Night falls like a velvet curtain, the fire crackling at the center of our little circle. The stars wink overhead, and laughter drifts through the jungle air, tangled with the scent of toasted marshmallows and whatever mystery stew someone managed to whip up.
Maggy, Zoe, Amina, and I are sprawled in camp chairs, nestled between tents and shadows, warm drinks in hand and gossip in full swing.
"The new guys are cute," Zoe says, a sly smile tugging at her lips.
"You're right," Amina chimes in, twirling her hair. "Especially Tony. That smile? Dangerous."
"Excuse me," I raise a brow. "This conversation is strictly for the unattached."
"Which is why I'm fully qualified," Amina declares, lifting her mug like a toast.
"Same here," Zoe adds, grinning. "Single, free, and ready to flirt irresponsibly."
Maggy turns her gaze on me. "And you?"
I hesitate just a second too long.
"Ohhhh," Zoe leans in. "Don't tell me—did you finally break up with Mister Control Freak?"
I nod, slowly. "It's official. I dumped him."
A beat of silence, then Amina throws her hands up. "YES! Welcome back to the light, girl!"
"We missed you on this side!" Maggy laughs, giving me a dramatic hug.
"You sure about it?" Zoe asks, her tone softening for a moment.
"Absolutely. I got tired of him acting like I belonged to him instead of, you know, me."
They all raise their mugs in unison.
"To freedom!" Maggy says.
"To questionable decisions and hot new guys!" Zoe adds.
"To bad choices and good stories," Amina winks.
We clink. I laugh. I feel... lighter.
"So," Maggy leans in again, conspiratorial. "Back to the real discussion. Mike. That man is sculpted."
"Oh, please," Zoe scoffs. "Sam is the one. He's got that 'brooding hero with a tragic past' vibe. I'd climb that like a mountain."
Amina snorts. "Both of you are blind. Tony is endgame material. Charming, smart, and those arms? Come on."
They all turn to me.
"And you?" Zoe asks, eyes gleaming. "Who's got Emmy's heart?"
I choke on my drink. "What? Me? I—uh…"
"Yes, you," Maggy presses, clearly delighted.
"I don't know," I mumble.
"Oh, come on," Amina groans. "You have eyes. Pick one."
I glance toward the tents. One of the guys—Sam?—laughs at something near the mess table. Another one—Mike—catches me looking and winks.
"I guess…" I smirk. "We'll see."
"Classic Emmy," Zoe says, rolling her eyes. "Our mysterious damsel in denial."
"Oh, shut up," I laugh, tossing a marshmallow at her.
"Hahaha! Open your eyes, Emmy," Zoe says dramatically, waving her hands like she's casting a love spell. "And open that heart too. Falling in love is the best kind of chaos."
"That's true," Amina adds, grinning. "You should at least give Zack a chance. Let him prove he's not just another pretty face with decent hair."
I raise a brow. "I can't exactly schedule my heart like a meeting. Love doesn't follow instructions. I'll wait for it to beat for someone… naturally."
Maggy groans. "Wow, how poetic. Someone get her a journal and a rainy window."
I snort. "Okay, okay. Let's turn the spotlight—why don't you all try getting to know the guys?"
Zoe immediately crosses her arms. "Pfft. Please. Like they'd ever notice us."
"Yeah," Amina sighs. "Their type is more like tall, airbrushed, swimsuit models who glow even when they sweat."
"She's not wrong," Maggy shrugs. "I mean, I tripped in front of Mike and he didn't even blink. I'm practically invisible."
I smirk. "Then change the game, ladies. Who says you can't adjust their standards?"
"Ooooh, I like that," Zoe perks up. "We're not chasing them—we're rewriting their taste in women."
"We've got time," Amina says. "This project's going to be our whole summer."
"Exactly," I say, holding up my mug like a toast. "Here's to all the strong, hilarious, stunning women who don't fit into some ridiculous 'doll' checklist. You've got the looks and the vibe. And when the right guy sees it? Game over."
They all stare at me, stunned.
"Is this… is this a TED Talk?" Zoe says, pretending to dab tears with her sleeve. "I'm emotional."
"I'm touched," Maggy says, holding her chest dramatically. "I feel seen."
Amina snickers. "That was honestly inspiring. I feel like I could flirt with a tree right now and it would flirt back."
"That's our Emmy," Zoe says, nudging me. "And one day, you'll fall stupidly in love, too. Probably with someone just as stubborn as you."
I smile. "Maybe. But until then, let's survive this jungle together."
The fire had burned low, glowing embers casting flickering shadows across our circle. The laughter had faded into soft giggles and sleepy sighs. Most of the camp had already settled in for the night, but we lingered—reluctant to let go of the warm bubble we'd created.
Maggy stretched with a yawn. "Okay, I'm officially toasted marshmallow energy. I need my sleeping bag before I start drooling."
"Same," Zoe murmured, already half-curled in her chair like a cat.
Amina stood, brushing off her shorts. "Let's not talk about boys in our dreams, okay? I don't want to wake up drooling and crying."
"Can't make any promises," Maggy replied, disappearing toward the tents.
I stayed behind for a moment, poking at the fire with a stick, letting the warmth seep into my fingers. Just me, the stars, and the comforting crackle of burning wood.
And then, a voice behind me. Low. Slightly amused.
"You give great pep talks."
I turned—and there he was. Zack. Holding two mugs of something that smelled suspiciously like the camp's version of hot chocolate.
