The quiet of the night is comforting for some, but for others, it’s a nightmare.

  Each person sees the world in their own way, thinks in a different style—that’s what makes humans unique. Each of them carries a world inside, a world that may be familiar or strange, or perhaps… a personal hell from which there is no escape.

  —

  Heavy footsteps crushed the dry leaves.

  Distant birds called out, while closer ones screeched warnings. A faint rustling between the trees, heavy breathing, and unseen eyes lurking in the darkness.

  Yet, Yusuf walked steadily, as if the forest belonged to him. Or maybe… as if he belonged to the forest.

  When he reached the camp, the others sat around a small fire struggling to keep the cold at bay. But no one looked at ease.

  Silence hung heavy in the air, their gazes were empty, and conversations were scarce. But something was off about them. As if they all knew something—something terrifying—that they refused to speak about.

  But Omar? Omar was different. He was restless, his eyes darting around, filled with fear, as if searching for an escape that didn’t exist. Then, suddenly, he stood up, as if a great weight was crushing his chest.

  "How long?" he asked, his voice shaking but firm. "How long will we stay like this? What’s the end of all this? When will we have a normal life like everyone else?!"

  No one answered. No one even looked up. But if you looked into their eyes, you’d see something their faces didn’t show—apathy… and regret.

  Apathy, because they knew Omar was right, yet they were powerless.

  Regret, because they knew what was coming next.

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  Silence. Heavy enough to crush the soul.

  Then…

  A scream.

  Omar’s scream tore through the night before it was abruptly cut off.

  In a single moment, everything around them was covered in blood.

  There was no body. Just remains, shredded beyond recognition, scattered in all directions.

  No one moved. No one even dared to look at what was left of him. But Yusuf stood up, stepped forward, looked down at the remains in silence… and began collecting them, one by one.

  He tossed them into the fire, watching as they burned, as if performing a sacred ritual.

  There was no wailing, no mourning. Just an eerie silence, as if Omar’s death was expected. As if… it was normal.

  Then, Yusuf broke the silence, speaking calmly:

  "What are we eating today? Let’s go hunting."

  No one objected.

  No one asked about Omar.

  As if nothing had happened.

  —

  Yusuf, Omar, Sarah, Frankie, Salma, and Ali.

  Sarah and Frankie walked through the dense trees, their feet sinking slightly into the damp ground, the fog wrapping around them like a curtain concealing the horizon.

  "How long have we been here?" Sarah asked.

  Frankie, staring at the ever-grey sky: "In this forest, time doesn’t exist. We don’t know the difference between day and night. We don’t even know if it’s the moon or the sun shining above us. Nothing ever changes."

  "Sometimes, I feel like we’ve been here for a whole year..." she murmured.

  Frankie smirked bitterly. "What does it matter? Do you really think there’s an end to this cycle? We’re trapped. We’ll either die here, or… we’ll leave, but we won’t return as we were. This place will stay with us forever."

  "Why are you so pessimistic?" Sarah asked. "We have to hold onto hope."

  Frankie sighed. "Hope? We cling to it only because we lack the courage to end this ourselves."

  —

  While they spoke, Salma wandered alone in an unknown part of the forest, drawn by strange sounds—whispers from afar. Or maybe… whispers right in her ear.

  As she walked, the fog thickened, but it wasn’t normal fog—it felt like heavy breathing surrounding her. Scattered bones and skulls appeared on the ground.

  She froze, her heart pounding violently. The terror wasn’t from the bones themselves, but from the question creeping into her mind: "Who did these belong to? Were there others here before us?"

  Despite her fear, she kept moving forward until she reached a small village. Tiny wooden huts stood closely together, their windows opening into nothingness, their doors creaking in the wind.

  She approached one of the houses and peeked inside. Empty.

  Another? Empty.

  A third, a fourth, a fifth… No sign of life.

  But in the center of the village, a small wooden box sat locked tight.

  It was covered in strange carvings and symbols in an unfamiliar language, its surface black with violet edges.

  She tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge.

  Looking around, she felt something watching her—as if the missing eyes of the skeletons were still there.

  She took the box

  and returned to the others, unaware that what lay inside… would not be opened so easily.