One by one, they descended.
The air inside was cold. Damp. The stone walls were close, the tunnel barely wide enough for them to walk shoulder to shoulder. Old carvings lined the walls - faint, worn symbols etched in spirals and angular patterns that hurt to look at for too long.
"Prayers," Sophie murmured, running her fingers over them.
"Or warnings," Zoey replied.
They walked for what felt like hours. The path twisted, sloped downward, sotis narrowing so tightly they had to move sideways to squeeze through. Water dripped from the ceiling in irregular patterns. Once, they found bones - small, delicate, human. Arranged in a circle. No one said a word.
Eventually, the tunnel opened into a wide chamber.
The walls were covered in symbols. Hundreds of them. Scrawled in blood, scratched with stone, burned into wood. In the center of the room stood a massive totem - root and bone and stone fused into a towering structure that stretched up into darkness.
Sophie approached it. "It’s a map."
Jude frowned. "A map of what?"
"The island."
She pointed to the spiral at its base - the beach. Then upward, through twisted paths marked by teeth and eyes. Toward a circle at the top. "The center. The source."
Zoey touched one of the symbols beside the circle. It pulsed beneath her hand.
Suddenly, the chamber darkened. A low vibration rumbled through the ground, like sothing vast and buried shifting in its sleep.
"It knows we’re here," Emma whispered.
Then the totem groaned.
A section near the base split open.
Inside was a tunnel.
Deeper.
Darker.
Jude looked at the others. "We go in together. We don’t split."
They nodded.
The new tunnel was colder, and the air began to taste different - thin and sour, like the breath of sothing long dead. The walls were lined with more bones now, woven into the roots that ford the tunnel. Faces peered from the stone - frozen expressions of fear, worship, and ecstasy.
The tunnel ended at a stone chamber. A shrine.
At its center lay a basin, filled with liquid that shimred silver-blue in the low light. Around it were four statues - faceless, genderless, arms raised toward the ceiling.
Sophie stepped forward slowly. "This is where they made the pact."
"What pact?" Jude asked.
"The one that made the island like this. That called the monsters. That gave them their form."
Zoey pointed to the basin. "What’s that?"
Sophie knelt beside it. "I think it’s what they drank. The Offering."
Emma stepped back. "And then they changed."
Jude felt his chest tighten. "Do you think Natalie drank it?"
Sophie looked at him. "I think soone made her."
They left the chamber in silence.
When they erged from the tunnel hours later, the sun was already low in the sky. The arch still stood, unmoving. But the shimr was gone again.
Jude turned to look back once.
Sothing watched from the shadows behind the trees.
When they reached the camp, they found chaos.
The fire had been doused. Blankets torn. Half the supplies scattered across the ground. Lucy sat on her knees in the center of it all, her face pale, her hands shaking.
"She’s gone," she whispered when she saw Jude.
"Who?"
"Grace."
Jude ran to her, dropping to his knees. "What happened?"
"She followed Stella into the trees. I tried to stop them. I tried."
Sophie crouched beside her. "What do you an followed?"
Lucy’s voice cracked. "She was smiling. Just like Stella."
Jude stood slowly. His eyes scanned the clearing.
Rose stood by the edge of the camp, watching him.
And she was smiling, too.
Jude took a step toward Rose, but she didn’t move. Her hands were folded in front of her, her body still and her smile soft - but it wasn’t gentle. It was patient. Expectant. Like she’d known all along this would happen. Like she had been waiting for everyone else to catch up.
Lucy clung to Sophie, trembling, her words tumbling in whispers. "I tried to stop Grace, I swear I did. I grabbed her wrist, begged her not to go, but she looked at like... like I was a stranger. Like she didn’t know anymore."
Sophie held her close, stroking her hair, but her eyes were on Rose now. They all were. Jude’s heart pounded. Rose had never looked more beautiful, more radiant, but that was part of the horror - the way the light caught her skin, the way the breeze curled her hair around her face. She didn’t look possessed or corrupted. She looked divine.
"What did you do to Grace?" Jude asked, his voice low.
Rose finally spoke, her voice like velvet. "I showed her the truth."
"What truth?" Zoey stepped in front of Lucy, protective, eyes sharp.
"That we belong to the island now. That we always did. We fought it for so long, tried to bend it to our will, to ta it, to survive it. But this place doesn’t want survivors. It wants devotion."
Emma ca to stand beside Jude, her face unreadable. "You sound like the people who built those tunnels."
Rose smiled wider. "Because I rember them. They weren’t strangers. They were us. Or they beca us. This is a cycle. It’s always been. The island chooses a center. And the center spreads."
Layla erged from the trees, her expression calm. Too calm.
"We found Grace," she said.
Everyone turned. She walked into the clearing with Stella behind her - and Grace between them. Grace’s dress was damp, her hair dripping like she’d stepped into a stream. Her feet were bare, and her lips parted in a smile that mirrored Rose’s. Tilted. Quiet. Wrong.
Susan’s hand flew to her mouth. "Grace..."
"She’s fine," Stella said gently. "Better than fine."
"No," Lucy whispered, trembling harder. "Not her too..."
Jude moved toward Grace slowly. "Tell you’re okay. Tell you know who I am."
Grace tilted her head, like a child studying a puzzle. "You’re the anchor."
He froze. "What?"
"You keep trying to hold us here. In fear. In doubt. You want us to question the island. But we’re not ant to fear it, Jude. We’re ant to worship it."
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