"Oh… hey," I said, trying to sound casual, despite the fact that my brain had just gone blank. "Were you eavesdropping?"
"Let's call it… passive listening," he grinned, handing me a mug. "You were hard to miss. That whole 'guys only fall for long-legged models' speech? Very dramatic. Almost offended."
I took the mug, smirking. "Well, if the boot fits, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Mysteriously Handsome."
He laughed, sitting down on the log beside me. "You really don't think we notice girls like you?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Girls like me?"
"You know—ones who are smart, funny, fiercely loyal to their friends… and who roast marshmallows like they're conducting a science experiment."
I blinked. "That's… oddly specific."
He smiled into his mug. "Just an observation."
A silence settled between us, not awkward, but soft—like the air itself was leaning in, curious about where this was going.
"You know," he said, after a beat, "you don't have to wait for your heart to magically pick someone. Sometimes it's just about letting someone in."
I looked at him. Really looked. And for the first time, I noticed the little things—how his smile tilted slightly to the left, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he teased, the warmth in his voice when he wasn't trying to sound cool.
I took a sip of hot chocolate to buy time. "I'll consider it."
"Good," he said softly. "I'll be around."
And just like that, he stood, gave me one last smile, and walked back to his tent.
I stared into the fire for a long time after that, not sure if my heart had done anything… but I was pretty sure it had fluttered.
Just a little.
The fire had burned low, glowing embers casting flickering shadows across our circle. The laughter had faded into soft giggles and sleepy sighs. Most of the camp had already settled in for the night, but we lingered—reluctant to let go of the warm bubble we'd created.
Maggy stretched with a yawn. "Okay, I'm officially toasted marshmallow energy. I need my sleeping bag before I start drooling."
"Same," Zoe murmured, already half-curled in her chair like a cat.
Amina stood, brushing off her shorts. "Let's not talk about boys in our dreams, okay? I don't want to wake up drooling and crying."
"Can't make any promises," Maggy replied, disappearing toward the tents.
I stayed behind for a moment, poking at the fire with a stick, letting the warmth seep into my fingers. Just me, the stars, and the comforting crackle of burning wood.
And then, a voice behind me. Low. Slightly amused.
"You give great pep talks."
I turned—and there he was. Zack. Holding two mugs of something that smelled suspiciously like the camp's version of hot chocolate.
"Oh… hey," I said, trying to sound casual, despite the fact that my brain had just gone blank. "Were you eavesdropping?"
"Let's call it… passive listening," he grinned, handing me a mug. "You were hard to miss. That whole 'guys only fall for long-legged models' speech? Very dramatic. Almost offended."
I took the mug, smirking. "Well, if the boot fits, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Mysteriously Handsome."
He laughed, sitting down on the log beside me. "You really don't think we notice girls like you?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Girls like me?"
"You know—ones who are smart, funny, fiercely loyal to their friends… and who roast marshmallows like they're conducting a science experiment."
I blinked. "That's… oddly specific."
He smiled into his mug. "Just an observation."
A silence settled between us, not awkward, but soft—like the air itself was leaning in, curious about where this was going.
"You know," he said, after a beat, "you don't have to wait for your heart to magically pick someone. Sometimes it's just about letting someone in."
I looked at him. Really looked. And for the first time, I noticed the little things—how his smile tilted slightly to the left, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he teased, the warmth in his voice when he wasn't trying to sound cool.
I took a sip of hot chocolate to buy time. "I'll consider it."
"Good," he said softly. "I'll be around."
He stood, gave me one last smile, and walked back toward his tent.
What I didn't see—what I couldn't see—was Erick, standing a little ways off in the shadows near the supply tent. He wasn't hiding. Not exactly. Just… paused.
He'd come out looking for something—maybe a blanket, maybe just air—but what he found was the sight of me and Zack sitting together, laughing, sharing hot chocolate under the stars.
His jaw clenched slightly.
He watched just long enough to catch the smile Zack gave me—the one that lingered a little too long.
Then he turned away, not saying a word, disappearing back into the darkness with a look in his eyes that hadn't been there earlier.
Not anger.
Not sadness.
Something quieter.
Something closer to jealousy.
The sun filtered gently through the canopy, casting soft light on the trail as Amina and I walked side by side. The morning air was fresh, tinged with damp earth and wildflowers. A peaceful kind of quiet settled between us—the kind that only comes after a night of laughter and letting go.
"How are you feeling?" I asked, glancing at her.
She let out a small breath. "Better. This whole adventure… it's like a reset button. It's helping me forget everything for a while. Helping me breathe again."
I nodded, smiling softly. "I'm glad. I know it's not easy—breaking away from a long relationship."
"It's not," she said, her voice lower now. "But honestly? I think I was already halfway gone before we even ended. I just didn't want to admit it."
She stopped walking for a moment, looking out at the trees. "I gave so much, Emmy. Too much. And in the end, it felt like I was clinging to someone who didn't even see me anymore."
I placed a hand on her arm. "When a heart gets tired of holding on… it stops. And all it wants is to be free."
"Exactly." She nodded. "That's why I'm not crying every night. I'm not begging the universe for him back. I'm done. I'm just… done."
"And you should be," I said gently. "He's not the only man in the world. You deserve someone who doesn't make you question your worth every five minutes."
She smiled, a little sad but stronger now. "I just hope there's someone out there who'll accept me—flaws, scars, baggage and all."
"There is," I said, squeezing her arm. "And when the right one comes along, you won't have to fight so hard to be seen."
