’re worried about?” Sasha snapped, whirling around—then froze.

A pale, translucent person glided across the far hallway.

“Gene! The ghost!” she cried, pointing wildly.

Gene spun around—saw nothing.

“What?”

“You didn’t see it?!”

“No.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Sasha, calm down! There’s no ghost here! You’re freaked out because of what happened to Zenix—”

“You’re not paying attention! I saw it!”

“What, you think it followed us from the séance?”

“Maybe!”

“Well it didn’t. Ghosts don’t exist. Okay?”

She stared at him. “Then who was talking to us at the séance, Gene?”

“I… I don’t know.”

A woman’s scream rang down the hall. They both whipped toward the sound just as a framed picture flew from the wall, crashing to the floor.

“How does that happen?!” Sasha demanded.

They edged toward the noise. A key now hung from a hook above a desk where moments ago there had been nothing.

“That wasn’t there before… right?” she muttered, taking it.

Her breath caught. The ghost stood in the hall again.

“There! Gene!”

This time, he saw it.

“Wow, that’s…” He trailed off, frozen.

“See?! The ghost is trying to help us!”

They followed it back to the empty room, where a dollhouse rested against the wall—a perfect replica of the Ro’Meave house.

“Gene, look at this!”

“What? Tiny furniture?”

“No. It’s a whole scene.” She pointed at the four dolls inside.

Gene leaned closer, his expression hardening. As sasha opened the circle window at the top reviling a keyhole she shoves the key they found in it before pulling open the front of the house. Seeing three dolls sat in a miniature living room—Aphmau and Aaron asleep on the couch, Garroth in the middle holding a paper. Under the bed upstairs, Sasha and Zenix dolls clutched a camera. Gene’s doll stood in the center of the room, staring toward a Zane doll at the door.

His throat tightened. “That’s us. Three years ago.”

“It’s exactly where I was hiding… and there’s Zenix…”

“This was set up by someone who was there.”

“Or something watching us.”

“Maybe it’s a warning. Or maybe it’s someone trying to screw with our heads.”

The Zane doll’s eyes suddenly snapped open.

They both jumped back as the attic hatch above them creaked open. Inside, something waited—black leather binding catching the faint light.

A diary.

Sasha’s fingers brushed against the dusty cover before she pulled it free. The black leather was worn smooth at the edges, the corners bent from years of handling. A faint silver “Z” was scratched into the cover — clumsy, almost childlike.

Her throat tightened.
“…It’s… it’s Zane’s diary,” she whispered.

She flicked it open carefully, the pages brittle but still smelling faintly of ink and paper.
The first entry she read was scrawled in uneven cursive handwriting.

03-04-11
Mom’s making me learn how to cook. She says it’s for my future, but I think… I think she noticed I’ve been pulling away. She’s trying. I don’t know how to tell her I’m not worth it.

Sasha’s lips pressed into a thin line before she turned the page.

04-26-11
OMG — Gene said they might let me into the Shadow Knights! I’ve been practicing so much. Maybe if I’m good enough… maybe he’ll want to hang out with me more.
Little hearts surrounded Gene’s name, drawn in the margin.

She hesitated before turning to the next one.

01-15-12
I can’t believe everyone’s coming up on the mountain. It’s going to be so fun! Snowball fights, games, everything… And OMG Gene — I can’t wait to spend time with him. I’ve been smiling all day just thinking about it.
I feel like this year might finally be different.

The ink trailed slightly, as if the pen had been pressed too hard, leaving tiny dents in the paper.

Sasha winced and shut the diary, her chest heavy. She didn’t look at Gene — and he didn’t ask to see the pages. His mouth opened like he might say something, but the moment was crushed by the sound of a slow, creaking hinge somewhere in the dark.

“…Let’s just go,” Gene muttered, his voice low, almost swallowed by the thick, damp air. He moved ahead without looking back, the soles of his boots grinding against the concrete.

The next hallway was long and narrow. Sasha’s gaze caught on a door at the far end, hanging crooked on rusted hinges, its surface mottled with peeling paint.

The door was slightly ajar.

She stepped forward cautiously, brushing past a section of wall where the wallpaper curled away like old skin. Her hand barely touched the door when a shape exploded into the space before her—a woman, or what might have once been one. Her face was stretched unnaturally long, the jaw hanging open to reveal an endless black void that screamed in a high, piercing shriek. The sound wasn’t just loud—it was inside Sasha’s skull, vibrating in her teeth.

And then she was gone.

Sasha’s scream tore from her throat as she stumbled back. Gene moved past her quickly, slipping through the gap before the door slammed shut in her face with a crack that rattled the hallway.

“GENE?!” Sasha shouted, grabbing the handle, yanking with both hands.

It finally jerked open—Gene standing on the other side, expression unreadable. “Nothing,” he said flatly.

Sasha’s chest heaved. “But you did see it. Gene, for real?”

He hesitated, eyes flicking down the hall. “…I saw… something.”

They kept walking, their steps echoing unnaturally in the narrow space. Sasha drifted toward the side of the room where a single metal shelf sat crooked against the wall. Its surface was dusty, except for one item: a thin book that looked newer than everything else around it.

“Hey, look at this—it doesn’t seem as old as most of the stuff down here,” she said.

Gene stepped closer, peering over her shoulder. “It’s… a catalog? For industrial lightbulbs?”

“That’s so random,” she murmured, flipping it open. Her brow furrowed. “Hey… one of the bulbs is circled.”

She set the book down on the shelf, spotting a pair of rusted scissors lying next to it. Without thinking, she slipped them into the pocket of her grey jacket.

By the far wall, stacks of boxes leaned precariously, smelling faintly of mildew. She moved a couple aside, only to freeze.

“The fuck…”

A video camera sat there, pointed directly at them, its small red light blinking steadily.

Gene’s head turned sharply.

“You think it was those guys?” Sasha asked, her voice tight.

“Well… that’d make sense, I guess,” Gene said, though he didn’t sound convinced.

“I don’t like being watched.”

Gene rolled his eyes and turned the camera toward one of the boxes. “Better?”

Sasha snatched it up, glaring into the lens. “Choke on a dick,” she hissed, before setting it back down so it faced the box. “Now it’s better.”

She followed Gene into another room lined with rusted metal shelving. On the nearest one sat the cracked porcelain head of a doll, its paint flaking away, the sockets where eyes should have been gaping and dark.

“Just when you think it can’t get creepier,” Sasha muttered, picking it up—only to choke back a gasp as cockroaches spilled from the empty sockets, skittering over her fingers. She dropped it instantly, the brittle head shattering against the concrete.

They pressed on. Another hallway stretched ahead, the plaster on the walls buckling outward in jagged bulges. From the far end, Gene emerged through a half-broken door. Sasha reached him just as the ground beneath them trembled, dust raining from the ceiling. Somewhere in the distance, a deep crash echoed through the building.

“What was that…?” she whispered.

They stepped into a massive room. A huge metal door loomed open at the far side, boxes piled high around it like barricades.

“Gene… I don’t know if I want to keep going.”

He didn’t stop, leading her into a hallway that felt like stepping into another building entirely—walls half-collapsed, chunks of rubble scattered across the floor, the air colder.

“Where in the world are we now? Did you know this was here?”

“This? This is like a whole other house. I had no idea this was here.”

They passed a doorway blocked by a stained mattress. The dampness clung to their palms as they climbed over it. Sasha glanced upward, expecting to see water dripping, but there was no leak.

They moved deeper.

At the end of another hallway, something small gleamed on the floor. Sasha bent down. “Oh god… it’s Aphmau’s promise ring. She never takes it off.” She shoved it into her pocket.

“We gotta find her,” Gene said quickly.

“Fast,” Sasha agreed.

They entered a room where thick pillars had been snapped in half, the twisted wire skeletons jutting out like exposed nerves. A cardboard box sat on a broken table, half the packaging torn away to reveal stacks of newspapers.

“Hey… I think these are fake,” Sasha said, turning one over to check the date. The ink smelled too fresh. She shook her head. “Why would anybody make fake newspapers?”

“That’s a really good question,” Gene muttered.

At the top of a wide, cracked staircase, Sasha stopped.

“No. You know what? I’ve had enough. I’m not going down any further into this nightmare.” Her voice shook.

“Sash… I understand, okay? I’m really creeped out too. But if Aphmau or someone else is down there, we have to find them.”

She stood frozen for a moment, torn. “…Goddamn it.”

“Sasha, come on.”

“Ugh! Why are you always right?” she grumbled, shoving past him.

They descended two flights, the steps crumbling under their weight, before finally stepping onto the cold concrete bottom, the darkness ahead swallowing the rest of the path.

Chapter 14: hows it hanging Travis?

(03:00) (Travis POV)

Travis felt cold at first—icy sweat sticking to his skin—but then something hot and sharp brushed past his face. The world swayed like a ship on a stormy sea, his head throbbing with blood rushing downward.

He blinked hard, the blur clearing just enough to realize the truth: he was hanging upside down, one ankle bound tight with rope, suspended from the burning tower above.

“Oh, Irene…” His voice cracked, half a prayer, half a curse. The flames crackled above him, throwing sparks into the air like fireflies. Below was only black emptiness, the cavern floor far, far away.

“Dante! Dante!!” Travis shouted, his voice hoarse, swallowed by the roar of the inferno.

He twisted, eyes darting, searching for anything—something. That’s when he spotted it: a rusted metal ladder jutting out of the stone wall, just a foot away from his swinging body.

“Shit.”

He swung once, fingers stretching. Missed. The ladder’s cold metal scraped his nails as he passed it.

“Oh, come on!” he snarled, pumping his body harder, ignoring the firelight stinging his eyes. On the next swing, his fingertips caught. His arm burned with effort as he latched on tight.

And then he felt it—snap.

The rope gave way. His body lurched, gravity yanking him down. The flames licked his face as he clung to the ladder, coughing on the smoke.

“Don’t… look down…” he muttered to himself, heart hammering. He climbed across, metal groaning under his weight, until his feet scraped the edge of a narrow platform. He scrambled onto it just as a flaming timber broke loose from above.

The beam crashed down. Heat seared across his cheek. He let go and dropped, slamming onto the ground with a guttural yell. The breath ripped from his lungs.

When his eyes fluttered open, the tower above loomed through the cavern’s opening, fire tearing through its hollow center. The wood groaned, shifting, ready to collapse.

Move!

He scrambled to sit up, but a jagged piece of falling metal crashed onto his leg. Pain exploded through his knee, white-hot.

“Shit!” he screamed, clutching at the torn fabric of his jeans as blood began to seep through.

The tower gave one final scream before collapsing in full, slamming into the cavern floor where Travis had been seconds before. Metal split, stone cracked, and fire scattered. The shockwave rattled the ground beneath him.

Travis dragged himself back, knee screaming in protest, and forced himself upright. The denim around the wound was soaked crimson now, his breath ragged. Ahead, darkness yawned—the entrance to some kind of mine, the only way forward.

He tore a strip from his filthy white shirt, wrapped it around a chunk of wood, dipped it in a half-smashed oil barrel, and lit it with the flames still dancing around him. The makeshift torch hissed, caught fire, and sputtered weakly but enough to cast light.

“Alright… gotta find Dante,” he muttered, limping into the black mouth of the mine.

Inside, the air was damp, thick with the smell of rust and oil. Barrels lined the walls, slick with flammable residue. “Let’s really hope those don’t go up,” Travis whispered, torchlight shaking with his unsteady grip.

Then he heard it.

A sound that didn’t belong. Nails—or claws—scraping against stone.

His breath caught. “…Dante?”

No answer.

He followed a hand-painted sign pointing toward an elevator, its crude arrow smeared with charcoal. He limped onward, passing splintered stairs that groaned under his weight. Each step shot agony up his broken knee until sweat trickled down his temple.

“How many fucking stairs are there!?” he hissed through gritted teeth.

At the bottom, he found another barrier—a wooden wall. He shoved a mine cart, rusted but still on its rails, until it groaned to life, rolling forward. The crash when it hit the barrier shook the tunnel, splintering the wall apart.

Through the gap was an elevator platform, lit weakly by an oil lantern mounted to a post. He lit it with his torch, but when he pulled the lever, nothing moved.

“Shit. Okay… how do I get this thing on?” His voice bounced around the cavern, fragile against the silence.

A moment later, whoosh! A burst of flame cut across the air above him, searing the shadows like a flamethrower. Travis yelped, stumbling back.

“AH! What the hell!?” His eyes darted frantically, but the fire was already gone.

The silence after was worse than the flames.

A creak echoed from above. He spotted a ladder, old wood bolted to the wall. He tucked his torch in a safe metal corner and began climbing. His arms shook, but he made it up—until the ladder gave way.

CRACK!

He fell. The wood splintered under him, the floor breaking as he slammed down through it, sliding helplessly off a ledge. He landed on his side, his knee shattering with pain so intense his vision went white.

“Fuck… definitely broken…” His voice was little more than a whimper now.

He pulled out his phone, screen cracked but still glowing. A photo filled the lock screen—him and Dante at an amusement park, slushies in hand, smiles wide. His thumb trembled over the image before he flicked on the flashlight.

And froze.

The light fell across piles of bones. Dozens. Skulls staring blankly, ribcages collapsed into dust. His stomach lurched, bile rising.

“No… no no no…” Travis pressed against the wall, shaking his head. “Fuck… disgusting…”

He stumbled forward, torchlight sweeping across skulls nailed to posts, their hollow eyes following him.

“Dante…” His voice cracked as he called out again.

The tunnel ended in a crude barricade of nailed planks. He planted his good leg, slammed his shoulder against it. Pain tore through him, but the wood held.

“Am I doing this wrong!?” he growled through clenched teeth.

Another slam. Wood splintered.

A third, and it broke.

Travis stumbled forward, falling hard onto the ground beyond. His injured knee struck stone, and the scream that left him echoed long into the dark. His world tilted, breath growing shallow.

Then—blackness.

Chapter 15: ghost?

(02:24) (sasha POV)

 

They reached the bottom of the stairs, the concrete floor slick with condensation, their breath puffing faintly in the freezing air. Moonlight seeped weakly through the warped, splintering wooden walls, casting thin, skeletal beams across the corridor. Each step echoed too loudly, as if the hall itself was hollow and listening.

Through a half-open door on the left, Sasha stopped dead. Two car batteries sat on a rusted cart, wires snaking like veins into timers labeled in smudged ink: Lights and TV. “What the hell…?” she muttered, backing away.

They pushed on, their shadows stretching long behind them, until they reached a fork in the corridor. At the center lay a mannequin sprawled across a wooden slab, its plastic face cracked, one glass eye missing. Dust clung to its broken limbs like ash. Sasha shivered and veered right, but found only a collapsed wall and silence waiting. She swallowed hard and turned back, trailing Gene to the left.

The room they entered was a kitchen—or what was left of one. Rusted pots hung like bones from hooks, bear traps snapped open on the walls like hungry mouths. The tiled floor was broken, black mold spreading like rot through the cracks. A sudden BANG made both of them jump—the door behind them had slammed shut on its own. The air grew instantly heavier.

Sasha’s eyes caught movement on the far wall. She hurried over, her stomach dropping. “Gene—look! That’s us.”

Pinned in neat rows were photographs of everyone who had come to the mountain. Their own faces smiled back at them, though some were scratched out, scarred, defaced. Zenix’s picture had a jagged white X gouged over his eyes, red paint—or blood—splattered across the wall behind it.

Gene rushed over, his face pale. “What is this, a fucking hit list!? Christ…”

They turned, passing shelves stacked with mannequin torsos, arms jutting from boxes like corpses half-buried. Against the wall sat a heavy wooden door. Gene strode past, but Sasha lingered, her gut pulling her toward it. With a shove, it creaked open, dust puffing into the air. Inside sat an old film projector, its reel still threaded. She hesitated, then flipped the switch. The machine groaned, sputtered, then whirred to life, casting shaky light onto the wall.

Gene came up behind her, tense. “Sorry,” Sasha muttered quickly, but her apology died on her lips as the image flickered into clarity.

“Oh god… Gene, it’s the video.”

There they were—younger versions of themselves—Zenix giggling under the bed, her own laughter bright. Gene sat by the door in the footage, smirking like he’d known everything.

