The road to Gideon Raithe's cabin twisted like a serpent, flanked by crooked trees that clawed at the car windows. No GPS signal. No phone service. Only the crunch of gravel beneath tires and the low thrum of unease humming between Arthur and Luke.
"You trust this guy?" Luke asked, breaking the silence.
"I trust what he knows," Arthur replied.
The cabin looked like it had been swallowed by time—its wood splintered, porch sagging, a single flickering lantern the only sign of life. They approached slowly, the air colder than it should have been.
Arthur knocked.
The door opened halfway. A man in his late sixties, tall but hunched, peered at them with bloodshot eyes and ink-stained hands.
"You found me," Gideon said. "That's a problem."
Arthur raised the photo of the symbol. "We have questions."
Gideon stared at it, then turned around without a word. The door creaked open fully.
Inside, the place was a shrine of forgotten truths—walls lined with yellowing papers, old cassette tapes, and a massive circular mural carved into the floor with strange, twisting glyphs.
Luke's gaze was drawn to a framed newspaper clipping above the fireplace.
"Ten Vanish in Experimental Group: The Circle Beneath Declared a Hoax"
"They lied," Gideon rasped, as if reading Luke's thoughts. "The group didn't disband. It fractured. Some tried to run. Others… they became something else. Echoes of themselves."
Arthur stepped toward the mural. "What does the symbol mean?"
"It's not a symbol," Gideon said. "It's a door."
"A door to what?"
Gideon didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked to the wall, pulling down an old tape recorder. He hit play.
A voice crackled to life—a young woman, terrified. "I saw them again. In the mirror. They're getting closer. My memories aren't mine anymore. I'm becoming her. I'm—"
Click.
"She was part of the last group," Gideon said softly. "She was your mother, Luke."
The world seemed to stop.
Luke's breath caught in his throat. "What?"
"She volunteered when we still believed it was safe," Gideon continued. "Your mother... she was supposed to lead us to the truth. But she lost herself in it. Like so many of us."
Arthur turned to Luke, eyes narrowing. "You knew?"
Luke shook his head, barely audible. "Not this. Not... this."
The cabin creaked suddenly, like it too remembered something it didn't want to. Dust fell from the ceiling. A cold breeze swept through the floorboards.
Arthur knelt by the mural. Something was beneath it—scratches, fresh.
He looked up. "This place was sealed for a reason."
And then—
CRACK.
The boards beneath Arthur splintered, and he fell through.
He landed in darkness.
Breathing heavily. Alone.
Chains clinked faintly in the distance.
And a voice whispered from the shadows.
"Arthur Virelith… we've been waiting."