She sighed, but this time it was lighter. "Thanks, Em."
Before I could answer, a voice called through the trees.
"Emmy!"
We both turned.
Zack was jogging toward us, his smile wide, a spark of excitement lighting up his face. His hair was a mess, his shirt half-tucked, and he looked like he'd either just discovered treasure or committed mischief. Or both.
"What is it, Zack?" I asked, amused.
"There's this spot—I just found it while I was scouting near the edge of the trail. It's small, but… you have to see it. I know you'll love it."
I crossed my arms with a smirk. "You better not be dragging me into a mosquito-infested swamp again."
He held up his hands. "Promise. No swamp. No bugs. No leeches."
I turned to Amina. "Wanna come?"
She shook her head with a knowing smile. "Nah, I think this is a you and him thing."
Zack extended his hand toward me, eyes shining. "Come on. Trust me."
I laughed, slipping my hand into his. "If this is disappointing, you owe me chocolate. Like, the good kind."
"Deal," he grinned, and pulled me gently forward.
We walked a short distance, hand in hand, until we reached a hidden clearing nestled between thick vines and trees. There was a small pond, its surface perfectly still, reflecting the sky above like glass. Dragonflies hovered lazily over the water. Wild orchids bloomed at the edges. A ray of sunlight beamed straight through the trees, casting golden light over the whole scene.
"Whoa…" I whispered.
Zack looked at me instead of the view. "Beautiful, right?"
I turned to him, eyes wide. "It's perfect."
"I knew you'd like it." He smiled—soft, unguarded. "Kind of like you. Quietly stunning once you take a second to see."
My heart did a small somersault.
"Zack…" I started, but the words trailed off, lost in the moment.
He didn't say anything—just kept looking at me like I was the view worth discovering.
And for once, I let myself be still. Let myself be seen.
I stood in the clearing, completely awestruck.
The pond shimmered under the golden sunlight, and the wild roses surrounding it looked like something out of a fairytale—vibrant pinks, soft yellows, deep reds. A natural bouquet of color, blooming in a secret world.
"It's like a hidden garden," I whispered. "A garden of wild roses…"
I pulled out my camera, already snapping pictures from different angles. I wanted to capture every petal, every reflection, every bit of magic.
"It's beautiful," I said, turning to Zack with a smile. "I really like it."
He grinned, then suddenly pulled something from behind his back—a small, handpicked bouquet of wild roses. "It's for you."
My breath caught. "You picked these?"
"For you," he said again, quieter this time.
I froze for half a second, heart fluttering in a way I didn't know how to process. So naturally—I did the only thing I knew how to do.
I ran.
Well—not exactly ran, more like quickly walked away while pretending I didn't just panic. I found Amina sitting on a rock, sketching in her notebook.
"Hey!" I said a little too brightly. "Look at this place! Isn't it so pretty?"
She looked up slowly, raised an eyebrow, and closed her notebook with a snap.
"What was that?" she asked.
"What?" I blinked innocently.
"Don't play dumb. Zack just gave you a bouquet and you bolted like the bouquet was made of bees."
I sighed, flopping beside her. "It's not like that."
"Emmy, come on. He likes you. Anyone with half a brain and one eye can see it."
I shrugged. "I don't know…"
She narrowed her eyes. "No. Don't give me that. He's been showing you how he feels for days. The way he looks at you? The way he finds excuses to talk to you, bring you stuff, take you places? That boy is into you."
"I just…" I stared down at the bouquet in my hands. "I feel awkward. Like… every time he does something sweet, I don't know what to do with it. I freeze."
"Because you're not used to it," Amina said gently. "That's okay. But don't shut it down just because it's unfamiliar."
"I don't know if I feel that way about him," I admitted. "He's sweet, and kind, and yes—okay—very good-looking, but… I don't feel that spark yet."
"Maybe it doesn't have to be a spark," she said. "Maybe it starts with warmth. And grows. Sometimes love creeps in quietly."
I looked at her. "You sound like a therapist."
She grinned. "I've had practice."
I sighed. "I'm not running away from him."
"You literally ran away just now."
"I walked away politely!"
She laughed. "Sure, sure. Just… next time? Don't run. Let him show you how he feels. Let yourself feel, too."
I bit my lip, looking back toward the clearing where Zack was still standing, hands in his pockets, probably wondering what the heck just happened.
"Okay," I said softly. "Just… give me time."
Amina nodded, smiling. "Take all the time you need. But don't close the door before you even knock."
This place feels like paradise. The jungle is alive with warmth and quiet wonder, the air filled with birdsong and distant rustles in the trees. Before me, a family of gorillas moves gently through the clearing. The little ones are playing—tumbling through the grass and swinging from low branches with clumsy joy. The mothers stay close, guiding them, while the silverbacks rest under the shade, peaceful and still.
I can't look away. It's like watching the pages of a story come alive.
"Don't make any sudden moves," Milo warns as he passes behind me, his camera slung over his shoulder. "Stay back. If they feel threatened, it won't end well."
I nod silently, already lost in the moment. Around me, the rest of the team is busy capturing footage, gathering sound, noting behavior. Today's footage will be used for the opening of the show. We need it to be perfect.
"Erick," Milo calls out, "Stick with Emmy."
Erick—Bipo—looks at me, clearly unenthused. Milo nods in my direction. "Guide him," he adds. I don't reply with words, just a small nod as I shift my focus back to the gorillas.
"Bipo," I say, calling him over. He glares a little, not saying a word. Typical. "This way."