“I never looked back at this video…” Sasha whispered, her throat tightening. “He looked so excited.”

On screen, Zane stepped shyly into the room, cheeks pink, eyes darting nervously.

“He had no idea…” Gene muttered, voice low, guilt cutting through the words.

“It was supposed to just be a stupid prank! And that’s all it was!” Sasha argued, but her voice cracked. The room felt colder. “I don’t know why they all got so upset—” She cut herself off, because deep down, she knew. She would’ve reacted the same way.

“I never want to see this video again…” she whispered, but before she could move, Zane turned toward the camera.

The tape flickered. His face warped, stretched, then tore apart into the screaming visage of the woman’s ghost. Her mouth opened wide in an inhuman screech.

Both of them screamed, stumbling back. The projector clicked off with a hiss, plunging them into silence.

“What is going on!?” Sasha cried, clutching her head.

Gene grabbed her shoulders. “Sasha, slow down, okay?”

“I can’t handle this—the ghost, the videos, everything flying around—it’s too much!” she sobbed, shoving her fingers into her tangled white hair.

“Calm down, just listen to me for a second!” Gene snapped.

“What!? Calm down? Why the hell should I calm down, Gene?!” she shouted, voice breaking.

“This has to be someone messing with us!” Gene barked back. “Think about it—ghosts don’t set up cameras, they don’t splice videos, they don’t play games!”

Sasha froze, his words sinking in. “Then who… who would set this all up? Seriously. I’m asking.”

“Hmm… I don’t know. Maybe the same guys who tied you up… and killed Zenix.”

Her chest dropped. “…Oh. Right.”

“The same people who might still have the others,” Gene pressed.

“…Maybe you’re right,” she whispered.

“I wish I wasn’t,” he muttered.

They moved on, the hallway closing in around them, until Gene suddenly halted. His eyes fixed on the floor. A trail of blood smeared across the cracked tiles, leading to a heavy door warped in its frame. Dried handprints streaked its metal surface.

“Oh god! Blood?” Sasha gasped.

“Might be Aphmau’s,” Gene said grimly, yanking at the door. It groaned, barely budging. “Damn thing’s stuck—ugh, I can just about squeeze through.” He shoved his shoulder, scraping through the gap. “Come on, Sasha, quick—I can’t hold it—”

But Sasha had turned her head. Down the hall, something pale flickered in the dark. A figure. She gasped. “Oh, Gene! I think I saw Aphmau!”

“What? Are you sure!?” Gene strained, his fingers white on the door’s edge.

“I—I don’t know, but we have to check!”

“Well I’m pretty sure whoever’s bleeding came through here, okay? So we need to move, now!” Gene’s voice cracked as the door started to slip.

Sasha’s heart hammered as she glanced back and forth—hallway or door, figure or blood. “Shit—okay, okay!” She darted through, just as the door slammed behind her with a bone-rattling clang.

“Thank god, I thought that thing was gonna crush me,” Gene muttered, catching his breath.

The room was worse than the last. Fallen shelves blocked their path, twisted metal scattered across the floor. In the corner, a generator thrummed faintly, blasting waves of freezing air into the already frigid space.

“I don’t get it,” Sasha whispered, hugging herself. “Why would anyone make this place colder?”

“God only knows what’s in these psychos’ heads,” Gene muttered, sticking close.

They moved into the next chamber—and both froze.

Hanging from the ceiling, a scarecrow dangled by a noose, its burlap face torn open to reveal a rotting human skull beneath. Flies buzzed in the hollow sockets.

“Wait… is it wearing Aphmau’s clothes?!” Sasha’s voice cracked.

“Yeah, those are hers, but… that’s just—” Gene faltered.

“Sick,” Sasha finished, her stomach churning.

Gene shoved the scarecrow’s shoulder roughly, making it sway. “So the psycho has been down here.”

“Do you think he’s still here?” Sasha whispered, pressing closer to him.

“…I hope not,” Gene said, but his eyes flicked nervously into the shadows.

They pressed forward, past dangling pig carcasses split open, ribs gleaming like jagged white fingers. The smell of rot clung thick in the air. Sasha gagged, covering her mouth as they approached a set of heavy double doors.

“Aphmau? Garroth?” she called hoarsely, pushing them open.

Inside, in the center of the room, Aphmau sat tied to a chair, limp, still wrapped in her towel.

Sasha bolted to her, spinning the chair around. “Hello? Aph?” Panic twisted her face. “Gene—is she dead? Holy shit—”

“Shit.” Gene crouched, checking quickly. “No—no, she’s not dead.”

“How do you know!?” Sasha’s voice shook.

“She’s still breathing.”

“Then what the hell is wrong with her?”

“I think she’s been knocked out,” Gene muttered, scanning the room with sharp eyes. “We need to get her out—now.”

But before they could move, a masked man lunged from the shadows, grabbing Gene by the back of the head. The needle plunged into his neck before he could react. His phone clattered to the floor, the light extinguishing, leaving them in near-darkness.

“Gene!” Sasha screamed, snatching the phone, swinging its weak glow at the figure. Gene lay twitching on the floor, breath ragged.

“Stay the hell away from me!” she yelled, pulling scissors from her pocket.

The masked man advanced, a second syringe glinting in his hand. Desperate, Sasha stabbed him in the shoulder. He cried out, staggering back.

“Oh no, no, no!” the man hissed, clutching the wound. His masked face tilted toward her, voice low and taunting. “Live and learn.”

Before Sasha could react, his fist cracked across her eye. Pain exploded white-hot, and she dropped, the world collapsing into black.

Chapter 16: wakey wakey~

(03:11) (gene POV) 

“Ugh… my head…” Gene groaned, lifting it slowly. His legs were strapped to a chair, one arm bound tight against the table in front of him. A gun sat in the center, gleaming under the harsh light.

Blinking, he turned his head. Sasha sat across from him, tied down, unconscious. A camera’s red light blinked in the corner.

Then Gene looked up.
“Oh, shit.”

A massive saw blade hung just feet above Sasha’s head. His chest tightened, breath quickening. Another blade hovered above him.

“Sasha! Sasha!” His voice cracked. She twitched, then blinked awake.

“Shit—Sash, what did he do to you?” Gene rasped, spotting the blackened bruise swelling around her eye.

“I… I think he hit me,” she muttered, dazed.

“I’ll kill him,” Gene growled.

Her eyes darted upward. “Oh god, Gene—we’re gonna die!” Her voice broke into a sob.

“No one’s dying,” Gene snapped, forcing calm.

“I don’t wanna die!” Sasha screamed, struggling against the restraints. “There’s so much I haven’t done—I don’t wanna die in some basement!”

“Pull it together!” Gene barked, though his own pulse hammered in his ears. Not like this. Not before I tell Zane… His thoughts spiraled—until the blades above roared to life with a deafening whir.

“Oh god!” Gene gasped.

“Help, Gene!!” Sasha cried, thrashing.

“I’ll get us out—”

“Hello, subjects.” The male voice slithered through the room, cold and cruel.

Sasha’s lips trembled. “I’m scared, Gene.”

“Don’t be,” Gene said through clenched teeth.

“Oh, but you should be,” the voice taunted. “Here’s the game: Gene already made one fatal choice today. Now, another. Pick up the gun. Shoot Sasha, and live. Or shoot yourself, and let her go. Only one survives.”

Gene’s eyes shot to the gun. His hand trembled as he snatched it, firing two rounds into the blades above. The bullets sparked harmlessly against metal.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the voice sneered.

“No… no, please, Gene!” Sasha’s screams filled the room as he turned the gun toward her. “You saved me once! Don’t make Zenix’s death mean nothing!”

Gene’s jaw clenched. The gun shook in his hand.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Better you than me.”

The gunshot echoed like thunder.

Chapter 17: Wake up!

( 03:05  ) (Aphmau POV)

“Aph! Aphmau!”

The voice cut through the haze in her head. Aphmau blinked, disoriented.

“Huh…?”

“Wake up!” The voice was sharp, urgent.

Her eyes adjusted—through a narrow metal grate in the wall, she saw a dirt-covered, blood-streaked face.

“Ein? Is that you?”

“Shhh!” he hissed, eyes darting.

“What? What’s happening?”

“Get over here,” Ein whispered, motioning frantically.

Dragging her chair across the floor, Aphmau sat by the grate. Ein flicked open a lighter—Zane’s strawberry lighter—and pressed the flame to the ropes binding her wrists.

“Ahh—!” She winced.

“Sorry,” he muttered, pulling back.

Freed, she grabbed the lighter, burning the ropes around her legs. She shoved the chair aside and crouched in front of him, pressing the lighter back into his hand.

“Oh, Ein—thank Lady Irene you found me,” she breathed, shaking.

“You’re okay,” Ein said quickly, though his ragged voice betrayed exhaustion.

“How did you even get down here? How did you find me?”

“There’s some psycho on this mountain,” Ein muttered.

“Yeah—I’ve noticed,” Aphmau cut in, trembling.

“He’s got tunnels—like a nest under the whole place. I was trying to get out when I saw this grate.”

Aphmau swallowed hard. “That guy—he attacked me. He showed me… videos. One of them was Zenix—dead.”

Ein froze. “Holy shit… what the hell is going on here?”

“There’s a door,” he said after a moment, forcing himself steady. “It won’t open from my side. Can you check?”

Aphmau stood, spotting her backpack hanging on a door handle. Slinging it over her shoulder, she twisted the knob. It gave way. Heart pounding, she slipped through, following a short hallway barefoot, every step echoing.

She reached a wooden door barred with a heavy plank. With a grunt, she pried it loose, set it aside, and pushed the door open.

Ein stood there, gaunt and pale, wearing a green jacket torn and filthy.

“Hey,” he muttered.

“God, you look like hell,” Aphmau said, relief breaking through her fear.

“Nice to see you too,” Ein huffed, glancing away.

Aphmau stepped past him, setting her backpack down.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Well, the towel isn’t exactly practical for fighting maniacs,” she said dryly, twirling a finger. “Turn around.”

Ein nodded, spinning on his heel. His ears drooped as he pulled out Zane’s lighter, running his thumb over the metal before clenching his jaw and shoving it back in his pocket.

“Okay—I’m done.” Aphmau tapped his shoulder.

He turned, seeing her now dressed in fitted athletic gear and Aaron’s red hoodie.

“Let’s put this nightmare to bed,” she said with a shaky grin.

“Amen to that,” he answered softly.

A muffled yell broke through the air. “Oh god!”

They froze.

“What was that?” Aphmau whispered, grabbing Ein’s arm.

“Is that… crying?” Ein murmured.

She flicked on a small flashlight from her pack. The beam danced over the walls as they retraced their steps to a heavy metal door. Voices—broken, pleading—filtered through.

“Help me out,” Ein said, pressing his shoulder against it.

Aphmau braced herself beside him, the two of them pushing in unison.

The door groaned, inching open.

Chapter 18: What are you doing here?

(03:15) (gene POV)

Gene heard the door creak open.

Sasha thrashed in her chair, eyes wide, voice raw with panic.
“No! No, no, no! Get away from me!!” she screamed, the sound splitting through the stale air.

Gene snapped his head toward the sound. Two figures in masks slipped into the room, their movements deliberate, slow, like they had all the time in the world. The harsh light caught on the steel buttons of the one in blue, and the other’s shadow stretched long across the floor, spidering up the wall behind Sasha.

Gene’s instincts fired—he jerked the pistol up and squeezed the trigger.

BANG!

The echo cracked through the room like lightning.

But nothing. No blood. No stumble. The masked man in blue just kept walking, unhurried.

Gene’s stomach dropped. His hands trembled around the gun. “What the fuck!?”

The man in blue tilted his head, his voice carrying a cruel, mocking lilt.
“Oh, Gene, Gene, Gene…” He dragged out the name, savoring it. “…You’ve heard of blanks before, right?”

The words slithered through Gene’s ears like poison. 

The masked man circled around the table, boots thudding on the concrete with a steady rhythm. When he stopped, he raised both hands to his face. Fingers hooked under the mask—slow, deliberate.

With a single pull, the mask came free.

Garroth’s face stared back at him.

Gene froze, breath locked in his throat. The world tilted.

Across the room, the second masked figure stood silent, his grip tightening on the mask at his side. He slid it free with a sharp motion, and Laurence’s eyes caught the light— unyielding, locked on Gene.

The gun suddenly felt like dead weight.

Notes:

Sorry, this was short, but I wanted tension lol

Chapter 19: that must hurt

(03:23) (travis POV)

Travis blinked his eyes open, every inch of his body screaming in pain. His head pounded, his ribs ached, and his knee burned like fire. He groaned, rolling onto his side, forcing air back into his lungs.

“I’m… still in here?!” he rasped, his voice echoing faintly in the hollow dark. He reached for the wall, pulling himself up slowly, each movement tearing at his muscles. His phone buzzed weakly in his hand, cracked screen glowing for only a moment before dimming. He’d been out for twenty minutes. Just twenty. It felt like hours.

He sighed and shuffled along the wall, dragging his good leg forward while the broken one dangled painfully. His flashlight flickered across something on the ground—a dented miner’s helmet. He stared at it for a beat, then muttered, “Huh,” before stepping past it. No time. He had to find Dante.

“Dante?!” Travis called out, his voice raw. His words bounced back at him in a cruel mockery. He turned into a branching tunnel and froze—an old family portrait lay face-down in the dirt. Carefully, he bent down, picking it up. Through the dust he could make out a stern father, a tired mother, and two children, smiling faintly. Their eyes seemed to follow him in the dark. He set it back down with a trembling hand and kept moving.

The tunnel opened into a wide chamber. His light caught the jagged end of a rusted ladder embedded in the rock wall above. “Must be the way up…” he whispered, staring at it. His gaze dropped to his knee. Broken, throbbing, useless. He shook his head. He had no choice. What if Dante was up there?

He stuffed his phone into his mouth, gripped the rock wall with both hands, and began to climb, dragging himself upward inch by inch. He kept his broken leg dangling, every scrape of stone against his palms sending fire up his arms. He reached the ladder, hauled himself onto it, and finally collapsed onto the ledge above. His hands shook as he pulled the phone from his mouth, panting.

Ahead, another tunnel stretched out, lined with crooked metal poles holding up the ceiling. “Dante!” Travis called, each syllable cracking from exhaustion. The agony of each step made him dizzy—he felt like he was seconds from passing out again.

The tunnel led him to a wooden walkway that creaked under his weight. A thick pipe ran along the wall, dripping water in steady, rhythmic plinks. Chains dangled from the ceiling, clinking softly as he brushed past. His phone flickered, flashed… then died completely.

“Come on! For fuck’s sake!” Travis snapped, jabbing the button uselessly. The low-battery symbol appeared, mocking him, before going black for good. “Son of a bitch…” He clenched his teeth and shuffled forward in the dark.

Suddenly, a burst of fire roared ahead—flamethrower flames licking into existence for a single blinding second—then vanished. The tunnel returned to silence.

“Shit!” Travis whispered, staggering backward. His pulse thundered in his ears.

His hand brushed against steps carved into the rock. He climbed them slowly, dragging his broken body upward until a faint orange glow came into view—his torch. He grabbed it from where he’d left it jammed into a crack in the wall, relief washing over him at the warm light.

To his right, he spotted the ladder he’d fallen from earlier, still lodged across the broken floor. Near it, a small wooden lever jutted from the ground. Travis limped to it, hesitated, then yanked it up.

With a groan of old wires, the lights strung along the ceiling flickered to life, buzzing dimly. “Finally… something works,” he breathed. His eyes caught another glow—the faint outline of the wooden elevator, its light bulb sputtering weakly. Hope lit in his chest.

He limped toward it but spotted another staircase hidden in shadow, leading deeper down. Against his better judgment, he followed it. At the bottom was another chamber, barrels stacked against the wall, and a yawning doorway of rusted metal. He stepped through and into yet another tunnel.

Through a wire fence on his left, he spotted a barrel with something glinting on top of it. His chest tightened. Something personal. Something important. He moved on, every nerve screaming at him to hurry.

“DANTE!” he shouted again, his voice breaking.

The tunnel ended in a cavern, moonlight spilling down through a jagged hole in the ceiling. Snow and ice covered the far wall, shimmering faintly in the light. Travis stumbled forward, slamming his hands against the frozen surface, trying to claw upward—but his fingers slipped uselessly against the ice.

