Stella’s lips trembled. "Rose?"
No one answered.
Layla woke next. She sat up suddenly, coughing, her hands clawing at her throat. Natalie grabbed her and held her close, murmuring sothing in her ear. Grace finally spoke too, her voice hoarse. "I rember being in the water. The dark. I thought I was drowning."
"You were," Jude said. "In sothing deeper than water."
The clearing was filling with noise again. Confusion. Tears. Questions. The once-synchronized seven were now scattered, broken back into individuals, each struggling to rember what was real. The unity, the humming, the whispers - it was fading. And in its place was grief.
They lost Rose.
No one said it. But everyone felt it.
It wasn’t just that she had vanished. It was the way she had gone - like smoke. No body. No final word. Only the echo of her voice in their bones, in the humming that still itched at the edges of their minds.
They began the slow trek back through the jungle. Jude led, machete in hand, carving through brush that had regrown impossibly fast. The island, no longer watching in silence, now whispered again. Leaves rustled. Birds called. But the sense of unease lingered in every step, in every gust of wind that seed to brush their necks too deliberately.
When the treehouse ca into view, several of the won began to cry. Susan collapsed against Stella. Grace sat down in the dirt and wept openly. Even Zoey, who’d barely flinched during the burning, had gone quiet, her face pale and drawn.
They entered cautiously. Everything was exactly as they left it, down to the cold tea mugs and the rumpled blankets. But it felt different. Like a weight had lifted, only to be replaced by sothing colder. Emptiness. Absence.
Rose had been part of every day since they arrived. Her laughter. Her warmth. Her strength. Even after her change, she had ant sothing. And now she was gone. Taken by the island. Or claid by whatever lay beneath it.
That night, they all stayed in the treehouse together. No one wanted to sleep apart. No one wanted to risk the dreams.
Jude lay awake with Lucy curled at his side, her head on his chest. Emma slept on his other shoulder, her fingers laced with his. Zoey stood watch by the window. Sophie dozed on the couch, one hand wrapped around a knife hilt. Stella slept beside Grace, the two of them murmuring quiet mories to one another until they both drifted off.
There was no seduction. No heat. Just presence. The need to be near one another. To feel skin and breath and hear the sound of a real, living heartbeat beside them.
At so point in the early morning, Lucy whispered, "You think she’s really gone?"
Jude didn’t answer right away. Then, softly, "I think part of her is. But another part..."
He trailed off.
Lucy nodded slowly against his chest. "Yeah. too."
A few days passed.
They tried to return to normal. They fished. Foraged. Cooked. They reinforced the traps around the house and checked the paths daily. Grace started humming again - but softly, and only to herself. Not that hum. Just lullabies. Susan began drawing again with bits of charcoal on bark, always sketching the sa tree from mory, then burning the bark afterward. Natalie helped rebuild one of the smaller huts that had been abandoned when the group splintered.
But the tension never fully left.
They were all waiting for sothing to happen.
And then one night, it did.
Jude was walking the periter just before sunset when he heard a soft whistle from the trees. Not a bird. Not the wind. It was deliberate. Human.
He froze.
A shadow moved between the trees, quick and low. Too tall for a boar. Too quiet for a monkey. His heart thudded as he raised his machete and took a slow step forward.
"Who’s there?" he called.
No answer.
Then another whistle. Closer this ti. From behind.
He spun around - but there was nothing. Just trees. Thick roots. Leaves shifting in the breeze.
But then... sothing stepped out.
A woman.
Naked. Covered in mud and moss and streaks of black oil. Her hair hung in dripping clumps. Her eyes -
Black.
All black.
Not just the irises. The entire eye.
Jude stumbled back.
The woman stepped closer.
Then smiled.
And it wasn’t Rose.
It was another.
Another like her.
Another vessel.
And she wasn’t alone.
Behind her, in the deeper part of the jungle, Jude saw movent. Four. Five. More. All shaped like won. All moving together, shadows slipping between trees like whispers through fabric.
Jude turned and ran.
By the ti he burst into the treehouse, breathless and wide-eyed, everyone was already on their feet. The others had felt it too - sohow. The shift. The change in the air.
"What is it?" Zoey asked, grabbing her knife.
"Not Rose," Jude gasped. "Worse. Others. More."
Lucy’s face went pale. "The island... it didn’t lose anything. It sent her to us."
Sophie grabbed her bow. "Sent who?"
Emma stepped beside her. "The first. She was only the first."
Jude looked around at the won he loved. The ones he’d fought for. The ones he’d nearly lost. And now, standing here, he realized...
The island was far from done.
It had just opened its real gate.
And whatever had stepped through...
Was coming.
Jude could feel it - like a low hum in his spine, the kind that buzzed just before lightning struck. The air inside the treehouse was pulsing with invisible tension, as if the island itself had drawn breath and was holding it. The others sensed it too. Zoey had already moved to block the door, crouched low with her knife ready. Sophie paced, her bow strung and an arrow already notched. Emma and Lucy flanked Jude, their expressions unreadable but their eyes flicking constantly toward the windows. No one said a word. They didn’t have to. They all knew sothing had changed.
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