He follows—at least physically. His mind, as usual, seems somewhere else.
I kneel again near a fallen log and begin to take notes, scribbling fast but neat, my brain racing to capture every detail. Infant gorillas can cling to their mothers with an incredible grip—both hands and feet curled around their mother's body like they were born knowing how to hold on to love. The mothers help them at first, gently shifting them to the safest spot against their chest or back.
The young ones are playful—tugging each other, making high-pitched sounds that echo across the clearing. One of them climbs a tree and leaps off into a pile of leaves, like it's a game. It's like watching children with no worries in the world.
It makes me smile.
By the time I finish my notes, I glance beside me—and realize Erick's gone.
Seriously?
I scan the area and finally spot him sitting under a wide tree, leaned back like he's hiding from both the sun and responsibility. And, unsurprisingly, he's asleep.
I walk over quietly and sit beside him. The dappled sunlight plays across his face. He looks so… peaceful like this. Not grumpy. Not annoyed. Just tired. Human.
I gently poke his shoulder. "Hey," I whisper, but he doesn't respond. Instead, he shifts—and before I can react, he lays his head on my lap.
I freeze for a second, unsure what to do. Then, slowly, I relax. My fingers twitch like they want to move, to brush his hair back, but I stop myself.
"You must be really tired," I murmur. "Guess even you have your limits, Bipo."
He doesn't answer, of course. Just sleeps.
I go back to my notes, reading through them again and again—editing, checking details, trying not to focus too much on the fact that a guy is literally using me as a pillow.
After a while, I put my notebook down and take out my camera. I scroll through the photos—flowers, animals, landscapes. A few selfies. Nothing special.
Then, before I can stop myself, I lift the camera.
And take a photo.
Of him.
Sleeping.
One click.
Two.
He doesn't move.
Three.
I lean in a little.
Four.
He shifts slightly, lips parting as he sighs in his sleep.
Five.
I pause. Then lower the camera.
What am I even doing?
I don't know why I took them. I just… did. Like my hands moved before my thoughts could stop them. Like a part of me wanted to remember him like this.
Soft. Unfiltered. Real.
And for a fleeting moment—I wonder what it would feel like if he was awake and looking up at me.
If that glare wasn't annoyance… but something else entirely
He slept so peacefully, his features softer than I'd ever seen them. I glanced down at the photo on my camera screen and couldn't help but smile.
He's… cute.
The thought flickered through my mind, uninvited. And for some reason, it made my chest feel strangely warm. I shook the feeling away.
It's just a picture. Nothing more.
Then, as if sensing the attention, he stirred. His lashes fluttered, and slowly, he opened his eyes.
"Did I sleep too long?" he asked, his voice still gravelly from rest.
"Not long enough," I replied, a teasing smile playing on my lips. "You looked so peaceful. How do you feel?"
He stretched slightly, rubbing his neck. "Different," he admitted. "Good. Honestly, that's the best sleep I've had in… a long time."
"You must've been really tired."
"Yeah," he murmured, then added, almost under his breath, "Tired of my life."
I didn't ask. It felt too personal, too raw—and maybe he wasn't ready to share it. Not with me. Not yet.
Instead, I reached into my bag and pulled out two sandwiches I had packed earlier. I handed one to him.
"Here. Let's eat."
He blinked at it. "Thanks," he said, taking it. After a few bites, his eyes lit up. "Wait… this is good. Where did you buy this?"
"I didn't. I made it."
He looked at me, genuinely surprised. "Seriously? It's really good."
I laughed. "Glad you like it."
He finished the sandwich quickly, and I could tell he was still hungry. I cut mine in half and offered him one piece.
"Want more?" I asked.
"Are you sure?"
"Yup. Go ahead."
He accepted it without hesitation. "Thank you," he said again, softer this time.
After we finished, I took out my water bottle and unscrewed the cap. "I just have one bottle," I told him, showing it.
He shrugged. "It's okay."
I took a sip and was about to tuck it back into my bag when he reached for it—and drank.
My eyes widened, surprised. I hadn't expected him to actually drink after me. But he did. Casually. Like it was no big deal.
He handed it back to me. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," I said, a little breathless. The moment felt oddly… intimate.
He must've sensed it too, because his expression shifted—just for a second—like he was thinking the same thing.
"Let's go," he said, standing up. Then he held out his hand.
I hesitated for a beat before taking it.
His grip was warm and steady as he helped me up, and for a moment, our eyes met.
There was something there. Something unspoken.
And I didn't look away.
We walked back through the dense jungle trail, side by side. Erick didn't say much, but his presence beside me felt… lighter than usual. Not cold. Not grumpy. Just calm.
At one point, he brushed a low-hanging vine away so I could pass without ducking.
"Thanks," I murmured.
He gave a quiet nod, his fingers grazing mine for the briefest moment. I wasn't sure if it was on purpose.
But I felt it.
And the strange flutter in my chest returned.
We stepped out into a clearing where the rest of the team was gathered, wrapping up equipment and discussing the next site. I spotted Zack near the base of a large tree, holding his camera and scanning the horizon—until his eyes landed on us.
More specifically… on me. Then on our hands. Still close. Maybe too close.
His gaze narrowed slightly.
"Emmy," he called out, walking over. "I've been looking for you. We're gonna need a few voiceovers for the intro clips. Milo wants natural reactions to the gorilla shots."
"Oh—okay, sure," I said, stepping forward. "I'll be there in a minute."