“Shit!” he cried, sagging against the wall. He looked down and noticed a broken “DANGER” sign half-buried in the dirt. He laughed bitterly, voice shaking. “Lovely. Danger’s my middle-fucking-name.”

He turned to the right. Two barrels rested against the wall, and on top of one lay a photograph. He picked it up—an image of a dark-haired girl smiling, pulling her sleeve up to show a butterfly tattoo. He flipped it over.

When are you getting yours, Beth? the back read in black ink, a smiling face doodled beside it.

Travis’s throat tightened. He set it down carefully, his eyes catching on another object nearby: shattered black glasses, perched on a rotten board.

“Wha—? Is someone else down here?” he muttered. His stomach dropped.

Shoving aside two leaning planks, he found deep scratches carved into the stone wall: 02.02.14. Below it—thirty tally marks dug into the rock.

“Woah…” Travis whispered, stumbling back before leaning closer again. He shuffled into a small alcove, his torch illuminating something half-buried in the dirt: a crude wooden cross. He picked it up and froze.

Scrawled across it in black marker: BETH 2.2.14.

“Oh, Irene…” Travis breathed, setting it back gently, his hands trembling.

He forced himself up a sloping tunnel until another wire fence appeared. On the other side, water poured from a crack in the rock—another underground waterfall. He leaned against the bars, the spray cooling his burning face—when a flamethrower burst erupted in the distance.

“Oh shit!” Travis yelped, stumbling back, pain radiating through his leg until black spots clouded his vision. He blinked, gasping, and turned toward a barrel nearby. Something glittered on top of it—small, metallic.

His heart stopped. A locket. Zane’s locket.

He picked it up, snapping it open with shaking hands. Inside, a small photo of Zane and Ein, smiling. On the other side, the words: To Zane, with love.

Travis’s breath hitched. “H-how the hell did this get here?! ZANE?!” His voice cracked, echoing wildly. He shoved the locket into his pocket, his hands cold and clammy.

A broken wire door loomed ahead. Travis hobbled to it, wrenching it open. His torchlight fell on something small, slumped in the dirt. He stepped closer, breath caught in his throat. A doll. But not just a doll. Its face was covered by a severed human head. Short brown hair. A purple beanie still clinging to it.

“SHIT!” Travis shouted, dropping the doll in horror, bile rising in his throat. He staggered back, shaking violently. Beth. It had to be Beth.

He turned and stumbled into the tunnel on the left, his torch beam shaking. Another drawing of an elevator appeared on the wall, the arrow pointing ahead. Travis followed it, reaching a heavy wooden door. A rusted bolt lock held it shut. His fingers scrabbled against it, forcing it free with a metallic screech. The door groaned open.

The room beyond—familiar. The same one from before. His heart raced as he rushed toward the wooden elevator, slamming the lever down. The lift shuddered and began to rise.

“Fuck yeah! Come on!” Travis cried, a desperate smile tugging at his lips. But then, with a horrible jerk, it stopped. Another floor.

“No… damn it!” Travis slammed his fist against the wall, near tears. He shuffled out, turning the corner—and froze.

A man stood in the tunnel, flamethrower in hand.

Travis pressed himself back against the wall, heart hammering. “Please don’t come this way…” he whispered.

The man stepped forward.

Panic surged through Travis. He bolted, sprinting past the figure despite the searing pain in his leg.

“Get back here,” the man’s voice boomed, distorted.

Travis forced his broken body onward, teeth gritted, until he spotted an opening to the right. He darted down it, boots slamming against the wooden catwalk. Boards splintered beneath him, gaping holes waiting to swallow him whole. He leapt across the gaps, pain exploding through his knee, and hurled himself into another tunnel.

Behind him—a trail of spilled oil. Without thinking, he dropped his torch, flames igniting the slick. Fire roared up, cutting the man off.

Travis stumbled deeper into the tunnel, clutching his knee, vision blurring. He slowed to a walk, breath ragged. Every sound around him was too close, too loud.

Ahead, firelight flickered against the walls. A barrel burned steadily at a dead end.

Travis’s stomach turned cold. Nowhere left to run.

He pressed himself into a narrow gap between two rock walls, heart in his throat.

Footsteps. Heavy. Slow. Stopping directly in front of him.

“…There you are,” the man said.

Chapter 20: what is going on????

(03:20) (Aphmau POV)

 

They  burst into the room, their eyes widening at the sight before them—Gene and Sasha bound to chairs, their wrists strapped to the table, faces pale with fear. Beside them stood Garroth and Laurence, dressed in filthy overalls, green and blue undershirts stained with grime. Garroth was laughing, the sound sharp and manic, echoing off the cold stone walls.

“Garroth! Laurence!” Aphmau shouted, disbelief in her voice.

Ein wasted no time—he sprinted to Sasha first, ripping at the straps until they fell loose. Her hands trembled as she clung to him. He quickly freed Gene too. “The fuck happened to you guys?” Ein asked, his ears twitching sharply, silver jewelry clinking against each other with the motion.

Garroth clapped mockingly. “Incredible—you all remembered my name! After everything you’ve been through! Good. Good, good. Tell me… how does it feel?” His grin was venomous, his steps circling them like a predator.

Laurence wouldn’t look at anyone. His jaw clenched, the vein in it twitching, but when Garroth pressed him, his eyes finally snapped up. “Panicked?,” he said flatly, glaring straight at Gene.

“Yes!” Garroth barked, pointing at him like it was brilliant. “Panicked. Humiliated. Terrified. All those emotions my brother had to feel three years ago!” His voice cracked with anger, his fists trembling.

Ein narrowed his eyes, his voice sharp as broken glass.

 “We’re not laughing. None of us. You put us through hell—and you killed Zenix because of a prank three years ago?!” Sasha’s voice ripped through the tension. shrill and furious. “And why the fuck did you punch me in the eye, Garroth?!”

Garroth’s head snapped toward her, his glare cutting like steel. “Because you stabbed me!” he roared, his chest heaving with rage.

The words slammed into the room, twisting the tension tighter before anyone else could speak.

 “Zenix isn’t dead. We’d never go that far…” Laurence muttered, his eyes flicking nervously toward Garroth.

“Then what the fuck happened, huh?!” Sasha snapped.

“And where’s Aaron?” Aphmau demanded, her stomach sinking with dread. She didn’t want to believe it, but her voice shook with betrayal.

“We gave him a light sedative. He’s knocked out in the room over there,” Laurence explained, nodding toward a hidden door. “As for Zenix…”

Garroth cut him off, smirking like it was a game. “For Zenix, we slipped a blood bag under his shirt while he was out cold, and swapped the bullets for a tranq. He only thought he was shot. The betrayal? The fear? Oh, it was perfect. Maybe he should tell you himself—since he’s been watching everything.”

The hidden door creaked open. Everyone turned.

Zenix stepped into the room. His shirt was smeared with dried blood, a hole torn right above his heart. His eyes were blazing. “Better you than me?!” he yelled, locking onto Gene. “Come on, man! First you pull the trigger on me, then on Sasha? What the fuck?!”

Gene stumbled back, hands shaking. “I’m not the one to be mad at! They made this happen!” He pointed wildly at Garroth and Laurence.

“At least they had a reason!” Zenix shouted, his voice breaking. “And I already told him off—and got my free shot in!” His fury shook in his chest, but his eyes still screamed betrayal.

Aphmau’s voice cut in like a whip. “Which one of you chased me? Knocked me out?” She glared at both of them, fury simmering.

Laurence hesitated, then raised his hand. His eyes dropped. “Sorry, Aph. I didn’t want Garroth to hurt you in his anger. I didn’t want you here at all, but…” His voice trailed off into a guilty whisper.

“You two did this?” Ein’s voice was low, guttural. His gaze hardened until it burned like fire.

“Yep.” Garroth smirked, though confusion flickered in his eyes. “But how the hell are you here? You were supposed to be watching Zane all night…”

The air shifted in an instant. Ein’s face twisted, his lips peeling back to bare his fangs. He lunged, slamming Garroth against the wall so hard the wood cracked. “YOU KILLED ZANE, YOU BITCH!” he roared. His voice shook the room. “I WILL FUCKING GUT YOU!”

The smirk evaporated from Garroth’s face. His body stiffened. The words hit him like a knife through the chest. His blood turned to ice. “...What?” he whispered, his voice breaking.

The room went dead silent.

Laurence stared at Ein, voice trembling. “What… what happened to Zane, Ein?”

“Like you fucks don’t already know!” Ein snarled, shoving Garroth harder.

“No—we don’t!” Laurence snapped, desperation rising. “The last time we saw him was when you guys left for the other cabin!”

Garroth’s voice was barely audible. “What happened to my baby brother, Ein?” His hands shook violently.

Ein’s throat tightened, but he spat the words out anyway. “He was ripped from the cabin. Dragged through the mines. Before—before he fell to his death.” His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. 

“NO.” Garroth’s voice cracked. His body shook, eyes glossing with tears he couldn’t hold back. He blinked furiously, as if he could erase the truth. “Don’t lie to me. DON’T FUCKING LIE TO ME!” His breath came in ragged gasps, his chest caving under the weight of panic. He staggered, curling into himself, rocking as his mind shattered under the words. “No, no, no, no…” His sobs tore out of him like broken glass.

“Gar, he’s lying—he has to be,” Laurence whispered, clutching at him, his own panic cracking through.

“IM NOT FUCKING LYING! AND IT’S YOUR FAULT!” Ein screamed, his body trembling with rage as Aphmau grabbed his arm, trying to pull him back.

“Ein! Stop!” Aphmau shouted, gripping him hard. Her voice shook, but she forced it to steady. “We don’t know that. Yes, they tormented us, but I don’t think they would ever kill Zane. They did all of this because of Zane.”

But Garroth wasn’t listening. He rocked back and forth on the floor, broken sobs spilling out as he clawed at his hair.

The heavy creak of a door echoed.

Aaron stumbled out, his hand rubbing his head, blinking against the light. His eyes swept the room, confusion spreading across his bloodied face. “What the hell happened? And how the fuck did we even get here?” His voice was raw, tired. He looked at Aphmau—her face streaked with tears, clothes dirty but intact—and his chest ached.

“Aaron!” Aphmau ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. Her sobs broke against his shoulder. “Thank Irene—you’re alive. I thought I lost you!”

He wrapped his arms around her, dazed. “I don’t understand. Where are Dante and Travis?”

The question froze the room.

“They… they went to get help down the mountain,” Gene muttered, glaring daggers at Garroth and Laurence.

“Then they should have been back by now,” Laurence said, his face paling. “We shut off the cable car. Took the key.”

Aphmau’s stomach dropped. Her voice was a whisper. “Then… where are they?”

Aaron’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, clearly I missed a lot. Somebody explain—”

“Gladly!” Gene snapped, rage boiling over. “Those two fuckers put us through hell, made me believe I killed Zenix and Sasha, probably got Travis and Dante killed, and let the guy who was supposed to protect Zane get him KILLED!”

“They made you, huh?!” Zenix shouted, his fury reigniting.

Sasha whirled on Gene, her voice shrill with betrayal. “You were gonna shoot me! Just like Zenix! All because you wanted Zane!”

“Excuse me?!” Ein’s head snapped toward Gene, his fangs bared again.

Garroth shoved himself to his feet, leaning on Laurence for support.

 “Oh, come on! Let it go—they’re the killers here!” Gene shouted defensively.

The room exploded into chaos—everyone screaming, everyone pointing fingers, fury swallowing reason.

“ENOUGH!” Aphmau’s voice thundered above the noise. Everyone froze, chests heaving, eyes locked on her.

Her body shook, but her voice was iron. “This will not help. Yes, Garroth and Laurence are assholes, and yes, they should never have done this. But Travis and Dante might be lost out there—maybe dying. And there’s still a chance Zane is alive. We need to go upstairs. Calm down. Make a plan. Because nothing—nothing—will change if we tear each other apart in here.”

The silence that followed was heavy, fragile, straining under the weight of distrust and rage. But one by one, they looked at each other, anger still burning but fear beginning to take root.

No one trusted anyone.

But they all knew Aphmau was right.

Chapter 21: Travis? you holding on?

 

(04:01) (travis POV)

“…There you are,” the man’s voice rasped, low and urgent. His hand shot out, clamping around Travis’s arm with a grip that was far too strong. He yanked hard, trying to drag him out of the shadows.

Travis screamed, thrashing, his voice breaking with raw panic. “LET GO OF ME!”

“Shhh!” the stranger hissed, eyes wild, spittle flying as he pressed his finger to his lips. “Quiet, damn you—”

“Get away from me, asshole!” Travis shouted, jerking his arm free. His voice cracked through the cavern like glass shattering, echoing into the darkness.

That was when he heard it—

A screech. Long. Piercing. Inhuman. It rattled down the tunnel walls, vibrating through the stone, making Travis’s stomach seize in terror. Something moved in the dark, fast. Too fast.

“Quiet! They’ll hear you!” the man spat, whipping his head toward the sound. His eyes went wide—too wide. Panic filled every crease of his face.

Before Travis could bolt, the stranger shoved something heavy into his chest—a leather satchel—and with one violent push, shoved him backward.

Travis stumbled, arms flailing, the world tilting. He toppled off the ledge. His body slammed into the rocky ground below with a sickening crack. His knee bent wrong—white-hot pain lanced through him so violently his vision blacked out.

He lay there gasping, his back screaming in agony, the taste of copper thick in his mouth. Above, he heard the roar of a flamethrower igniting. A violent woosh filled the cavern, followed by hideous screeches, sharp and animalistic, ripping through the stone like nails on metal.

His mind screamed at him to stay down—but something in him refused.

“Come on, Trav… just a little longer,” he rasped, forcing himself to roll over. His hands shook as he tore the satchel open. Inside—three red flares. His heart leapt. Salvation. Light.

He snapped one, the red glow flooding the dark like blood spilling across stone. Shadows recoiled at the edges of his vision. Slinging the satchel across his chest, he staggered to his feet, biting back a sob as his ruined knee screamed with every movement.

“Keep going,” he muttered, limping forward, the flare clutched tight in his fist.

The tunnel yawned to his right. A collapsed mining sign leaned against the wall, letters barely visible through the dust. Travis sucked in a trembling breath, every nerve on fire. “Come onnn!” he whined, half to himself, half to Dante—his mind screaming that Dante wasn’t there. His chest ached with the thought. I just wanted to watch Christmas movies with you. That’s all. Was that too much to fucking ask?

At the edge of the tunnel, he froze.

The drop was sheer. His knee throbbed, swollen and bloody, tiny rocks lodged deep into the wound. Climbing down felt impossible. Dropping was suicide. His chest tightened—every option screamed death.

He let the flare fall from his hand, letting it tumble to the ground below. The faint glow spread out just enough for him to see jagged rock walls. His pulse thundered in his throat. No other choice.

Travis gritted his teeth, gripping the wall, lowering himself inch by inch. His fingers slipped on cold stone, boots scraping uselessly. Twice he nearly fell—but he forced himself steady, breath ragged, tears stinging his eyes. Finally, his foot hit solid ground.

He scooped up the flare, light trembling in his hand, and shuffled deeper.

The tunnel narrowed to a choke point, a jagged crack in the wall. Old wooden planks had been hammered across it, half-collapsed, like someone had tried to keep something from getting through.

“Gotta be the way,” Travis whispered, his voice shaking. He pressed his back against the jagged stone and began to force himself sideways through the narrow crack. The rock scraped his ribs, his chest, his pack. He gritted his teeth and shoved harder.

Then—

CRACK.

A skeletal hand punched through the wooden planks inches from his face, its skin stretched thin and gray across the bone. Jagged nails scraped the air, reaching for him.

“Shit! Shit!” Travis yelped, adrenaline blasting through him. He shoved himself forward, scraping his shoulder raw against the rock as he forced his body through the crack. Splinters rained down as more hands tore through the planks, clawing at the air.

He burst free on the other side, stumbling into another narrow tunnel. The sound of wood splintering followed him.

He ran.

Hands punched through wooden walls as he sprinted past, reaching, grasping. Faces flashed through gaps—gray, skin clinging to bone, mouths stretched wide, teeth jagged. He ducked, weaved, sobbing with every step, his knee screaming but drowned out by terror.

