The town square had grown darker, the amber sky fading into deep indigo. The air turned colder, carrying an unsettling stillness that felt unnatural. Ethan stood near the broken fountain, the notebook clutched in his hands.

  Lucas leaned against a lamppost, flipping a small pocketknife open and closed with practiced ease. Damien and Mia huddled nearby, whispering about their next steps.

  “Alright,” Ethan said, his voice firm. “We’ve explored enough of the town to know there’s nothing useful here. If we want answers, we need to check the forest.”

  “Nope,” Lucas said immediately, snapping his knife shut. “Bad idea, Captain. I told you, the forest doesn’t play nice.”

  “I heard you,” Ethan said, glaring at him. “But sitting here isn’t getting us anywhere.”

  Lucas shrugged, smirking. “Your funeral.”

  Mia shifted nervously. “Do we have to go in? Can’t we wait until morning?”

  “Morning doesn’t make it safer,” Damien muttered.

  Ethan tightened his grip on the notebook, trying to steady his nerves. “We’ll stay near the edge. Just enough to see what’s in there. If it’s dangerous, we’ll come back.”

  Mia hesitated but finally nodded. Damien sighed, rolling his eyes. “Great. Let’s add ‘suicide mission’ to the list of bad ideas.”

  Lucas, to everyone’s surprise, pushed off the lamppost. “Fine. I’ll come. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t get yourselves killed.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Ethan muttered.

  The forest loomed ahead, its twisted branches forming a wall of shadows. The group paused at the edge, their unease palpable.

  Mia clutched her arms. “It’s...too quiet.”

  Ethan nodded. The absence of sound was oppressive—no rustling leaves, no chirping insects. Even their footsteps felt muffled, swallowed by the dense air.

  “Stay close,” Ethan said, leading the way.

  The trees were gnarled and ancient, their roots curling like claws across the forest floor. A faint mist swirled around their feet, making it hard to see where they were stepping.

  “This feels wrong,” Mia whispered.

  Damien snorted. “What gave it away? The creepy trees or the deathly silence?”

  “Shut up,” Ethan hissed, his eyes scanning the shadows.

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  After what felt like hours, they stumbled into a small clearing. At its center stood a lone tree, its trunk thicker and darker than the others. Carved into its bark was a symbol—the broken-rayed sun from the notebook.

  Ethan froze. “It’s the same symbol.”

  “Great,” Damien said. “Now can we leave?”

  But Ethan stepped closer, drawn to the carving. His fingers brushed the rough bark, and for a moment, everything around him seemed to ripple.

  A voice—low and guttural—whispered through the air: “You can’t leave what you are.”

  Ethan stumbled back, his heart racing. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Damien asked, frowning.

  Ethan turned to the group. Mia’s face was pale, her eyes wide with fear. Lucas, however, was watching Ethan with an unnerving intensity.

  “You touched it, didn’t you?” Lucas said quietly.

  Ethan nodded, his breathing uneven.

  “Yeah,” Lucas said, shaking his head. “Bad move.”

  Before Ethan could respond, the shadows around the clearing began to shift. Dark tendrils of mist coiled through the trees, converging on the group.

  “Run!” Lucas shouted.

  The group bolted, their footsteps thundering through the forest. The mist seemed alive, swirling and thickening as it chased them.

  Ethan’s lungs burned as he ran, the notebook clutched tightly in his hand. Behind him, Mia let out a cry as she stumbled over a root.

  “Help her!” Ethan shouted, skidding to a stop.

  Damien hesitated but turned back, grabbing Mia’s arm and pulling her to her feet. The two of them sprinted to catch up.

  “Keep moving!” Lucas barked, his voice cutting through the chaos.

  The mist was relentless, closing in with each passing second. Ethan’s vision blurred, the world around him spinning. A faint buzzing filled his ears, growing louder until—

  Ethan collapsed onto the cobblestones of the town square, gasping for air. The others were sprawled nearby, equally breathless.

  “What...was that?” Mia managed, her voice trembling.

  Lucas stood, brushing himself off. “That,” he said grimly, “is why you don’t go into the forest.”

  Damien glared at him. “You could’ve warned us it was alive.”

  “I did,” Lucas snapped. “You didn’t listen.”

  Ethan sat up, clutching his head. The buzzing in his ears had faded, but his heart was still racing. “That tree...the symbol...”

  “Forget the tree,” Lucas said, his tone harsh. “You’re lucky we got out at all.”

  “No,” Ethan said firmly, looking at the notebook. “There’s something about that tree. It’s connected to all of this.”

  Lucas stared at him, his jaw tightening. “Drop it, Captain. Some questions don’t need answers.”

  Ethan met his gaze, unflinching. “You know more than you’re telling us. Why?”

  Lucas didn’t answer. Instead, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the empty streets.

  Later that night, the group holed up in an abandoned diner near the town square. The windows were boarded up, and the faint light of a lantern cast long shadows across the room.

  Ethan sat at a booth, the notebook open in front of him. Mia sat across from him, silent but watchful. Damien was at the counter, fiddling with an old radio in a futile attempt to get a signal.

  “What if Lucas is right?” Mia said quietly. “What if we’re better off not knowing?”

  Ethan shook his head. “If we don’t figure this out, we’ll never get out of here.”

  Mia frowned, glancing at the notebook. “But what if the answers make things worse?”

  Before Ethan could respond, Damien let out a triumphant shout. “Got it!”

  The radio crackled to life, emitting a burst of static. Then, a voice—faint and distorted—cut through the noise:

  “The clock...ticks...backward...”

  The signal died, plunging the room back into silence.

  “What the hell was that?” Damien asked, his face pale.

  Ethan stared at the notebook, the symbol on its cover seeming to pulse in the dim light.

  “The clock,” he murmured, his gaze shifting to the window. Outside, the broken clock tower loomed in the darkness, its hands frozen at midnight.