Zack's eyes flicked to Erick. "You guys took your time," he said, a smile tugging at his lips—but it didn't reach his eyes.
Erick just shrugged, cool as ever. "She needed guidance. Boss's orders."
"Right," Zack said, with that same polite smile that didn't quite hide the edge. "And here I thought you hated guiding anyone."
"Turns out I don't mind some company," Erick replied, his tone light but firm.
Zack's jaw flexed, just slightly. He looked at me then—really looked—and I felt his gaze soften.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah," I said, nodding. "Just... tired."
Zack nodded, but the way he glanced at Erick again said everything. Something had shifted. He saw it.
"I'll wait for you by the equipment van," Zack said, softer now. "Don't take too long."
As he walked away, I could feel the tension lingering in the space between me and Erick.
"Friend of yours?" Erick asked casually, watching Zack go.
I gave a small shrug. "Yeah. Maybe. I don't know."
Erick smirked. "He's got it bad."
"What?"
"You didn't notice?" he said, a teasing glint in his eyes. "That guy's in love with you."
I felt my cheeks heat up. "He's just… sweet."
"Yeah," Erick said, stepping past me with a small smile. "Too sweet."
And just like that, he walked off—leaving my heart confused, my thoughts a mess, and my feet stuck right where they were.
Caught in the middle of something I didn't see coming.
The Next Morning
Sunlight filtered gently through the trees, dappling the ground with gold. But the warmth did nothing to chase away the chill clinging to my skin from the night before.
I hadn't slept well.
Neither had Emmy.
Zack was back in camp like nothing had happened—chatting with Milo, laughing with the others, like he hadn't slipped away in the dark and vanished into a glowing hole in the earth.
"Are we going to talk about it?" Emmy asked, stirring her coffee but not drinking it.
"I was hoping it was just a dream," I muttered.
"It wasn't."
I met her eyes. They were serious. Determined.
"Then we go back," I said. "We have to see it in daylight."
"What if it's gone?"
"Then we know it's real."
We told Amina and Erick we were going to gather more footage of the ruins for reference—nothing suspicious. Milo was too busy setting up drone shots to care. Zack didn't even glance at us.
He knew we were going back.
The path was harder to find in the morning. The jungle looked different without the eerie blue hue of moonlight. But Emmy remembered the way, every twist and step. Her memory was sharper than I gave her credit for.
Eventually, we reached the mossy boulder again.
But something was different.
It wasn't just moss-covered—it looked older. As if it hadn't been touched in years. No glowing cracks. No trace of a split in the earth.
"What the hell…" Emmy whispered.
I stepped forward, brushing my hand across the stone. Nothing.
"Maybe it only opens at night," she said.
"Or only for him."
She looked around. "Do you feel that?"
The jungle around us was silent again. Not the peaceful kind. The watched kind.
I nodded. "Yeah. We're not alone."
Suddenly, a gust of warm wind swept past us—too warm, too targeted. The vines overhead rustled in a slow, deliberate wave. Like a warning.
Emmy stepped back. "We need to tell the others. Something is hidden here. And Zack knows what it is."
I agreed, but one look at the boulder told me—whatever had opened last night wasn't gone.
It was waiting.
Later That Day
Back at camp, everything was too normal.
Birds chirped. People laughed. Milo was arguing with someone about camera angles. Zack sat by the fire, sketching something in a notebook, humming to himself like he didn't just open a doorway to a glowing underworld.
Emmy leaned close to me. "Look at him."
I did. Zack's pencil was moving fast, almost frantic. I couldn't see what he was drawing, but his fingers were smudged with charcoal and dirt. His lips moved in silent whispers. Like he was repeating something.
Not a tune.
A language.
The same one from last night.
"He's different," Emmy whispered.
"I know."
We didn't say anything else. Just watched him… until he suddenly stopped drawing and looked straight at us.
His eyes.
They weren't the same.
Still blue—but too bright. Like glass reflecting firelight. He smiled… but it was empty again. Like the smile he gave me last night before disappearing into the jungle.
I felt a chill crawl up my spine.
Later That Afternoon
It started small.
Amina misplaced her journal—then found it in a place she swore she never put it.
Erick lost his compass. Claimed it was stolen. Found it again, buried in dirt under his tent.
Milo said the drones kept flying off-course—drawn to the same spot in the forest no matter where they launched from.
And the animals?
Gone. Not a single sound from the nearby trees. No monkeys. No birds.
Only the constant buzz of insects. Louder. Closer.
Like they were listening.
That Night
Emmy tossed in her sleeping bag, restless.
I sat by the fire, pretending to write notes, but my eyes kept drifting toward Zack's tent. The flap was closed. No movement.
And yet…
Whispers.
Too soft to catch. Like wind and breath tangled together.
I turned—and froze.
There, on the far edge of the clearing, near the shadows of the tree line… was a figure.
Not moving. Just watching.
Not Zack.
Too tall. Too still. Its eyes shimmered gold like coals in the dark.
I blinked—and it was gone.
The air felt heavier. Like something ancient had stirred.
I went to wake Emmy.
She was already sitting up, wide-eyed.
"You saw it too?" she whispered.
I nodded.
Something is coming.
And Zack?He's not who he used to be.
That Night
The jungle was quieter than ever. Like the world was holding its breath.
Inside her tent, Emmy finally drifted off to sleep. But instead of rest… she fell.
The Dream
She stood in the middle of the ruins.
Alone.
The jungle was gone—replaced by stone. Endless black pillars surrounded her, carved with symbols she didn't understand, but somehow… recognized.