The tunnel spat him out onto another wooden catwalk suspended over darkness. The planks groaned beneath his weight. Behind him, something moved.

Travis glanced back—and froze.

It crawled into the red glow of his flare. Skin stretched tight over unnaturally long limbs. Its arms bent wrong, spiderlike, its fingers tipped with claws. Its eyes—milky white, pupil-less. Its jaw hung slack, teeth jagged, too sharp, too many.

And it was fast.

Travis bolted. His body ran on pure terror, adrenaline burning through the pain in his knee. His heart thundered in his ears as he stumbled down a fork, choosing left blindly. A weathered sign read: SURFACE ELEVATOR.

“Yes! Yes!” Travis cried, voice breaking. He threw himself at the elevator, nearly slipping on a cold puddle of blood that glistened under his flare—still wet. His mind screamed don’t look.

He pulled the lever, shoving himself against the wooden wall of the cage as it lurched upward.

“Breathe. In and out. In and out,” he gasped, chest heaving. “Okay, okay. Snap out of it, Travis. Snap out—”

The elevator jolted violently. Metal screeched. Something climbed the cables. Above him, claws scraped. The entire cage shuddered.

“No, no, no—”

The elevator screeched to a stop. Travis stumbled out into a rotting wooden shack, beams leaning, planks scattered like bones. He sprinted, flung open a door, bolted into the night air.

Snow blasted his face, freezing his sweat instantly. Barrels lined the path. In blind desperation, he kicked one over, oil spilling out in a slick black river. He lit another flare, snapping it open with shaking hands, and hurled it down.

Fire roared to life.

Screeches echoed in the distance. Too close.

He ran, tripping over fallen rocks, clutching his knee, vision swimming. He limped toward a conveyor belt, yanking the lever with trembling hands. It rumbled to life.

“Oh Irene—come on please, please!” Travis sobbed, climbing it, the machinery vibrating under him. He hurled himself off the top onto a wooden platform, rolled hard, every bone screaming.

A barn loomed. He staggered inside, slammed the doors shut, bolting them with the lock.

For half a second, he breathed. His back pressed to the wood, chest heaving.

Then—

The door exploded inward. A head rammed through, teeth clamping down on his shoulder. Travis screamed, thrashing, blood spraying as he shoved it back with every ounce of strength. He ripped himself free, bolting deeper inside, running blind.

He leapt onto a beam, climbed, and hurled himself at the metal cable of the ski lift. His hands burned as they wrapped around a small metal pipe the steel froze ripping against his palms, sliding him down like a zipline.

The tower loomed ahead. He slammed into it, the force knocking the breath from his lungs. The cable snapped—the creature’s weight breaking it behind him. He fell.

Snow rushed up to meet him. His body slammed into it, tumbling down the slope.

Pain swallowed him whole. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Everything was screaming.

When he blinked awake, he lay half-buried in snow, his shoulder twisted wrong, his knee a pulsing, jagged fire. Tears streamed hot against his frozen cheeks.

Above him—scratching. Claws on wood. They were following.

“Move,” he croaked to himself. “Move or die.”

He staggered upright, every step a nightmare. His breath came in ragged sobs, steam billowing out. His vision blurred.

Through the storm, a light glimmered. Warm. Golden.

The cabin.

He sobbed in relief, half-limping, half-crawling toward it. His fingers fumbled on the steps, hauling his body up. He slammed his fist against the door, over and over.

“OPEN! PLEASE—OPEN! HELP ME!” Travis screamed, his voice cracking with desperation, his blood smearing across the wood.

He heard voices inside suddenly stop, then the thud of rushed footsteps before the cabin door flew open. Aphmau stood there, eyes wide—only for Travis to shove past her, nearly knocking her off balance.

“SHUT THE DOOR! SHUT THE FUCKING DOOR!” Travis screamed, his voice raw with panic.

Aphmau slammed it shut, heart hammering as she looked him over. His clothes were torn, filthy, streaked with dirt and blood. His skin was pale, lips trembling as if he’d frozen from the inside out. His chest rose and fell in frantic, shallow gasps.

“Travis—are you alright?!” Aphmau demanded, already knowing the answer.

Laurence and Ein rushed forward, grabbing him by the arms when his knees buckled. They half-guided, half-dragged him toward the couch.

“I… I didn’t think I would make it…” Travis whispered, his voice cracked and distant, his glassy eyes unfocused like he wasn’t fully there.

“You were screaming bloody murder out there,” Gene muttered, frowning hard as he shut the curtains.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asked, worry creasing his face.

“You look like shit,” Sasha blurted, then winced at her own words.

Ein’s nose twitched. His ears pinned back as he hissed, “Why do you smell like Zane’s blood?!”

“There’s… there’s something—” Travis started.

“Where’s Dante?” Laurence cut in sharply.

“There’s something out there! A monster!” Travis gasped, clutching his knee as he collapsed back onto the couch cushions.

“Did you guys split up?” Aphmau pressed gently, kneeling beside him.

“Wait…” Laurence interrupted, his eyes narrowing. He crouched, inspecting Travis’s twisted leg and his swollen shoulder. “Travis—are you okay?”

“NO!” Travis shouted, his voice cracking. “Dante’s gone! And my fucking knee and shoulder are broken! And a monster chased me through some mine shaft!”

“What monster, Trav?” Aphmau asked softly, trying not to spook him further.

“I don’t know! It was fast, and—”

“You can relax, Travis,” Sasha interrupted, glaring at Garroth and Laurence. “They were just messing around.”

Travis shook his head violently, tears stinging his eyes. “You’re not listening to me!” he yelled.

“If Garroth and Laurence really didn’t do it… then that might be the same thing that took Zane,” Ein said quietly, ears flat against his skull.

Travis’s head snapped up. “Zane!” He fumbled through his pockets with trembling hands, pulling out a small locket. “I found Zane’s locket… in the mines, on a barrel.”

Ein’s face fell as he recognized it, his hand shaking as he reached out. “H-how…? That was on him when he fell. In the elevator… the wooden house” 

Travis whispered, horror dawning in his voice. “I took that elevator. It’s how I got out. No one was down there. Nothing but…blood”

The room went silent, the weight of his words sinking in like ice water.

“Which means—” Ein started, but the rest was drowned out by a violent BANG against the front door.

Travis screamed, his entire body jolting as he shoved himself backward on the couch, trying to hide behind Aphmau. “It’s back! It’s back for me!”

Gene and Ein exchanged a grim look. Without a word, they moved toward the door—Ein drawing his gun, Gene’s jaw clenched tight.

“I’ll open it,” Gene muttered, wrapping his hand around the knob.

“Just fucking do it! Whoever it is isn’t gonna wait us out,” Ein growled, his finger twitching near the trigger.

Gene shot him a glare. “I mean, you could let me take the gun.”

Ein scoffed. “No, no, no. That’s less good. You open the door. I got the gun.” 

Before Gene could retort, the door exploded inward with a crash, sending him sprawling across the floor.

“Shit!” Gene gasped, scrambling up.

A man stepped through the doorway—tall, gaunt, his face shadowed by soot and grime. He carried a flamethrower in his hands, its nozzle gleaming in the firelight.

“Hold on, fucker! Who the fuck are you?!” Ein barked, aiming the gun at his chest.

“Everybody just calm down,” the man said, voice rough as gravel. “Move over. Go on, move. Let me say what I came to say.”

Ein’s teeth bared in a snarl, but after a tense beat, he lowered the gun—though not completely. He stepped back into the living room, Gene trailing cautiously.

They all gathered in silence as the stranger stopped in the center of the room, his flamethrower heavy in his grip.

“I’m here to tell you what you’re up against on this mountain,” he said coldly. “You kids never should’ve come here. I don’t take kindly to strangers crawling around my mountain—”

“Your mountain?” Garroth snapped, glaring. “My family owns it.”

The man laughed, a hollow sound. “This mountain don’t belong to me. That’s true. But it don’t belong to the Ro’Meaves either. It belongs… to the Wendigo.”

Everyone stiffened.

“A what?” Zenix asked, voice barely a whisper.

“The hell’s a Wendigo?” Gene muttered.

“Let’s hear him out,” Aphmau said quickly.

The stranger’s eyes were like burned-out coals as he spoke. “I’m only gonna say this once. Believe me or don’t—I don’t give a damn. But there’s a curse on these mountains. Should any man or woman resort to cannibalism out here… the spirit of the Wendigo is unleashed.”

“Shit…” Ein muttered, his mind flashing back—Zane dragged through the snow by something too fast, too wrong to be human.

“You’ll need to find somewhere safe,” the man said firmly.

“The basement,” Garroth offered, his voice hushed.

“Yeah. Get down there, all of you.”

“For how long?” Sasha asked, folding her arms but her voice cracked.

“Until dawn…” Travis’s voice shook as he spoke up for the first time since the bang. “M-me and Dante… we got through to a ranger before the tower went down. Said he’d send a helicopter at dawn.”

“There’s more of ya?” the stranger asked, narrowing his eyes.

Travis nodded weakly. “We were in the fire tower when the cables snapped. It dropped us into a cavern—whole place went up in flames. I fell, got separated from Dante.”

“And Zane was in the mines,” Ein added bitterly. “I thought he was gone, but Travis said the spot was empty. His body wasn’t there.” His nails dug into his palms, barely containing himself.

“Your friends will already be dead,” the stranger said flatly.

“No!” Travis shouted, clutching his head. “No, no—it can’t be! I made it out! They could still be alive!”

“A lot can happen quickly on this mountain,” the man said, his voice carrying the weight of too much experience.

“I’m going to find Zane. And Dante,” Ein growled, stepping forward.

“You can’t,” Aaron warned, gripping his arm.

“I have to!” Ein snarled, getting in his face. “Zane is my mate. Dante is our friend. I am not leaving them to die again!”

“No. I’ll look for them,” the stranger interrupted, his voice firm. “I’ll be back at dawn. If I don’t… they’re gone.”

“Then I’ll go with you,” Ein snapped.

The man’s glare was sharp as a blade. “Werewolf or not—you don’t know what you’re up against. Even your kind can’t kill it.”

Everyone froze.

“Then… how?” Aphmau asked carefully.

The man lifted the flamethrower slightly. “Fire. Burns away their armor-like skin. Releases the spirit.”

Aphmau’s stomach churned at the thought, bile rising in her throat.

Ein’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, storing away every word.

“Good. Now get to the basement,” the stranger growled, stomping to the door. Without another glance back, he slammed it shut behind him.

The cabin fell into silence, only Travis’s ragged sobs filling the room.

Chapter 22: Im finding Zane.

(04:47) (Ein POV)  

 

They made it down into the basement of the old house—into the same room where Garroth and Laurence had once watched everything play out for their prank, not far from where Aphmau had been tied up. Aaron shoved the heavy door shut with a thud that echoed through the concrete walls.

“These all the doors?” Ein demanded.

Garroth nodded quickly. “Yeah.”

Ein’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

“What are you even looking for?” Aphmau asked.

“Another way out,” Ein muttered, already scanning the monitors on the desk.

“Ein… I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Laurence said, voice tight. “We should stay put. Right here. Until dawn. We’re safe down here.”

“Oh yeah?” Gene shot back, his tone sharp as a blade. “Safe? All wrapped up like a present with a bow for that thing to tear us apart?”

“People will come for us. In the morning,” Aphmau said firmly, though her voice wavered just slightly.

“You don’t sound so sure,” Sasha whispered.

“That’s what will happen. Right, Trav?” Aphmau asked, looking toward the corner.

Travis sat slumped against the wall, Garroth’s rolled-up jacket propping up his ruined knee. His eyes were glassy, his face pale with exhaustion. Slowly, he lifted his head. “…Yeah. I mean… right?” His voice was small, almost unsure of itself.

“Well, you can wait,” Ein said coldly, stepping forward. “I’m finding Zane and Dante.”

“You don’t even know if they’re alive…” Aaron warned.

“They gotta be in the mines, right, Travis? You said Zane wasn’t in the elevator. That means he had to have moved!” Ein pressed.

“What if that thing dragged him away?” Sasha’s words sliced through the room like ice.

Silence.

“…I’m not leaving this mountain without finding out,” Ein said, his voice cutting, his eyes hard.

“I think… the middle of the mines is where that thing lives,” Travis whispered, blinking dully.

Ein nodded once, resolute. He placed the gun down on the table in front of the monitors. “Use this if necessary. I’ll be back soon.” He turned and slipped through the wire door, the lock clanging behind him.

Sasha’s gaze lingered on Travis. Something was wrong. Her stomach turned. “Travis…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “What is that?”

“Huh?” Travis mumbled.

“What is that?!” Sasha cried, pointing at his neck.

Travis reached up, fingers brushing a torn, bloody wound he’d almost forgotten about. His hand froze. “…Oh.”

“Oh no. Oh my god—no, no, no!” Sasha stumbled back, eyes wide.

“It’s nothing. I just—it bit me and—”

“It bit you?! What bit you?” Sasha shrieked.

“…The… the Wendigo,” Travis admitted, his voice breaking. He wouldn’t meet their eyes.

The room erupted.

“Oh my god…” Sasha’s hands shook.

“It’s nothing, really! Not a big deal! It doesn’t even hurt as much as my leg or my arm!” Travis insisted, desperate.

“Are you okay?” Aphmau whispered, stepping closer carefully.

“Travis,” Gene said slowly, suspicion thick in his tone, “if that thing bit you—”

“I know what you’re thinking. I’m fine!”

“Are you?” Gene pressed, narrowing his eyes.

“Travis, at least let us check it out,” Aphmau pleaded.

“Travis… if a Wendigo bit you,” Gene said coldly, “you could turn into one of those things.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Laurence snapped. “He said it was from eating each other, remember? He said that!”

“But I didn’t eat anyone!!” Travis cried, his voice cracking.

“If it bit you, then you’re gonna turn into one. And then you’re going to turn on us—oh my Irene, oh Irene!!” Sasha wailed, spiraling.

“You can’t be down here with us,” Gene snarled.

“WHAT?!” Travis roared.

“Gene!” Zenix shouted.

“You gotta go,” Gene said, his tone merciless.

“Are you kidding me?!” Travis bellowed.

“You’re putting us all in danger.”

“Like hell I am!!”

“Travis, you can’t stay here,” Gene barked.

“Gene, just cool your head, okay? We don’t know if it works like that. Maybe it’s just a bite,” Aphmau said, gripping his arm desperately.

“The door’s right there. I’ll let you do this voluntarily,” Gene said.

“I can’t even walk! You want me to what? Crawl outside and sacrifice myself over a chance?!” Travis screamed, tears shining in his eyes.

“Oh my god, will you just GO! Get out of here!” Sasha shouted, her voice shrill with panic.

Gene’s hand slammed down on the table. He snatched up the gun and aimed it straight at Travis.

Aphmau gasped, throwing herself in front of him. “NO! You’re not shooting anybody!”

Travis sobbed behind her, clutching at her shirt.

Garroth and Laurence surged forward. “Put that down!” Laurence shouted.

“He could kill us all!” Gene snapped, eyes wild, finger hovering near the trigger.

“This is my house! My safe room—so my rules! And you’re not shooting Travis!” Garroth roared.

Gene’s gaze snapped to him. The gun shifted. “You’re right. I should kill you two as well.”

“You son of a—”

But before he could fire, Aaron stormed forward. His hand clamped onto the weapon, ripping it from Gene’s grip like it was nothing. He held it high above his head, his voice a vicious growl.

“NO ONE is shooting anybody. And that man said it was from consuming flesh. Travis said he didn’t eat anyone. Therefore, nothing will happen.”

Aaron shoved the gun into his pocket with finality, his eyes burning. “And don’t you ever point a gun at my fiancé again.” His voice was low, feral.

The room fell into stunned silence.

Sasha’s shaking hands dug into Travis’s satchel. She pulled out the notebook the stranger had left. Her fingers flipped through the pages until she stopped—eyes wide. “Oh… oh no…”

“What?” Laurence demanded.

She read aloud, voice trembling: “While it is believed that a bite from a Wendigo will make the victim turn, that is not true. I have been bitten. I have not turned. A bite… does not spread the curse.”

