One moment there was only the crooked path, the next a clearing stretched ahead, silvered by moonlight and utterly empty.

No fairy lights. No music. No clusters of laughing students. Just trampled grass, a ring of cold stones, and the unmistakable feeling of being completely, terribly alone.

The forest had gone quiet behind you. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that pressed against your ears like water.

Far off, something rustled. Then stopped.

You were still wearing the pretty party dress they had insisted on. It did nothing against the cold. The cold that was already creeping up your bare arms, settling into your skin like it planned to stay.

Somewhere beyond the treeline, an owl shrieked, and the sound splintered through the stillness.

The path you’d come through looked the same as every other patch of darkness now. Twisted roots. Gnarled trunks. No sign of the girls. No sign of anyone.