A voice echoed all around her.Whispering. Calling her name.
"Emmy…"
She turned.
Nothing.
But the voice came again.
"Emmy… you came back to us."
A faint glow pulsed beneath her feet. The stone cracked open in lines of golden fire, spreading like veins. At the center, something rose.
A figure, cloaked in vines and shadows, its face hidden by a mask shaped like an animal skull. It raised one hand—and she couldn't move.
"Your blood remembers," it whispered. "You were marked long ago."
She tried to scream, but her voice was gone.
The mask stared at her—and then melted, revealing Zack's face underneath.
But it wasn't him.His eyes burned gold.His smile was sharp and wrong.
"Wake up, Emmy," he said, voice echoing like thunder."Before it's too late."
The ground cracked open beneath her—and she fell.
Back in the Tent
"Emmy!"
A hand shook her shoulder—firm, panicked.
"Emmy, wake up!"
She gasped, bolting upright, heart pounding in her chest like a war drum. Sweat clung to her neck. Her breathing was ragged.
Erick was crouched beside her, his face lit by the soft glow of a flashlight.
"You were crying out in your sleep," he said quietly. "I thought something was attacking you."
She looked around—back in the tent. Safe. The jungle still humming outside.
Only a dream.But it didn't feel like one.
"Thanks," she whispered, wiping her face.
Erick didn't say anything for a second. Then: "You okay?"
She nodded slowly. "I… I don't know."
He stayed there a moment longer, watching her, before finally speaking.
"You want me to stay until you fall back asleep?"
She looked at him, surprised.
His expression was calm. But his eyes… they were full of worry.
"…Yeah," she said softly. "If you don't mind."
He nodded, sat near the tent wall, arms crossed over his knees.
"I've got you," he said. "No one's getting to you tonight."
Emmy closed her eyes again.
But sleep didn't come easy.
Because somewhere… deep in the ruins…Something had called her.
And it wasn't finished.
Later That Night
The air had cooled, and the jungle hummed with its midnight chorus. Inside the tent, Emmy finally drifted off again—uneasy, but quiet.
Erick watched her for a while, then stood.
He glanced at her sleeping face, then at the empty bottle beside her.
She needs water, he thought.
He stepped outside quietly, heading toward the supply crates near the fire. Just a few minutes.
He didn't notice her stir.
Didn't see her sit up, eyes wide open but blank.
Didn't see her unzip the tent and step into the moonlight like she was being called.
Deep in the Jungle
Zack was already awake.
Standing at the edge of camp, half in shadow, like he'd been waiting.
He saw her.
Emmy, walking barefoot, silent. Like she wasn't in control of her own body. Her steps were slow but sure—like someone else was guiding her.
Zack smiled.
Not warmly.
But knowingly.
He followed.
No flashlight. No sound.
Just him and her, moving deeper and deeper into the jungle. Past the trees. Past the last echo of safety.
Toward the ruins.
Again.
Meanwhile, Back at Camp
Erick returned to the tent with the water.
"Here," he whispered, lifting the flap gently. "Got you some—"
He froze.
She was gone.
His heart jumped. "Emmy?"
Nothing.
He looked around. The fire was low, casting flickering shadows across the clearing.
Panic surged. He asked two others on watch, but no one had seen her leave.
Without another word, he grabbed a flashlight and ran into the trees.
Back at the Ruins
The boulder had already moved.
This time, Emmy didn't hesitate.
Still sleepwalking, she stepped through the glowing entrance—barefoot, silent, entranced.
Zack followed closely behind, his expression unreadable.
Inside the chamber, the light pulsed stronger. The walls were covered in ancient symbols—glowing faintly now, like they sensed her presence.
Zack moved beside her.
"Do you feel it?" he whispered, voice low and soft. "It's calling to you."
She didn't answer. Her eyes stared blankly ahead.
He looked at her like she was something sacred. Not in a romantic way.
In a chosen one kind of way.
"There's a reason you dream of this place," he said. "You're not just part of this story… you are the story."
He reached out, slowly brushing his fingers against her wrist—where the same glowing symbol from the wall was now faintly burning beneath her skin.
Zack's eyes glinted.
"Soon, they'll all understand. You're not just a girl on a research trip…"
He leaned close, whispering something in that strange, ancient tongue.
The chamber answered with a low hum, like a distant drumbeat.
The vines along the walls began to shift.
Emmy's eyes fluttered—something was changing.
Erick in the Jungle
"Emmy!" he called again, louder now. "Where are you?!"
He stumbled through the undergrowth, following broken twigs and faint footprints. Then he saw it—
The boulder.
Moving.
Light flickering beneath it.
Erick ran.
Inside the Ruins Chamber
The air shimmered with an unnatural glow. The symbols on the walls pulsed, almost breathing. Emmy stood at the center, her eyes half-closed, her hands slightly raised like she was in a trance. A soft whisper—ancient and melodic—escaped her lips.
Zack stood beside her, watching with a strange intensity.
The mark on her wrist glowed brighter.
Then—
"Emmy!"
A beam of flashlight swept across the chamber entrance as Erick burst in, breathless, his shirt clinging to his skin with sweat. His eyes locked on her instantly.
She didn't move.
"Zack?! What the hell is going on?!"
Zack turned, his face a mask of perfect fear.
"I—I don't know, man! She was sleepwalking. I saw her leave camp and followed her. She just… walked in here like she knew where she was going."