Sasha looked up, guilt flooding her face.

“Let me see that.” Gene snatched it. His jaw worked as his eyes scanned the words. “…Yep. Says you’ll be fine.”

“Fine?!” Travis screamed, his tears finally spilling down his cheeks. “You almost shot me! Is that fine?!”

“He didn’t shoot you—” Aphmau began.

“And she almost let him!” Travis stabbed a finger at Sasha. She flinched back like she’d been struck.

“That’s not fair. She was scared,” Aphmau tried desperately.

“NO! I was scared!” Travis yelled, voice raw. “I was the one bit, I was the one running for my life, and then you all—”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? We didn’t know what would happen!” Sasha blurted.

“There’s—there’s no excuse. No excuse for this!” Travis sobbed, glaring at her through tears.

“Please, just understand—”

“No! I don’t want to hear it. Just shut up!”

The tension was suffocating.

Then Aphmau gasped as she read further, clutching the notebook. “Oh crap—crap, crap, crap! We’ve got to get Ein. Now!”

“Did you forget I can’t walk?” Travis said bitterly, sounding drained.

“I’ll stay behind,” Laurence said.

“I’m staying too. I don’t wanna hang around someone willing to kill his friends. I don’t wanna be a sacrifice,” Zenix spat, glaring at Gene.

“I want to find my brother,” Garroth said quietly, “but… I think I’d just get in the way right now.” He lowered himself beside Travis and Laurence.

“I’m definitely going. I don’t wanna be here with them right now,” Sasha muttered.

Aphmau nodded quickly. “Alright then.” She opened the wire door, letting Gene, Aaron, and Sasha step out first.

She turned back, her eyes soft on Travis. “We’ll be back soon. Hang in there, Travis.”

The door shut behind her, leaving the room heavy with silence and unspoken fear.

Chapter 23: hey Wolfie!

(05:03) (Ein POV)

Ein walked back though the asylum pushing though heavy metal doors before bolting it shut behind him. He walked though the broken hallway he pulls out Zane’s lighter using it as a torch. He saw the hallway split two ways—he chooses to go to the right, seeing a huge mostly empty room. He walks up the large staircase to the left, walking forward, taking a left, walking through a door. Seeing the main room, he met the wolf, but somehow it seemed more run down than before. Pillars had fallen, covering the box full of bones.

“Ho-ly…shit,” Ein said, looking around. He saw the white wolf was gone.

He walks up to the second level, seeing a hole in the ground, seeing a small desk in a corner. On it sat a wooden torch and a box of shotgun shells—and a shotgun. He grabs the torch.

“All I need is a pitchfork and a mob,” Ein muttered, lighting the torch, putting the lighter in his pockets before grabbing a few handfuls of bullets, shoving them into his pockets before grabbing the shotgun, seeing two bullets preloaded.

“Alright, let’s find Zane.”

Ein pushed the wire door open. He walked to the big wire door, seeing a rusted lock keeping it shut. Ein held his gun up, shooting the lock off. He kicked it the rest of the way open, hearing pawpads hit the ground. He went on guard before seeing the white wolf round the corner, his fur almost grey with grime. Both their ears perked up as they saw each other.

“Happy to see me again, huh?” Ein smirked, walking forward, shoving his gun into his pocket the best he could before crouching to pet Wolfie. “Hey, I was hoping to run into you again. Good boy. Alright, you’re coming with me. Here’s the plan—I happened to see a map of this place, so we’re not running blind. There should be a way through the psychiatric wing that will take us right outside the mine. Think we can handle that?” Ein asked as they started walking.

Wolfie looked up at him, both their tails wagging slightly as Wolfie arfed in agreement.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Ein said.

They reached open doors outside, but there was a wire hallway connecting the main part and the other wing of the asylum. He walked through it, a growl echoing through his throat. Wolfie barked and growled, the wolf’s eyes locked on the ceiling. Ein saw something moving above them.

“Come on. Faster we move, faster we leave,” Ein muttered, walking forward.

He saw a floor below him, wire walls stretched from floor to ceiling, seeing the way to the right blocked by barrels and fallen beams. He walked to the left, Wolfie sticking close to his legs, seeing a door with a metal lever.

“Here goes nothing,” Ein muttered.

He heard the door behind him close, the door in front of him opening in exchange—but it stopped halfway.

“Of course,” Ein said, squeezing through, Wolfie following him.

They reached the other side, seeing a broken porcelain toilet against the wall. They saw concrete stairs, walking down, both smelling fresh blood. They took a sharp turn they saw the black wolf stung up aginst a metal door its head barley hanging on his stomach ripped open

“Son of a bitch,” Ein muttered, ears flattening tight against his head. His breath clouded in the cold air, chest heaving.

Beside him, Wolfie whined—an aching, sorrowful sound—before it rumbled into a low growl. Hackles bristling, the wolf turned sharply down a side hallway, claws scratching against cracked tiles.

Ein hesitated. His eyes caught on something else. To his left was a dented metal door, the surface streaked dark with dried blood. Deep, ragged claw marks shredded the steel like paper. He pressed his palm against the cold metal and shoved. The hinges groaned, resisting before giving way.

Inside was a narrow cell. A rusted bedframe sat crooked in the corner. Across the walls, gouged into the concrete, were desperate words:

LET US OUT! WE ARE STARVING. FREEZING!! I WILL MAKE YOU PAY! STOP TESTING US NOW!!

Ein’s chest tightened as he traced the letters with his eyes, each stroke carved with feral rage.

“What went on here…?” he muttered, voice low, as if the walls themselves were listening.

He tore himself away, hurrying after Wolfie until his feet thudded close again. They pushed forward together, weaving through ruined corridors. Broken rooms passed in a blur—splintered doors, overturned cots, shattered glass glinting in torchlight—until they reached another hallway.

At its end, a film projector sat abandoned on a table, its reels intact, waiting.

Ein knelt, flicking the switch. A faint whir filled the silence, and the wall lit up in flickering black and white.

The grainy picture showed a nurse wheeling a man strapped to a chair into frame. Her face was blurred by the poor film quality, but the man’s eyes were wide, wild. She turned, walking away.

The man strained against the bindings, jerking violently—until his wrist snapped free, bending at an unnatural angle with a sickening crack.

Ein flinched.

Onscreen, the man tore himself loose—ripping through straps, flesh tearing. Then, with inhuman speed, he scrambled up the wall behind him and vanished out of frame.

The nurse returned moments later, her shoulders stiffening in confusion. She scanned the room. Her head tilted up.

Her mouth opened in a scream that no sound carried, the silent film flickering.

Then she bolted—too late. The creature launched from the ceiling, chasing her offscreen.

The film sputtered, then cut to black.

Ein stood frozen, bile creeping up his throat. “They… they fed them people to see what would happen…” he whispered, his voice sharp with disgust.

He shut the projector off, the whir dying. The silence that followed was heavier than before.

They moved on. Down the next hall, a wooden door bled light through its cracks. Ein bashed it open with his shoulder, torch flame snapping. A short passage stretched ahead, ending in a wire door chained with a rusted padlock.

Through the mesh, he saw a man slumped in a chair, head bowed. Lifeless.

“Holy shit… who is this guy?” Ein muttered.

He raised his shotgun, fired. The lock burst. The wire door clattered open, and Ein stepped inside cautiously. The air smelled faintly of mold and rot. On the corpse’s knee rested a folded scrap of paper.

Ein plucked it free.

“To whom it may concern— They are dying outside. I hear them screaming and crying. This hell is my only legacy. Irene’s punishment for my mistakes. No escaping my fate. Death awaits me now. Jefferson Be—”

The handwriting wavered into illegibility.

Ein exhaled harshly, crumpling the note in his fist. “Old guy used poison so he could escape death by his prisoners…” he muttered, shaking his head.

Wolfie padded silently at his side as they pressed forward.

A rusted sign loomed out of the gloom: B-Wing.

Ein’s gut twisted. His instincts spiked, every hair on his body prickling. He forced himself to keep walking. He didn’t turn his head, didn’t move his shoulders—but his eyes flicked upward.

A wendigo crawled across the ceiling above, its limbs bent at grotesque angles. The thing’s head twisted unnaturally as it stalked forward, shadowing him.

Ein didn’t breathe. Neither did Wolfie. They waited until the scraping claws faded away into the dark ahead.

Only then did they move again.

A hole yawned in the floor, opening into a cavernous room below. Ein edged close, gun raised, when a metal can clattered to the ground. He jerked, aiming—

—but only a massive rat scurried out.

He let out a sharp breath. “Shit…”

When he turned, his blood froze. A wendigo sat crouched atop a metal cart, its hollow eyes locked on him.

The screech came like a banshee’s wail, and the creature launched.

Ein’s shotgun roared. The blast tore through its chest, flinging it backward across the room.

“Run!” he barked, and he and Wolfie sprinted across the chamber. Behind them, claws scraped. The wendigo rose, shrieking, and bounded after them.

Two exits ahead—one forward, one to the left. Every nerve in Ein’s body screamed left.

They darted through, slamming the door closed. “Shit, shit, shit!” Ein swore, shoving his back against it. A hole gaped in the wire-reinforced window, firelight flickering through. His torch guttered, then died.

“Damn it,” Ein spat, tossing the burnt-out torch to the ground. The hallway plunged into near darkness, lit only by the weak glow leaking in from a cracked ceiling vent. His hands moved fast, yanking over a row of dented lockers, dragging them across the floor with a screech of rust on tile.

The door behind them rattled violently.

Bang. Bang.

A Wendigo slammed against it, the thin metal groaning under the force. Its pale face suddenly shoved through the small wire-glass window, jaws snapping, its teeth grinding against the mesh. Strings of saliva slapped against the glass.

“Stay back!” Ein shouted, stepping away and firing.

The blast tore through the window, sending the creature flying back with a wet crunch. For a heartbeat there was silence—then scratching. Crawling. It was coming again.

“Go!” Ein barked. Wolfie bounded ahead, claws clicking on the tile.

They tore through another doorway just as the Wendigo wormed through the wire window, bones cracking as it forced its body through unnaturally. Ein slammed the heavy door, throwing the lock just as Wolfie barked sharply, his white fur bristling.

Ein crouched, resting a hand on the wolf’s head. His voice softened, even though his hands shook. “Good boy… shhh, it’s okay, it’s fine. We’re fine.”

When he looked up, he froze.

They were standing in a chow hall. Tables overturned. Rusted trays scattered across the floor. Long-dead food still rotted in corners, the smell sour and cloying. The vast, open room offered little cover.

And then—movement.

A Wendigo dropped silently from the rafters, landing with a clang on a metal table. Its long limbs bent the steel frame beneath it. Its head snapped toward them, eyes glowing faintly in the dark.

“Shit,” Ein whispered.

He ducked behind the nearest table, Wolfie pressing tight against his leg. The only sound was the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears.

Something rolled across the tabletop above them. A bottle. Slowly. As if nudged by invisible fingers.

It teetered at the edge.

Don’t fall. Don’t fall. Don’t—

Ein’s hand shot up, catching it just before it hit the ground. He clutched it against his chest, frozen. His breath came shallow and sharp.

Above, the Wendigo launched across to another table with inhuman grace, its claws clattering on the metal. It sniffed the air, head jerking in sharp, twitchy motions.

Wolfie let out a low whine.

“Easy… easy…” Ein mouthed silently, motioning for the wolf to stay down.

Step by slow step, Ein shuffled toward another table, keeping his body low. His hands trembled against the shotgun.

A sudden scrape—Wolfie bolted for a jagged hole in the wall. The Wendigo screeched, whipping its head toward the sound.

Ein didn’t think—he dove after Wolfie, squeezing through the gap into another hall lined with iron-barred cells.

“Oh, shit,” Ein breathed.

The stench hit him first—urine, blood, mildew. Then the noise. Hands shot through the bars, gray and skeletal, clawing at the air. Hollow faces pressed against the rusted wire, jaws gnashing. Voices whispered, moaned, screamed.

Ein rounded a corner. A hand lashed out, nails raking across his ear. He jerked back, raising the shotgun.

“Fuck this,” he muttered, forcing himself forward.

He had no choice but to pass an open cell. As he did, a Wendigo launched itself out—jaws inches from his face. He stumbled back, pulling the trigger—

Click.

Chains rattled. The Wendigo was yanked back by a collar bolted to the wall, screaming in rage as it thrashed.

Ein didn’t stop. He sprinted down the left hall, Wolfie on his heels. Behind them, claws scraped. The ceiling creaked. Another Wendigo crawled above them like a spider, its limbs digging into the wire mesh.

“Not good,” Ein hissed, spinning and firing. The blast blew it off the ceiling, but more were coming. Their screeches filled the hall.

His eyes caught a barrel by the wall. He grabbed it, tipped it over—oil spilling out across the floor. He gave it a hard kick, sending it rolling toward the Wendigos.

He fired.

The explosion tore the hallway apart, blasting Ein off his feet. Flaming spirits—screaming, wailing—erupted from the blast, faces of the damned pressing in close before vanishing into smoke.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” Ein shouted, scrambling up. His ears rang. He shoved the nearest door open, practically hurling Wolfie through before slamming it shut and throwing the bolt.

They stood in a mostly empty room. A single grate yawned open in the center of the floor, black and deep, exhaling cold air. Ein didn’t even glance at it.

“No more stalling,” he muttered, voice ragged. “We find Zane. Now.”

He pushed through the double doors, up a set of rotting stairs. The bathroom at the top was shattered—tiles cracked, mirrors shattered, a hole in the wall leading to another room. Moonlight filtered through broken beams, pale and silver.

The silence didn’t last. A Wendigo’s shriek split the air, rattling the walls.

They ran.

At the end of the hall, a Wendigo crouched low, its limbs bent wrong, saliva dripping from its jaws.

“Fuuuuck!” Ein roared, breaking into a sprint. Wolfie bolted beside him, claws scrabbling on the floor.

The door at the end was locked. Ein raised the shotgun and fired—splinters burst out as the lock shattered. He slammed the door open, dragging Wolfie through as the Wendigo chased, leaping from wall to wall like some grotesque insect.

Ein shoved a locker in front of the door, the impact rattling his teeth.

No time.

They ran into the next corridor—until the floor dropped away. A massive hole yawned in the tiles. Ein didn’t hesitate—he jumped, boots smashing onto the catwalk below.

He spun, looking up. “Come on, bud!”

Wolfie hesitated, whining.

“Now!” Ein barked.

Wolfie leapt. Ein caught him as he landed, grunting. He scratched behind the wolf’s ears with a trembling hand. “Good boy. Good boy. Now let’s move.”

The catwalk shook under their steps as they ran, descending into a wide chamber. The air grew colder. At the base, a set of stairs led to a wooden door.

Ein’s relief was short-lived.

A Wendigo crawled onto the wall at the base of the stairs, its body twitching with unnatural speed.

“Shit!” Ein fired, the blast knocking it against a wall of barrels.

Then—more. They poured into the chamber, crawling, shrieking, their eyes burning in the dark.

Ein glanced at the barrels. At the door. At Wolfie.

“No way out…” he muttered. His body moved before he could think—he pulled the trigger.

The barrels ignited in a thunderous blast. Fire consumed the chamber, spirits bursting free, faces of the damned screaming as they whirled upward.

The shockwave slammed Ein and Wolfie into the door, splintering it open. They tumbled out into the snow, choking on the freezing air.

Ein staggered to his feet, spirits of fire flickering and vanishing around him. The snow hissed as the flames died.

He looked down at Wolfie. The wolf’s chest rose and fell fast, his fur dusted with frost.

“On your feet, boy,” Ein whispered. “We’re not done yet.”

Together, they pushed into the storm, leaving the burning asylum behind.

Chapter 24: Zane's alive!...barley

(03:43) (Zane POV)

 

Zane layed crumpled at the bottom of the elevator shaft, every breath burning like glass in his lungs. Cold seeped into his bones from the blood pooling beneath him, its sticky warmth already leeching away into the concrete floor. His black tights and long-sleeve clung to his skin, shredded and damp, while long, jagged scratches ran down his arms and legs. Shards of glass still jutted from the wounds, glittering faintly in the dim light like cruel ornaments.

His shoulder screamed with fire when he twitched. Pain shot through his collarbone, sharp and stabbing, making his vision pulse white at the edges. He forced himself onto an elbow, trembling, his breath shallow and ragged. His head throbbed with a deep, crushing ache that made the world spin in uneven waves. Instinctively, he reached a shaking hand to his temple. Sticky wetness coated his fingertips. Blood. It streamed down his face in thin rivulets, cold against the heat of his skin.

With dread clawing at his stomach, he dragged his hand to the back of his skull. His fingers sank into matted hair, sticky and slick. The pain was so sharp he thought for a moment he might pass out. His skull might be fractured. His throat tightened.

“…E–Ein…” he croaked, trying to call out, but the name died in a rasp, muffled and broken. His voice was shredded, nothing but a whisper swallowed by the cavernous shaft.

Zane swallowed shakily, the taste of blood thick on his tongue. With his good arm, he clawed at the elevator wall and forced himself upright, his body swaying dangerously. His legs barely held. His breath rattled as he braced on the corroded metal, cold seeping into his palm.

That was when he saw them: a pair of miner’s boots, scuffed and cracked, lying in the corner like an offering. Next to them, a green miner’s jacket, its fabric torn, grimy with dust. The sight of them felt like salvation against the cold.

Zane stumbled forward, dragging his bad arm close against his side to keep the jagged pain at bay. He slid his swollen, blood-slicked feet into the boots, the leather stiff and unforgiving. Then he wrestled the jacket on, gasping as pain lanced through his shoulder, the world tilting again with the effort. The jacket’s fabric was cold against his fevered skin, but it was something—protection, however small.

Then—

A scream. High-pitched, raw, echoing down the shaft.

Zane froze. His breath hitched, eyes snapping to the darkness beyond. Nothing. Just the thick silence settling back around him, broken only by the thundering of his own heartbeat.

His body shook—not just from pain, but from cold and fear crawling down his spine like ice water. His legs trembled, knees threatening to give out, but he forced himself to stand, forcing his ruined body to move even as his vision blurred and the shadows seemed to sway around him.

Chapter 25: No I'm finding Zane.

(05:16) (Gene POV) 

Aphmau’s boots splashed against the damp concrete, her voice echoing in the narrow hallway. “Come on, guys! We gotta find Ein.” She pushed forward, headlamp beam cutting through the thick shadows.

Aaron stayed close behind her, his jaw tight and fists balled, always ready to step between her and whatever was waiting in the dark. Sasha and Gene trailed behind, their footsteps uneven, the air between them thick with the kind of silence that was almost louder than words. Distrust lingered, bubbling just beneath the surface.

The corridor stank of rust and mildew. Filthy puddles spread across the cracked floor, catching dim light from their lamps. Chunks of ceiling and twisted bits of pipe littered their path, forcing them to weave carefully around the wreckage. The deeper they went, the narrower it felt—stone pressing in, shadows stretching too long.

After several sharp turns, they reached a dead end. A rusted metal door loomed at the end of the passage, its bolts corroded with age. Aphmau pushed against it with all her strength, gritting her teeth. The door didn’t budge, only groaning against her weight.

“Crap!” she muttered, slamming her palm against the cold steel. “Ein must have locked it behind him. There’s gotta be another way.”

“What about this?” Sasha’s voice rang out nervously. She pointed her flashlight toward the ground. A circular grate sat in the floor, its surface damp, black water dripping between the bars.

Aphmau jogged over, crouching down. Her headlamp beam shot through the grate into a shaft of total darkness. A narrow ladder disappeared into the black. She hesitated. “I mean… should we try it?”

“Not like we’ve got a whole lot of choices here,” Gene muttered, folding his arms. His flashlight beam jittered across the walls, hands trembling more than he wanted to admit.

Aaron knelt, his muscles tensing as he wedged his fingers under the grate. With a hard yank, he peeled it back, the metal scraping across the floor in a teeth-grinding screech. They all peered down into the hole, shadows swallowing the rungs of the ladder. The air rising up was cold and sour, reeking of mold.

“Okay, that would be the last place I’d wanna be right now…” Sasha whispered. Her voice shook, though she tried to cover it with a roll of her eyes.

Aphmau laughed softly, trying to lighten the mood. “So who wants to go first?”

“After you,” Gene smirked, motioning to her.

Aaron shot him a glare before stepping forward. “I’ll go first.” His boots clanged against the iron rungs as he climbed down, his flashlight beam swaying across the slick walls.

Aphmau followed after him, carefully gripping the ladder. “It’s not so bad… You think this is the tunnel to the sanatorium?”

“Of course it is. Where else would it go?” Sasha muttered, but her voice lacked confidence as she climbed in after her.

Gene came last, his fingers white-knuckling the metal. He slid the grate back into place above them once he descended, sealing the passage behind him. By the time his boots touched the wet stone, the others were already gone—only faint light bobbing deeper into the tunnel ahead.

“Seriously?” Gene muttered, huffing. “Couldn’t wait five seconds?” He lifted his flashlight, the narrow beam slicing through the oppressive dark as he trudged forward alone.

That’s when he heard it.

“Help me!”

The voice echoed down the tunnel, broken and desperate. Zane’s voice.

Gene froze, heart pounding. “H-hello?” he called out, his breath puffing white in the damp chill. His beam swung toward a jagged drop-off in the stone path. Somewhere below, faint crying drifted through the dripping echoes.

“Who’s there?… Anybody?…” Then, softer, trembling: “…Zane?”

Gene’s throat went dry. His mind screamed at him to turn back, to find the others. But his chest swelled with something else—pride, hunger. If this was real, if Zane was down here, he would be the one to save him. Not zanes mutt. Not anyone else.

“This is fucking crazy…” Gene whispered, lowering himself down the ledge anyway. “But if I’m the one who saves him… then I’ll be his hero. Then he’ll have to come running to me instead of that mutt he calls a boyfriend.”

The tunnel below was tighter, colder. Water dripped from the ceiling in steady taps, splashing into shallow puddles that reflected his shaky light. Each echo of Zane’s sobs pulled him deeper, the sound distorted, bouncing off the walls in ways that made it impossible to know where it truly came from.

“Zane?” Gene’s voice cracked as he stepped carefully, his breath fogging the air.

A sudden bang! rattled through the stone, vibrating in his chest. Gene flinched, pulse roaring in his ears. Something about this was wrong. Very wrong.

He pushed onward anyway, weaving through boarded-off openings and half-collapsed beams until he reached the bottom. A massive tunnel stretched out to the right, wooden pillars groaning as they held the stone ceiling.

And there it was.

A trapdoor, huge and heavy, wood wrapped with bands of warped metal. The steel bowed outward, bending under violent slams from whatever was trapped beneath. Each thud shook the ground, dust trickling from the ceiling.

Danger signs were plastered crookedly across the structure, their red lettering faded but still clear: KEEP OUT. DO NOT OPEN.

Gene swallowed hard, taking a step back, his instincts screaming to run. His legs trembled, but he forced himself sideways, edging carefully around the structure.

Then it came.

A shriek—high-pitched, inhuman, nothing like Zane’s voice. It pierced through the tunnel, rattling the air like glass.

Gene froze, his gut twisting in horror. His flashlight beam shook violently in his hand.

“Definitely not Zane…” he whispered, before bolting, boots splashing as he ran. His body screamed at him to turn back, to find Aphmau and the others. But pride kept him moving.

If Zane’s boyfriend could run off on his own, then so could he. He was going to find Zane all on his own.

And maybe… Dante too…if he runs across him.

Chapter 26: Dante!

(05:59) Dante Pov

Dante slid down the jagged ledge, his sneakers scraping stone, one hand gripping the rock, the other clutching his phone like a lifeline. The weak glow of the screen cast shaky light over the walls, painting cracks and shadows that seemed to move when he blinked too slow. His whole body ached. It had been hours since he’d fallen into the mines, hours of searching, stumbling, calling out for Travis until his throat burned.

His stomach growled loud enough to echo. Sleep tugged at the corners of his eyes, his adrenaline finally burning away, leaving him drained and heavy. All he wanted was to find Travis, find the others, and get the hell out of this mountain. He was sick of the scraping sounds that never seemed to stop, the distant screams that clawed into his bones.

Turning down a narrow passage, Dante froze. Someone was limping ahead of him, a figure half-hidden in the dark. His heart jumped.

“TRAVIS?!” Dante shouted, his voice cracking as it bounced off the stone walls.

The figure flinched, head jerking toward him. Dante lifted his phone, light catching on pale skin, blood, and torn clothes. His breath caught sharp in his chest.

“…h-uh?” a broken whimper echoed back.

“Zane?” Dante whispered, stunned.

The boy looked wrecked—his clothes scorched with burn marks, streaked with dirt and dried blood. He swayed on his feet like he could collapse any second, eyes wide and unfocused until they latched onto Dante.

“D-an-te?” Zane’s voice cracked with fragile relief, small and desperate.

“Shit—Zane!” Dante ran to him, hands cupping his face gently, terrified he’d break him more by touching. Blood and grime stuck under his fingers, his light catching the deep gash trailing down Zane’s temple. Then he saw the back of his head—matting of blood, bone swollen and ugly.

“Shit, shit, no—your skull’s cracked.” Panic shoved every other thought aside. “I gotta get you to a hospital.” His voice shook as if saying it out loud might somehow make it possible.

Zane swayed, whispering through a throat that sounded shredded raw. “Dante? …How? …We need to go… something’s down here. It dragged me from Ein… at the lodge…” Every word came out jagged, like broken glass, his body trembling with pain and cold.

“Goddammit,” Dante muttered, voice tight. His chest hurt just looking at him. “Okay, listen. Travis fell further than me. I’ve been looking everywhere, but… I haven’t found him. I don’t know if he got out…” His throat bobbed hard, but he forced his words steady. “Alright, doesn’t matter. We find a way out, regroup with the others. Plane picks us up in like an hour. Everything’s gonna be okay, I swear.”

He ducked under Zane’s arm, pulling him close, supporting his weight. Zane barely hummed in reply, too numb to form words. They shuffled forward together, each step a fight.

The cavern opened into a tunnel, wire fencing forming a crude doorway ahead. Lights dangled overhead, dim bulbs swinging slightly, their yellow glow bleeding down the wooden path. The beams creaked above them, holding up the mine like brittle matchsticks.

They passed through, their shadows stretching against the rock walls.

At the next split, the mine veered two ways. A rusted track ran down the center, vanishing into black. The ceiling sagged with ropes of dangling wire. Dante guided Zane along the tracks, deeper into the dark.

Another opening yawned ahead. This one wasn’t reinforced, just a jagged hole carved out of rock. No lights. No wooden floor. Just cold cave breathing around them.

They hesitated at the threshold, and then it came—a piercing scream, sharp and inhuman, tearing through the shafts. Zane whimpered instantly, pressing himself against Dante, fingers clawing weakly at his shirt.

Dante’s own hands shook, but he held Zane tight, his heart pounding so hard it hurt. “It’s fine,” he whispered, though his voice was breaking. “We just keep moving.”

They pushed into the black passage, their footsteps crunching against gravel. The air smelled wet, metallic, heavy with rot. The walls widened, boards hammered unevenly across parts of the rock, like someone had tried—and failed—to close it off.

The screams came again, closer this time.

“Shit! Which way?” Dante’s light darted back and forth, desperate.

“Zane!?” a voice called suddenly from the dark, broken and ragged.

Zane jerked upright, eyes wide.

“Gene?” Dante called back, spinning toward the sound. His stomach knotted.

Footsteps echoed ahead—fast, unsteady, coming straight for them.

Dante shoved Zane behind him, raising his phone like a weapon, his own pulse roaring louder than the sound of boots on stone.

Chapter 27: Told you I was better then a mutt.

(6:30) Gene POV

 

Gene stepped out of a mine shaft, the dim beam of a cracked phone screen illuminating his face. Splattered streaks of dried blood stained his jacket, making him look more ghost than man.

“Gene! It’s really you! How? Are the others okay?!” Dante blurted out, questions tumbling over each other in a rush of relief.

“Dante?…” Gene’s lip curled, disappointment sharp in his tone. “You’re not the one I wanted… whatever. The others are fine. Half are back at the house, the others are chasing Ein—he decided to play soldier.”

“E-Ein?” Zane’s broken whisper slipped out, his body trembling even as he sagged closer into Dante’s hold. Relief flickered across his bloodied face, thin and fragile.

“What about Travis?!” Dante asked quickly, steadying Zane as his knees wobbled.

“Alive,” Gene muttered, scratching at his neck, “but probably needs a doctor.” His eyes dragged over Zane, wincing without meaning to. “Shit, Zane… you look terrible.” That wasn’t what he had meant to say, but it slipped out anyway.

“Do you know the way back?” Dante pressed, stepping closer.

“I… got lost,” Gene admitted, voice low, embarrassment in the corners.

“Us too. But hey, at least we’re together. Honestly, this is the first time I’ve been this happy to see you, bro. I’m glad you’re okay.” Dante’s words carried warmth, relief softening his tired face.

For a second, Gene’s chest tightened. The cruel thoughts that had been festering earlier twisted painfully, guilt clawing its way up before he shoved it back down. “Yeah. Me too,” he said stiffly.

A shrill scream echoed through the shaft, vibrating through the rock.

“Shit! We gotta go.” Dante moved to wrap an arm around Zane’s waist, but Gene was already there, pulling him close with a quick, false-smile. “I got him. You’ve been through enough.”

Dante hesitated but let go, watching uneasily as Gene held Zane upright. Gene’s pulse hammered at the closeness, drinking in every detail—Zane’s scent, his warmth, even buried under blood and grime.

They pushed down the cavern until they hit an impasse. Run or hide. Zane’s weight against him made the choice obvious. He couldn’t run. Not like this.

“Come on,” Dante whispered, pointing toward a wooden hideaway tucked into the stone wall.

The scraping behind them grew louder. Closer. Gene gritted his teeth and lifted Zane, bracing his shaking body upright as Dante ushered them into the cramped hideaway. Dante pressed Zane’s head into his chest, shielding his ears, and killed his flashlight.

The Wendigo’s claws scraped along the wood above them, the sound vibrating through their bones. Hot, rancid breath pushed through the cracks, brushing the top of Dante’s head. He shut his eyes, arms trembling, gripping his brother’s arm tight. They didn’t move. They didn’t breathe.

And then—silence.

The thing’s weight shifted, claws clicking as it crawled away, echoing down another tunnel.

Dante exhaled shakily. They’d bought time.

Gene loosened his grip, letting Zane stand on unsteady feet. His head lolled, eyes glassy—but sharp enough to notice the way Gene was staring at him. His gaze was wrong. Too intent.

Gene swallowed. Even like this, Zane still looked beautiful. Maybe more so, covered in dirt and blood, trembling in his arms. Desire burned hot and cruel in his chest. He willed it down, but his lips curved anyway.

“You’re… beautiful,” Gene murmured, voice low, thick with obsession. “Even like this. Maybe more like this.”

Zane stiffened. His cracked voice rasped out, “Don’t.”

“What?” Gene tilted his head, feigning innocence, fingers brushing down Zane’s arm like he owned him. “You think I don’t remember? How you felt? I love you, Zane. I’ve always loved you you know that.”

Zane’s face twisted in disgust, his chest heaving with the effort of speaking. “Loved me?” His voice sharpened, rising despite the pain clawing through him. “...I l-oved you years ago, Gene…. And you ruined my life. You broke me. And now—” his voice cracked like shardes of glass, but he forced the words out— “now I’m finally h-appy. I’m with the love of my l-ife. And you decide you lo-ve me n-now?!”

Gene’s jaw clenched, his mask slipping. “So you’re really gonna keep choosing that mutt over me?!” His voice spat like venom, bitter and jagged. “After everything I’ve done for you? After I saved you down here?!”

Zane let out a hoarse, humorless laugh. His glassy eyes burned with hatred. The world felt fuzzy his body was in so much pain his throat screaming in protest of being used “Y-ou didn’t save me. You’re just another mo-nster in these tun-nels.”

“Hey!” Dante barked, shoving Gene back a step, fury sparking in his eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you?! He’s half-dead and you’re pulling this crap now?!”

Gene’s expression twisted, the crack in his control widening before he sneered. “Stay out of this, Dante. You’ve never understood.”