Erick rushed to her side. "Emmy!" He gently took her shoulders. "Hey, look at me—wake up!"
But her gaze was far away, locked on something none of them could see.
"She started chanting something," Zack said, stepping forward, eyes wide. "In a language I've never heard. And that mark—" He pointed to her glowing wrist. "It just appeared."
"You think this is normal?" Erick snapped. "Why didn't you wake the others?!"
"I didn't want to scare anyone," Zack said, voice steady but laced with fake concern. "I thought maybe I could bring her back before anyone noticed."
Erick gave him a long, sharp look.
The chamber pulsed again—low, humming.
Emmy suddenly gasped and stumbled forward.
Both boys rushed to catch her, but she fell into Erick's arms.
Her body trembled slightly as her eyes fluttered open.
"…Erick?" she whispered, dazed.
"I'm here. You're okay. I've got you," he said, holding her close.
Zack stepped back, jaw clenched, hiding the way his fingers curled into fists.
"This place is dangerous," Erick said, eyes still on Zack. "We need to get her out of here."
Zack nodded slowly, expression unreadable. "Yeah. You're right."
But as Erick lifted Emmy and led her out of the ruins, Zack stayed behind for just a moment longer. His gaze shifted to the pulsing wall, to the symbols glowing with Emmy's mark.
Then, under his breath, he whispered in that strange, ancient tongue.
And the wall responded—with a flicker of gold.
Back at Camp – Late Night
Emmy had been quiet ever since they brought her back from the ruins. Pale. Distant. Her wrist still bore a faint glow under the skin, like something ancient had touched her and hadn't let go.
She lay in her sleeping bag, eyes closed but uneasy—twitching, murmuring in her sleep.
Zack sat beside her, calm and attentive, pretending to be the concerned companion.
Erick paced just outside the tent, restless.
"You sure you've got this?" Erick asked, stepping in. "I can stay."
Zack looked up, flashing that same fake-warm smile.
"She's calm now," he said. "You haven't slept. Go rest. If anything happens, I'll wake you immediately."
Erick hesitated.
Zack placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'll take care of her."
Reluctantly, Erick nodded. "Okay… but call me the second she moves."
"Of course."
Erick left.
The moment his footsteps faded, Zack turned his eyes back to Emmy. The mask fell.
He leaned in closer, watching the way her fingers twitched. Her lips moved, whispering fragments of the same ancient language she'd spoken in the ruins.
Then her hand reached out unconsciously… dragging her fingers across the tent's inner wall.
Zack watched.
She was drawing.
Slow, shaky symbols. The same ones from the ruin walls.
One by one.
Intricate. Perfect. Symbols no modern person should know.
Zack's breath caught, but not from fear.
From satisfaction.
"It's starting," he whispered, almost reverently. "You're remembering…"
He took out a small, leather-bound journal from his bag and flipped it open to a page filled with sketched symbols.
He began copying hers next to his.
"They chose you," he said softly, his voice almost a caress. "The forest. The chamber. All of it—it was always meant to be you."
Emmy's voice, still deep in sleep, whispered something else.
Zack leaned closer.
"…San'mirakai…"
His eyes widened.
He whispered it back.
And the candle by her bed flickered.
A wind stirred—inside the tent.
He didn't flinch.
He smiled.
Early Morning – The Jungle Camp
A soft breeze fluttered through the trees as the first light of dawn pushed its way through the jungle canopy. Birds chirped lazily. The camp was still.
Erick stirred from a restless sleep in his tent, an uneasy feeling settling deep in his gut.
Something was off.
He threw on his jacket and stepped outside, his eyes immediately drifting to Emmy's tent.
He moved quickly.
Inside the Tent
Emmy lay curled in her sleeping bag, her expression peaceful for the first time in days. And beside her, Zack.
Sleeping.
Right next to her.
Erick's face hardened. "What the hell…?"
Zack blinked awake slowly, as if perfectly timed. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, then looked over at Emmy before turning to Erick.
"Hey… she had a rough night," he said, voice quiet, apologetic. "She started shivering in her sleep. Mumbling things again. I thought it was safer to stay close. I didn't touch her, I swear."
Erick glanced at Emmy, then around the tent—and stopped cold.
The wall was clean.
The symbols Emmy had drawn in her sleep were gone. Not a trace. No smudges. No lines. Just smooth tent fabric.
"But—" Erick frowned, stepping closer. "She was… drawing. I saw her. Her fingers…"
Zack's brows furrowed with perfect confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"There were symbols here. Ancient-looking symbols. You were writing them down."
Zack looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Dude, I think you're just tired. I didn't write anything down. She was sleeping all night, didn't move an inch. Maybe you dreamed it?"
Erick opened his mouth to argue—but stopped. The tent was spotless. Emmy stirred, mumbling something soft in her sleep, drawing both of their eyes.
Erick stepped back, uneasy.
Zack's expression softened, just enough. "Look, I get it. You're worried. I am too. Something's happening to her. But jumping to conclusions won't help."
"…Yeah," Erick muttered, but his gut twisted.
Zack stretched, yawning as he stood. "Let's get some coffee, yeah?"
He stepped out first, leaving Erick behind—still staring at the blank tent wall.
His instincts screamed at him.
Something had happened.
And Zack was lying.
Later That Morning – Emmy's Tent
Sunlight trickled in through the canvas walls. The birdsong was distant, muffled somehow—as if the jungle were holding its breath.
Emmy opened her eyes.