“Damn right I don’t,” Dante snapped, planting himself protectively between Zane and his brother. “And I don’t want to.”

Zane sagged against Dante’s shoulder, trembling, burying his face into the safer warmth as spots filled his vision. Gene’s chest burned at the sight. He wanted to rip Dante away, tear Ein out of Zane’s life, claim what was his. Instead, his fists curled so tight his nails dug into his palms, swallowing the rage as the sound of claws echoed again, scratching closer in the tunnels.

“We need to get out of here,” Gene muttered, voice flat, covering the wound of rejection. He hadn’t expected this—saving Zane, finding him first, proving himself better than that mutt—and still being cast aside.

“Right…” Dante said tightly, stepping forward. They pushed on, the shaft tightening around them until Dante suddenly looked back and froze.

On the ceiling, pale and twisted, the Wendigo scuttled silently behind them.

“AH! SHIT!” Dante shouted.

“Let’s go!” Gene barked, hauling zane into his arms pulling him tight against him.

“Hu-h—Ein?” Zane mumbled weakly, blinking back into hazy consciousness as someone lifted him. His vision blurred; his body buried into the person’s chest, nose wrinkling at the scent he hated.

The tunnel ended in a wooden wall. Gene kicked at it, Dante slamming his shoulder into the boards. Wood cracked, splinters flying, until daylight bled through. The wall gave way to a snowy cliff edge, frigid wind whipping their faces.

They stumbled sideways, hiding behind the wooden frame as the Wendigo sniffed and clawed on the other side.

The horizon stretched wide—trees bowed under snow, dawn spilling pale light across the forest. In the far distance, the main cabin stood like salvation.

“Shit, that’s far away,” Gene hissed, breath fogging in the air.

“How are we going to get down?” Dante muttered, his fingers numb, the freezing air biting deep until it almost felt warm—frostbite creeping in.

“I have no idea…” Gene admitted, glancing down at Zane.

Zane’s heavy-lidded eyes blinked slowly, staring down the cliff as the wind tugged at his blood-matted hair.

Chapter 28: gene? where'd you go?

(6:12) Aphmau POV

 

“Guys… have you seen Gene?” Sasha asked suddenly, glancing around nervously. Her voice made the small group stop in their tracks.

“I thought he was behind us. He should have caught up by now…” Aphmau said, worry creeping into her tone.

“Just great,” Aaron muttered, dragging a hand down his face. His patience was wearing thin, and the exhaustion in his voice was clear.

“I mean, he’s probably fine,” Sasha said quickly, almost too quickly. “He most likely went to find Zane.” But inside, she wished Gene had just stuck with her instead of chasing after Zane.

“But…” Aphmau started, her eyes flicking back down the corridor.

“He’ll be okay,” Aaron interrupted firmly. “We should keep moving. Who knows—maybe he’ll find Zane and Dante, and they’ll make it back to the cabin safe and sound. For now, we keep going.”

Aphmau sighed but nodded reluctantly, falling into step beside him. They walked in tense silence until the corridor opened into a wide cavern.

“Look there,” Aphmau said, pointing up.

“Wow, great…” Sasha muttered, folding her arms. Her gaze landed on the ladder that dangled uselessly from the top of the cavern wall.

“The ladder’s toast,” Aphmau huffed. It swung brokenly, barely halfway down.

“Look, I think I can climb up there—”

“No.” Aaron’s voice cut in sharply, leaving no room for argument.

“Yes!” Aphmau shot back. “And then I’ll find Ein. Then we can meet back up at the cabin. The plane will come, and we can all leave.”

“Aph, I’m not leaving you here. Not alone. Not again.” Aaron’s voice cracked with raw determination.

“You’re gonna go yourself?” Sasha asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yes. You can go back—someone has to bring the others upstairs. And I don’t want Sasha to go alone,” Aphmau reasoned, her voice steady but her eyes soft.

“Aph—” Aaron began, his stomach knotting with dread. He hated this plan.

“Aaron.” She met his eyes firmly. “I’ll be okay. Now get back with the others, and I’ll be back with Ein. I love you.”

Aaron’s jaw clenched before he finally exhaled, defeat written on his face. “…Fine. I love you too.”

“At least let me help you up,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Thank you,” Aphmau whispered.

Aaron cupped his hands, lifting her until she could grip the rocks. Aphmau hauled herself up, reaching the broken ladder. She glanced down at them one last time. “Bye!” she called, trying to sound cheerful.

They turned away, their footsteps fading. Aphmau sighed, the sound echoing in the cavern before she focused on the climb. Her fingers ached, but the relief of crawling onto solid ground made her laugh.

“I beat you!” she said to the empty air, dusting herself off. She turned right, spotting a stairway carved into the stone. Her relief was short-lived.

The ground trembled. A deafening rumble echoed, and she spun around just in time to see a chunk of the ceiling collapse. The stairs behind her crumbled, cutting off her retreat. Aphmau’s throat went dry. She swallowed hard and pressed on, stepping onto the wooden walkway bolted against the cavern wall.

One glance down made her stomach churn—it was a drop straight into darkness.

The cavern shook again, a chilling scream echoing through the stone. Dust rained from above as the walkway shuddered beneath her feet. Heart pounding, Aphmau ran, wooden planks creaking dangerously until she reached a small flight of stairs. Relief washed over her as her boots hit solid rock again.

Her eyes widened. Against the far wall stood a shrine—an altar decorated with deer skulls, their hollow eyes watching her. Symbols painted in blood spiraled around the skulls, shapes and letters she didn’t understand. A shiver ran down her spine. She backed away, turning quickly toward another passage.

Down another narrow walkway, she steadied herself against the railing as another tremor hit. Rocks rained down, smashing through part of the planks ahead. She froze, breathing hard.

“Okay… you got this,” she whispered, psyching herself up. With a deep breath, she jumped the gap, landing with a grunt before continuing on.

Another scream rang out, this one close—too close. Aphmau snatched a metal rod leaning against the wall, clutching it tightly. It wouldn’t kill a Windigo, but it would buy her precious seconds.

The wooden bridge led her to another chamber. She swallowed as she realized she’d have to drop down. Carefully, she lowered herself and landed lightly on the dirt floor.

The room was quiet, eerily so. Wooden beams stretched overhead, and at the far end loomed a massive set of metal doors. She started toward them, but before she could reach them, they slammed open.

A massive, white-grey wolf barreled in, snarling. Behind it, Ein appeared, shotgun in hand.

“Goddamnit!! Stay out of there!” Ein shouted, slamming the door behind him.

A flaming Windigo lunged at the door, its claws scraping metal. Aphmau sprinted over, throwing her weight against the door. She shoved her metal rod into the lock, wedging it tightly. Together, they forced it shut.

Breathing hard, Aphmau looked at him. “Ein? What are you doing here?!”

His ears flicked, one of them bent, piercings jangling softly. “Aph?! What are you doing here?”

“Hey, good news!” she said breathlessly. “The Windigo’s bite won’t turn you, and I was gonna warn you about them, but, uh—” she laughed weakly, glancing at the flaming monster still clawing outside— “guess you figured that out.”

“Yeah, I think I got it,” Ein muttered, a small smile flickering on his lips before fading. “I didn’t find Zane or Dante… but I found Wolfie.”

At the mention of his name, the wolf gave a sharp bark.

“So we’re gonna look somewhere else down here.”

Aphmau nodded, catching her breath. “Yeah. But if we need to, we’ll keep looking tomorrow—when we’ve got light. Hello, Wolfie.” She reached out to scratch the wolf behind the ear, her eyes softening.

“The plane should be here soon,” she added quietly, glancing toward the sealed door. “Hopefully.”

Ein nodded, his jaw tight.

Chapter 29: freezing

(6:36) Aphmau POV

“I was not prepared for how ugly that thing would be up close,” Aphmau muttered, shaking her arms as if to get the chill off her skin.

“Yeah,” Ein agreed, his expression tense. “Though… I noticed something kind of weird about it.”

“…What do you mean?” Aphmau asked, falling into step beside him as they started retracing the path she’d taken earlier.

“The Windigo—it had a scar.”

“So?” Aphmau frowned.

“I’ve seen it before.”

She blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw these old pictures once,” Ein said slowly, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to share the memory. “Some guy… had the same scar. And in the photos, he was… changing. Transforming into a Windigo.”

“You’re kidding.” Aphmau’s voice hitched, eyes wide.

Ein shook his head grimly. “It was one of the miners. From back in the 50s—the cave-in that trapped them. Which means…” He looked at her, his voice dropping. “That thing is at least eighty years old.”

Aphmau swallowed, hugging her arms to her chest. “Spunky for an old timer…”

“They cleaned this place out. Killed a lot of people.”

“They?” Aphmau’s heart skipped. “You mean… there are more of them?”

“Oh yeah.”

“How many?”

“Too many.” Ein’s jaw tightened. He started walking faster, Wolfie padding protectively at his side. “I think we’re close to the lair.”

Aphmau quickened her pace to keep up. “How can you tell?”

“I don’t know,” Ein admitted, his ears twitching uneasily. “I just… feel really terrible all of a sudden.”

“Ditto,” Aphmau whispered, her chest tight.

They cut through a narrow cave where the air shifted—the rotten, sour stench of decay hit them like a wall. The faint rush of water grew louder with every step until they emerged into a massive cavern.

A pool stretched across the chamber, black water glistening under the dim light. A wooden water wheel creaked and spun slowly, its steady groan echoing through the space.

“There’s no other way through,” Ein huffed, grimacing. He eased himself into the water with a hiss. “Shit, it’s cold. Come on.”

Aphmau crouched on the ledge, biting her lip. Her whole body screamed not to get in, but Ein’s hand was already outstretched. She took it, letting him help her slip into the icy water. A sharp gasp escaped her.

Wolfie barked once before plunging in happily, paddling ahead like the cold didn’t touch him.

“Man, it’s freezing…” Aphmau gasped, teeth chattering as she followed Ein. “I can’t feel my fingers.”

Ein dropped suddenly, vanishing under for a second.

“Shit—are you okay?!” Aphmau panicked, swimming toward him.

“Yeah,” Ein sputtered, surfacing again. “Just… lower part of the pool.” He kept swimming, following Wolfie’s lead toward the far side.

Wolfie climbed out first, shaking off his soaked fur. Ein pulled himself onto the stone ledge next, breath fogging in the cold.

“Ha! We made it,” Aphmau laughed, clinging to his hand as he helped haul her out. The relief of being free from the water made her giddy. She collapsed on her knees for a moment, laughing breathlessly as Wolfie licked her cheek.

They patted the wolf, sharing a brief moment of levity, before their eyes lifted to the right.

A large metal door stood there, framed in old bricks.

“This way?” Ein asked.

“Looks right,” Aphmau said, her chest still heaving from the swim.

Ein approached the door, gripping the rusted lever. He braced himself and yanked hard. With a groaning shriek, the heavy door flew open—

And a torrent of water burst through.

Aphmau screamed as the surge knocked them both off their feet. She tumbled back, coughing, as icy water filled her lungs. A human head rolled past in the flood, pale and lifeless, its empty eyes staring up before it was carried away into the lake.

The water finally slowed, draining back into the pool. Wolfie whined, nudging at Ein, his fur bristling. Ein sat up, shivering, and ruffled the wolf’s head in reassurance.

Then, as if to cut the tension, he shook his head violently, flinging freezing droplets all over Aphmau.

“Ugh! Hey!” she laughed, pushing her wet hair out of her face.

Ein smirked faintly, standing and offering her a hand. She took it, pulling herself up.

But then Ein froze. His ears shot upright, Wolfie’s fur rising in tandem.

Ein’s gaze slid back to the pool. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Something shifted in the water. Just beneath the surface, a shape darted—then vanished. The ripples spread in silence.

Ein growled low in his throat, instincts screaming. He moved fast, closing the space between himself and Aphmau.

Behind them, the sound came again. Water sloshing. Urgent. Fast. Something was swimming toward them.

Ein followed closely behind Aphmau, too lost in his own thoughts to notice when he bumped into her back.

“E-Ein… you see that?!” Aphmau whispered, her voice thin with fear.

Ein’s head snapped up, his throat going dry. Wolfie whined softly at his side, ears pinned back, as their eyes adjusted to the dim light above.

Chains dangled from the cavern ceiling. And hanging from one of them—swinging slightly, like the body had only just been strung up—was the headless corpse of the strange man who had helped them before. His neck hooked cruelly through a rusted chain, his jacket still stiff with old blood.

“Shit…” Ein breathed, his stomach twisting.

“Yeah…” Aphmau swallowed hard, bile creeping up her throat.

“Guess he didn’t have much luck finding them either, huh…” Ein tried to joke, but his voice cracked and the weak smile didn’t even reach his lips. His chest tightened. The guy had been odd—wired in ways that made everyone uneasy—but he’d helped Travis. He’d tried to help them. He hadn’t deserved this.

“We gotta find the others,” Aphmau whispered shakily, lowering her gaze. Wolfie nudged against her leg, grounding her. She ran her hand down his fur, silently thanking him for the comfort.

Ein wrapped an arm around her shoulders and steered her forward. Neither of them looked back.

They turned the corner past a warped wooden wall and stepped into a larger cavern. A wall of stone towered before them, slick with snow and jagged ice that glittered faintly in the light. The surface. Freedom.

“Shit…” Aphmau muttered. “Think we can make it?”

“Yeah,” Ein said, though his voice was unsure. He glanced at Wolfie, then back up at the frozen wall. “…but I don’t think he can. And I don’t know if I can carry him and climb at the same time.” He swallowed hard, hating even the thought of leaving Wolfie behind.

“You sure?” Aphmau asked softly, already dreading the idea of splitting up.

“…I’ll give it a shot.” Ein crouched and scooped Wolfie into one arm, cradling him close. The wolf licked his cheek once, and Ein pressed his forehead against the soft fur, drawing strength before facing the wall.

He dug his claws into the ice, testing his grip. Aphmau joined him, clawing at the snow and stone with raw determination.

The climb was brutal. The freezing air gnawed at their wet clothes, sucking the warmth from their skin until their fingers burned. Ice cracked beneath Ein’s feet, sending shards tumbling into the dark below. His balance wavered with Wolfie clutched to his chest, and his muscles screamed in protest.

“This is really fucking hard with one hand,” Ein grunted through clenched teeth.

Aphmau let out a strained laugh, blowing at the hair sticking to her frozen cheeks. “Almost there. Just… imagine it’s Zane waiting at the top.”

Her words hit their mark. Ein snorted, a sharp puff of air that fogged the ice in front of him. He adjusted Wolfie higher in his arm, getting a stronger grip on the wall.

“I’m going to find Zane,” he muttered, voice tight with effort. “I’m going to beg for forgiveness for leaving him to go fight. Then I’ll buy him as many sweets as the stores will sell.”

“And then?” Aphmau called, one jump away from the top, her breath coming in short clouds.

“Then…” Ein hauled himself higher, the snow cutting into his palms. “Then I’ll be there through every hospital visit, every doctor, every sleepless night—whatever it takes to help him heal. And when we’re finally home, we’ll sit and watch fucking My Little Horsies until my ears bleed, with Wolfie sitting right beside us.”

With a final surge, he reached the ledge. Aphmau grabbed Wolfie first, pulling the wolf up to safety before leaning down and helping Ein over the top. He collapsed onto the snow, chest heaving, his body shaking from exhaustion and cold. Aphmau flopped beside him, and for a moment, they both laughed—weak, breathless, but alive.

Snow crunched under their feet as they pushed themselves upright. The wind howled across the surface, sharp enough to sting their frozen skin. They started their trek toward the main cabin, trudging through the deep snow.

A piercing Windigo screech split through the forest. The sound rattled the trees, shaking loose snow from their branches. Aphmau and Ein froze, eyes locking in silent terror. Then they broke into a faster pace, their breaths puffing quick clouds into the night.

They veered right and came to an abrupt stop.

A small frozen lake stretched across their path. The exit—the way to the cabin—was on the far side.

“Oh, come on, again?!” Aphmau huffed, glaring at the water like it had personally betrayed her.

“Damn it,” Ein growled, a rumble deep in his chest.