For a moment, she just stared at the ceiling. Then slowly, her fingers curled into the sleeping bag.
She remembered. Everything.
The symbols.
The voice in her dream.
Her body moving on its own.
The glowing walls.
Zack whispering to the ruins. Writing in his journal. Smiling in the dark.
She remembered waking halfway through the night, disoriented, her hand mid-symbol, and Zack watching her like she wasn't human.
He had pretended to panic when Erick arrived.
He'd lied. So easily.
She sat up quietly and looked around.
The walls were clean—he had erased the symbols.
Her palm still tingled faintly. She turned it over slowly, and there it was: a barely-visible remnant. A thin, glowing line, almost like it was under the skin.
She quickly pulled the blanket over it.
Zack stepped in.
"You're awake," he said, tone soft, concerned, the perfect caring friend. "How are you feeling?"
She looked up at him, and for a heartbeat, she almost said something. She almost let her voice rise, almost asked, "Why are you lying?"
But she didn't.
Instead, she smiled faintly. "A little better. Tired."
Zack crouched next to her. "You were sleepwalking again. I stayed with you. Hope that's okay."
Her heart pounded in her chest, but she kept her tone steady. "Thank you… for watching over me."
He smiled. Warm. Reassuring. Deceptive.
"I've got your back," he said.
She looked down at her hands. "I know."
But inside her mind, pieces were beginning to align—memories, symbols, whispers.
And Zack.
He was connected to this. Somehow. And he had an agenda.
But Emmy wasn't afraid anymore.
She was curious.
She was changing.
So she said nothing.
Because she wanted to see what he'd do next.
Later That Afternoon – Behind the Research Tent
The others were prepping gear, reviewing notes, laughing over coffee—but Emmy had gathered a small group away from camp, in a hidden patch behind the research tent, shielded by low-hanging branches and crates of equipment.
Her palm still glowed faintly beneath her glove.
Around her stood Mr. Sympson, clipboard in hand but eyes wide with concern, and her three closest friends—Maggy, Amina, and Zoe—faces pulled tight with confusion and growing unease.
Emmy held out her notebook, flipping to the page she'd started just hours ago.
Dozens of symbols—drawn from memory—lined the paper. Sharp curves. Ancient lines. All of them glowing slightly in the jungle light, like the ink itself remembered something.
She looked at them seriously.
"I remember everything," she said softly. "The ruins. The entrance. What I said… what Zack said."
The others went still.
Maggy was the first to speak. "Zack? What do you mean?"
"He led me there. Not just by accident. He knew about the hidden chamber. He whispered to the wall in a language that triggered something. I think… I think I've been marked."
Mr. Sympson stepped forward, his voice low. "These symbols… they're similar to the ones carved into the ancient stones around the ruins. But I've never seen someone just… write them. Not without research."
"I didn't study them," Emmy said. "They come to me in dreams. I draw them while I'm asleep."
Amina's face paled. "You mean—this is inside you now?"
Emmy nodded. "And I don't know why. But Zack… he's pretending to help. He erased the symbols after I drew them. He lied to Erick. He's hiding something."
Zoe leaned in closer. "So what do we do now?"
"We don't tell him anything," Emmy said firmly. "Not yet. But we keep watching. And I keep writing. Something's waking up in that ruin, and I need to know why it chose me."
A soft crunch of leaves nearby.
Erick.
He wasn't close enough to hear the full conversation, but he saw them—Emmy with her notebook out, her face serious, the others crowding close. It wasn't casual.
His eyes narrowed, and he stepped back before anyone could notice him.
What are you hiding, Emmy? he thought.
Back in the clearing, Emmy closed the notebook and looked up at Mr. Sympson.
"I need your help," she said. "Because I think something ancient is calling to me. And if Zack has anything to do with it… we're running out of time."
Later That Night – Campfire's Edge
The others were chatting casually, sipping coffee, laughing about some bug that had crawled into Zoe's sleeping bag—but Erick wasn't listening.
He watched Zack.
The way Zack's eyes kept flickering toward Emmy when she wasn't looking. How he pretended to be tired, yawning at just the right moment. Too perfect. Too timed.
Zack had always been calm—friendly, even. But now that Erick was paying attention, he noticed the cracks in the mask.
And Emmy… something had changed in her. The way she sat a little stiffer. Talked less. Kept her notebook close.
That meeting behind the tents earlier... it wasn't just casual girl talk.
Erick sat by the fire, expression relaxed, but his mind was racing.
Why was Zack out in the jungle that night?
What language did he whisper to that ruin wall?
And why is Emmy pretending she doesn't remember what happened?
When Zack finally stood to stretch and head toward his tent, Erick waited a moment, then quietly followed. Not too close. Just enough.
Zack didn't go to sleep.
He went to the edge of camp, pulled out a notebook of his own—leather-bound and worn—and flipped through pages filled with…
The same symbols Emmy had drawn.
Erick froze.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears.
Zack stared at the symbols like they were sacred. His lips moved, silently mouthing something in that same strange language. His eyes closed. His hand hovered over one of the pages like it was glowing.
Erick stepped back, his breath caught in his throat.
Zack suddenly looked up—eyes scanning the darkness.
For a second, Erick thought he was caught.
But Zack just shook his head, tucked the notebook away, and walked back toward the tents.
Erick stayed hidden, crouched behind a tree.
Zack wasn't just on this trip for research.
He was after something.
And now… Erick wasn't just following Emmy to protect her.
He was going to find out what Zack was really after.
No matter what.