Without hesitating, Aphmau dropped into the water first. The cold punched the breath out of her lungs, needles stabbing every inch of her body. It had to be below freezing.

Ein grimaced, tired of being half-drowned, but he jumped in after her, Wolfie splashing in close behind. They swam hard, their limbs sluggish from exhaustion.

Halfway across, a Windigo’s screech tore through the night sky. The sound was so close, so sharp, it sent crows exploding from the trees. The ripples around them shivered like the water itself had flinched.

By the time they pulled themselves out onto the far side, their bodies shook violently. Shivers racked down their spines; their lips had gone blue. Hypothermia was setting in.

The wind whipped around them, freezing their wet clothes stiff, burning their skin with every gust. They pushed forward through the snow, ducking under a fallen tree.

At the edge of a slope, they stopped. A ledge dropped sharply down.

“You good with jumping, or do I have to carry you again?” Ein asked Wolfie.

Wolfie barked once, then tried to leap into his arms.

“Fine,” Ein sighed, scooping him up again.

Aphmau fell in step beside him as they began crawling carefully down the ledge. But her boot hit a chunk of ice, sending them both sliding.

“Shit!”

They slammed hard into the ground below. The snow cushioned most of the fall, but pain still shot through their bodies. Ein grunted, immediately pulling Aphmau close and shielding her head as they landed.

“You okay?” he rasped, sitting up.

Aphmau winced, then nodded shakily. They staggered to their feet, trudging forward again.

The woods opened into a clearing. A run-down cabin sagged against the snowdrifts—one of the last properties Zane’s dad had owned.

They passed it quickly, but the moment they did, a Windigo scream ripped through the night. Louder. Closer.

“Run,” Aphmau whispered.

They didn’t need to be told twice. All three of them bolted, following the faint trail through the woods. Branches clawed at them, fallen trees forced them to duck, their boots slipping on snow as they skidded down small cliffs.

The thundering steps behind them grew closer. Too close.

Finally, the dark outline of the main cabin appeared through the storm. They stumbled to the door, Aphmau rushing ahead, pounding on the wood.

“Hey!” she cried, desperation cracking her voice. “Come on, open up!”

Chapter 30: its almost over....right?

(7:39) Ein POV

 

Zenix sprinted to the door and yanked it open, stepping back at the sight of a wolf loping in with them. He didn’t even have time to comment before Aphmau shoved past, slamming the door shut with a trembling hand. The silence afterward was suffocating. The cabin was pitch-black until Aphmau flicked on the light switch, the yellow glow stinging tired eyes.

“Turn it off.” Ein’s voice was sharp, his hand snapping over hers. Click. Darkness drowned them again.
“No need to draw attention,” he muttered.
Zenix nodded quickly, swallowing hard. “Are you guys okay?”

“Alive,” they both answered, voices hoarse and ragged.
“That’s about us… Oh! Zane and Dante are okay. Well—not okay—”

But the second Zane’s name left his mouth, Ein wasn’t listening anymore. He shoved past Zenix, his whole body tensing. His ears rang, filtering out everything but the faintest trace in the air—underneath the iron tang of blood, propane and the sickly-sweet rot of death, Zane’s scent was there. Faint. Fragile. But alive.

He bolted into the living room.

The sight hit like a gut punch.

Laurence sat on the floor beside Garroth, who was curled tightly around Zane, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs into his brother’s torn shirt. Travis was propped against the wall, pale, trembling, Dante clutching his hand with tears streaking down his face. Gene, scowling, allowed Sasha to wipe the gash across his forehead with shaking hands. Aaron stood near the frost-rimed window, tense, one hand hovering near his weapon before he turned and immediately ran to Aphmau, scooping her into his arms like he was afraid she’d vanish if he didn’t.

Ein didn’t hear them. He didn’t see anything except the figure crumpled in Garroth’s arms.

Zane.

His heart hammered, every beat so loud it drowned the world. He took a step, then another, his throat tightening as Zane blinked weakly up at him. Bloody, chapped lips cracked into the smallest of smiles.
“…Hi, Wolfie.”

Ein’s knees nearly buckled. A sob caught in his throat, the relief almost painful. He lurched forward—but froze.

The stench of decay slammed into him.

“Windigo.” His whisper was a growl, low and broken.

All eyes jerked upward. From the chandelier above, its limbs grotesquely jointed, a Windigo crouched, its pale body twitching with unnatural hunger. Time froze with it. Then, with a sickening screech, it leapt, vanishing into the floor above.

“Everyone out!” Aaron barked, already lunging to scoop Travis into his arms. Gene and Sasha grabbed Zenix, bolting for the back door. Garroth staggered upright, Zane’s weight limp in his arms, Laurence and Wolfie scrambling with him. Dante pulled Aaron toward the exit, but more Windigos skittered through the broken windows, four of them, teeth gnashing.

Aaron swore under his breath, but carried Travis out, setting him gently in the snow outside.

Ein’s gaze landed on the lamp beside him. A lightbulb. His hand shook as he reached for it, glass cold under his palm. Aphmau’s confused eyes locked on him—until he mouthed: Stay fucking still.

He squeezed. The glass shattered in his palm, pain sharp and grounding. He couldn’t lose Zane now. Not after everything.

One Windigo dropped down in front of him, its jaw unhinging in a nightmare scream. Every nerve screamed at him to flinch, but he didn’t move. The creatures jerked, twitching violently, then turned on each other, tearing into flesh and sinew in frenzied bursts.

Ein bolted to the light switch, drawing their gazes again as if baiting them. His pulse thundered.

“HEY!”

The broken, raw voice ripped through the chaos.

Everyone’s heads snapped toward the door. Zane was there, swaying, holding himself up with one trembling arm against the frame. He waved, barely, his bloody hand catching their attention like a flare. The Windigos shrieked, every one of them whipping toward him.

“Zane—” Ein’s voice cracked.

Aphmau darted to another pillar, one of the Windigos crawling after her, inches from her face, rancid breath fogging the air between them. She didn’t breathe, didn’t move, until it screeched and darted away. She bolted for the exit.

Ein’s hand slammed down on the light switch.

The gas heater roared. In a flash, fire exploded outward, ripping through the cabin in a deafening blast. The Windigos shrieked, their bodies igniting, flesh sloughing away to reveal burning bone as their spirits tore free into the night.

Everyone was thrown outside, snow swallowing them. The world spun—flames licking at clothes, skin seared raw, snow hissing as fire melted it in patches.

Aaron’s voice broke through first—“APHMAU!”—as he knelt by her, pressing his ear to her chest until he caught the frantic, erratic thud of her heart. Relief broke him, but his hands shook as he pulled her close.

Garroth collapsed into the snow, Zane’s unconscious body still in his arms, Laurence curling beside them, fingers lacing with Zane’s as if to anchor him.

Ein wasn’t so lucky.

The explosion hurled him straight through a window, his body slamming against a tree with a crack that left his vision white-hot. He groaned, blood filling his mouth, flames scorching across his body for one agonizing second before fading, leaving only the burning house behind.

Then—chop, chop, chop.

Helicopters.

His head tilted back, snow sticking to blood and sweat as he laughed, ragged and bright. “It’s finally over.”

Through the haze, he saw the garroth curled around Zane’s body, watching his chest rise and fall, shallow but steady. Relief cut through him like a blade.

The helicopters descended, snow flurries whipping around them. Medics poured out, lifting Travis first, then Zane, their voices urgent but practiced. “BP dropping—get fluids in now—fracture on the skull—hold pressure—”

Ein staggered to his feet, every bone screaming. He wouldn’t be left behind. Not now. He forced his body forward, collapsing into the helicopter where Zane lay. Wolfie limped up the ramp after him, curling into his lap, his head heavy across Ein’s legs.

Garroth and Laurence climbed in too, both pale and hollow-eyed, but they clung to each other’s hands like lifelines. Garroth’s gaze never left Zane’s bloodied form as medics cut his shirt away, swabbing, pressing, working fast to stop the bleeding.

Ein smiled weakly, his hand finding Zane’s cold fingers. He laced them together, held tight.

And as the helicopter lifted off, the snowstorm blurring beneath them, his eyes finally fluttered shut, exhaustion pulling him under at last.

Chapter 31: hey cupcake...

(11:23) Zane POV 

“...-an…”

The sound broke through the fog first. Then warmth. Real warmth—after what felt like an eternity of nothing but cold.

A steady beeping echoed beside him, slow and rhythmic, tethering him to life. White light seared Zane’s eyes as he blinked open, wincing at the sting. His lashes fluttered shut again before he tried once more, slower this time.

He flexed his fingers experimentally. A gentle pressure flexed back.

Turning his head with effort, Zane saw him.

Ein sat there, bandaged and bruised, hair messy and sticking up at odd angles. His arm was wrapped from elbow to wrist, two fingers tightly splinted. He wore just a soft gray t-shirt and joggers, his exhaustion plain—but he was smiling. Their fingers were laced together like they hadn’t let go since the fight. A paper coffee cup rested abandoned on the tray table, long gone cold.

When Zane’s eyes opened, Ein’s breath hitched. He stood so quickly the chair squeaked against the floor, leaning over until their foreheads touched. Tears slipped hot and unashamed from Ein’s eyes, dropping onto Zane’s cheeks.

Zane gave a soft, broken giggle that trembled into hiccups. “You saved me,” he rasped, voice raw and cracked.

“No,” Ein whispered back fiercely, lips brushing his. “You saved me.” Then he kissed him—gentle, trembling, the kind of kiss that ached with weeks of fear and longing.

The door burst open.

“ZU-ZU!” Garroth’s voice cracked like a whip. The bag he carried hit the floor with a thud as he bolted forward. Ein quickly eased Zane upright, careful of the IV lines, before Garroth crashed into him with a hug so hard it drew a groan of pain from Zane’s chest. Still, he stayed still, endured it—because feeling his brother’s arms shake and his tears soak through the hospital gown was worth every ache.

Zane tilted his head, pressing their foreheads together. More tears burned down his own face, but this time, they were warm. They were good.

“Here, slow sips,” Ein murmured, ever patient, lifting a paper cup of room-temp water to Zane’s lips. He tilted it carefully, letting him drink in tiny swallows. The cool liquid slid down his ravaged throat, soothing like nothing else. Zane sighed, breath catching on a shaky smile.

Laurence appeared then, scooping up the dropped bag with a small laugh, relief flooding his features. “I’m glad you’re awake,” he said as he dragged over a plastic chair. “You’ve been out for three weeks. Travis is still in a coma but stable. He had to get his knee bones replaced but they saved the leg. Aphmau’s fine—released after two days. Hypothermia, like the rest of us.” His smile softened. “Gene and the others are alive, though they’ve gone their separate ways…so I’d call that good news.”

He set the bag on his lap and pulled out takeout containers, the rich smell of broth filling the sterile room. “We brought ramen. Hospital food sucks—I know from experience. At least this you can eat…the soup part, anyway.”

He passed a bowl to Ein before pulling out his own, then Garroth’s. Garroth hadn’t let go of Zane, half sprawled across the bed like a limpet, but he eagerly accepted his share one-handed. He picked up a spoonful of broth, blew on it, then guided it toward Zane’s lips.

Zane sighed, almost melting at the taste, a tiny smile tugging weakly at the corner of his mouth. He leaned into Garroth’s hair, murmuring, “Thanks…” between slow sips.

His gaze shifted then, catching the familiar gray fur curled at Ein’s side. His eyes widened slightly. “...I see you got a wolf?” His voice was stronger now, touched with curiosity.

Ein’s hand immediately dropped to scratch between Wolfie’s ears. The wolf huffed happily, pressing into his touch. “Yeah,” Ein said with a crooked grin. “Hospital wouldn’t let me keep him in at first, but once the vet cleared him and we registered him as an emotional support animal…” He trailed off, running his fingers through Wolfie’s thick fur. “They let him stay. Isn’t he cute? His name’s Wolfie.”

Zane blinked, then flushed faintly, a laugh bubbling up—bright, real, almost startling in its joy. “Perfect.”

The sound of it filled the room, mixing with Garroth’s relieved chuckle, Laurence’s soft sigh, and Ein’s smile so wide it looked like it hurt. For the first time in weeks, warmth truly stayed.

Chapter 32: my little robot

(15:32) dante POV

 

Dante sat quietly at Travis’s bedside, the steady beep-beep of the monitor the only sound in the room. He absently rubbed his thumb across the back of Travis’s hand, grounding himself in the simple rhythm of his breathing. Then—he froze.

Travis’s face twitched.

His left hand lifted shakily, dragging across his own face as he groaned, voice hoarse and scratchy.

“Hey, man,” Dante whispered, relief flooding through him so fast it nearly knocked him off the chair. He leaned closer, smiling despite the sting of tears behind his eyes.

Travis blinked, eyes sluggish as they opened. His hand slipped away from his face, and he turned his head just enough to see Dante. A small, lopsided smile tugged at his lips.

“Hey yourself,” Travis rasped, his tone carrying a soft flirt even through the weakness. He let out a breathy laugh before a harsh cough rattled his chest.

“Whoa, easy, easy—here.” Dante reached for the cup on the bedside table, guiding the straw to Travis’s lips. “Small sips.”

Travis drank slowly, the cool water easing some of the rasp in his throat. When he leaned back, Dante set the cup aside carefully.

“You okay…am I okay?” Travis asked, blinking up at him like he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Yeah,” Dante said firmly, squeezing his hand. “I’m okay. And you’re okay too. Plus,” he grinned, “you’ve got a super cool metal knee now.”

That earned him another crooked smile. “Yeah? I’m like…half robot now.” Travis chuckled weakly, the sound already brighter. “So, how’s Zane? And the others?”

Dante huffed a laugh, shaking his head fondly. “Zane got released about three days ago. He’s with Garroth and Ein—still recovering, but doing good. Everyone’s good now. Better than I thought we’d ever get.”

Travis’s eyes softened, that usual spark starting to creep back into them. He tugged lightly at Dante’s hand with his good one. “So, I wake up with a robot leg, and you’re still here. Guess I lucked out.”

Dante rolled his eyes but his ears flushed red as he leaned back in the chair, still holding tight. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta stick around to make sure your flirting doesn’t get rusty.”

Travis let out another quiet laugh, this one less broken, more real. “Guess that means I’m in good hands.”

“Always,” Dante said, meaning every word.

Chapter 33: wrap up

It would be a long recovery for everyone, therapy included, but together everything would work out. The road ahead was slow and painful, but each new sunrise was another small step forward, another quiet victory. There would still be nights full of screaming and terror, shadows of the past clawing into their dreams—but every time, comfort was always waiting. A knock at the door, a phone ringing in the middle of the night, a hand reaching out in the dark—reminders that none of them were ever truly alone.

Zane moved close to his brother, finally finding peace in the nearness of family. Vlad chose to stay in a hotel nearby, never far, always ready to sit with them over coffee or laugh at old memories. He soaked up every moment with his older brothers, determined not to waste a second of their newfound closeness.

A few months after Zane’s recovery, Ein proposed under the stars, holding his hand like it was the most fragile, precious thing in the world. His vow was simple but unshakable—he would never leave Zane’s side again. Zane, tears in his eyes, believed him.

Dante and Travis learned to laugh through the little struggles recovery brought. Travis’s new knee worked like a miracle, but on cold, rainy nights it ached something awful. Dante always noticed before Travis admitted it—how he’d rub at his leg absentmindedly or wince when standing too fast. Without a word, Dante would grab the heating pad, wrap it carefully around the metal joint, and settle in beside him with a blanket. “See? Perks of being half-robot,” Dante teased once, “you get special treatment.” Travis rolled his eyes, grinning despite the pain, and leaned into him. Those quiet evenings, full of warmth and teasing, made even the worst nights bearable.

Garroth kept going to therapy. It wasn’t easy—digging up the reasons for why he had put Gene and his old friend through hell years ago was painful, raw—but it was necessary. The difference now was that he wasn’t doing it alone. Lurence was with him every step, steady and unwavering. When the meds made him feel distant, Lurence’s voice brought him back. When the shame got heavy, Lurence reminded him how far he had come. It was a slow journey, but one filled with small triumphs that stitched hope into every day.

Together, they weren’t perfect—but they were healing. And for the first time in a long time, the future looked bright.

Notes:

Thank you for giving it a shot!!