Elie's eyelids fluttered open long before the others stirred. Warm morning light filtered through the gaps in the rotting boards, casting soft stripes across the floor. Pain still throbbed in her ankle, but the ache was muted by exhaustion and the calm hush of the cabin.
She pushed herself up onto one elbow, careful not to jostle her bandage. The others lay scattered around the room—Shin slumped on the bench, his cheek still streaked with dried blood; Evelyn curled against the wall, breathing evenly; Alix curled beneath the tattered quilt. Kent was nowhere in sight.
Gingerly, Elie swung her legs toward the floor. The wood was cold beneath her feet and she winced. She tested her ankle with a tentative shift of weight—it held. She allowed herself a small, triumphant smile.
On silent feet, she padded toward the door. Pulling it closed behind her lest she wake the others, she stepped into the dawn chill. Outside, mist clung to the low grass and birds called in the treetops. Somewhere in the distance water trickled.
She followed the sound, leaning on nearby saplings as she limped. Thirty yards away, a slender creek wound through the clearing—it was the same stream they'd crossed the night before to reach the cabin. Elie knelt at the bank, cupping her hands to drink. The cold water bit pleasantly at her throat.
A soft shuffle behind her made her turn. Kent emerged, two shirtless silhouettes against the pale sky, holding damp shirts in their arms. He blinked in surprise at seeing her awake.
"Good morning," he whispered, concern flickering in his eyes. "How's the ankle?"
"Better," Elie said, managing a proud lift of her foot. "I can stand."
He exhaled in relief. "That's good." He poured water from the creek into his palms and held it out to her. She let him wash the sleep from her face, then splashed her hands and returned it to him.
For a moment, they simply watched the sun climb higher, felt the fresh forest air brush their skin. Then Kent tilted his head. "We should bring the others water, too—maybe find something to eat."
Elie nodded. "I'll go back and get them.
Together they walked silently to the cabin. Inside, Elie spotted Alix stirring first on the quilt, eyelids blinking against the dim. Evelyn and Shin both murmured as she and Kent approached, eyelids fluttering open at the sight of friendly faces.
"Morning," Elie said softly, sliding onto the floor beside Alix. "Water?"
Alix managed a crooked smile. "Life-saver."
Evelyn pushed herself up against the wall. "You two were gone a while."
Kent set the damp shirts on the table. "We thought you might like fresh water, and I found some blackberries not far from here."
He held out a crumpled handful of berries. Elie's face lit up. Evelyn and Alix sat forward to share the fruit, while Shin—now half-awake—rummaged for a clean rag to wipe the berries.
As they ate in the soft light, the tension of the past hours melted just enough for quiet conversation. Elie caught Kent's eye over the rim of her cup and offered a small, grateful nod. Between them lingered the memory of old feelings, but now tempered by shared danger—and a hope that tomorrow they'd walk out together, stronger than before.
Shin pushed himself up from the bench, every muscle shifting under the sheen of early-morning light. He ran a hand through his hair, then squared his shoulders and drew in a steady breath.
"I've been thinking," he began, voice calm but carrying through the little cabin. As he stood, the soft fabric of his shirt stretched across his back and arms, flexing the lines of his muscles. Elie and Alix both flinched—Elie's eyes widened, Alix's mouth went slack for a heartbeat—and they exchanged startled glances before hastily looking away.
Shin cleared his throat. "We're low on supplies, low on strength, and if we stay here much longer, they'll find us. We need to move—find somewhere safer, somewhere with more resources."
He placed one hand on the table for balance. "The next marked cabin on the map's about three miles east. It's closer to the river—fresh water, fish. There might even be an old ranger station with leftover gear." He tapped the map spread beneath the pitcher. "We can restock, patch up properly, and plan our next step. Staying put isn't an option."
Evelyn shifted from where she'd been leaning against the wall. "He's right," she said, limping to her feet. "We've got daylight, which means visibility—but also risk. We move now, while the dawn's mist still covers our tracks."
Kent nodded, stepping in beside her with a reassuring grin at Elie. "I'll carry the heavier packs," he offered. "I can take on more weight—and I've got extra water skins in my bag." He glanced at Elie. "You good to keep up?"
Elie flexed her bandaged ankle, determination shining in her eyes. "I won't slow us down. I promise."
Alix tested her arm, then smiled wryly. "After last night? I'll follow you anywhere."
Shin rolled up the map. "Alright, then. One last break—ten minutes to eat and gather what we can—then we head out. Stick together, watch each other's back, and avoid open ground. Let's go."
They moved as one small, determined unit, gathering their scattered belongings, hearts set on the unknown trail ahead. The cabin door closed softly behind them, and the forest swallowed their footsteps as they stepped into the morning light—and into whatever came next.
The morning air bit sharp against their skin as the five of them set out from the cabin, the fading scent of smoke and damp wood lingering behind them. No one spoke much at first — the silence between them wasn't awkward, just heavy, as if their minds were still tangled in last night's chaos. The trail ahead was rough, uneven, and the dirt still wet from the storm that had passed through earlier.
Shin walked slightly ahead, map in one hand, the other brushing the handle of his knife at his belt. Every so often, he'd glance back, scanning the group — especially Elie, whose limp was more noticeable now, even though she did her best to hide it. Kent stuck close to her side, every step ready to steady her if she faltered.
Evelyn and Alix trailed behind, speaking in low voices when they thought the others couldn't hear.
"She's still not over him, huh?" Alix muttered, glancing toward Elie.
Evelyn sighed, tightening the straps on her pack. "Not even close. Seeing Kent after all this time? You saw her face last night — she shut down."
Alix nodded slowly, her gaze flicking from Elie to Kent, then to Shin. "And Shin? You think he notices?"
Evelyn gave a small, humorless smile. "Shin notices everything. He just pretends not to."
Up ahead, Kent's voice cut through the quiet. "Shin. Looks like a clearing coming up."
Shin raised a hand to slow them down, his steps cautious as he moved forward and peered past the brush. The clearing was wide, dotted with old, crumbling stone markers, like it had once been part of a larger settlement. At the far end, nestled against a line of crooked trees, stood a structure — the roof partially caved in, but the walls still holding strong.
"That's it," Shin confirmed, lowering the map. "The old ranger station."
Relief washed over the group, though no one let their guard drop entirely. As they made their way closer, Elie's ankle finally gave out, her body lurching sideways — Kent caught her instinctively, one arm around her waist, steadying her before she could hit the ground.
"You should've told me it got worse," he said quietly.
"I'm fine," Elie mumbled, but her voice was too soft to be convincing.
"You don't have to be," Kent replied. Without waiting for protest, he adjusted his grip and lifted her off her feet again, cradling her carefully against his chest like it was second nature.
The moment hung heavier than the air around them. Elie's gaze lingered on him, her throat tightening as old, unsuppressed memories clawed their way back — memories she had tried so hard to bury.
As Kent carried her toward the station, Shin slowed his pace, falling back beside Evelyn and Alix. His expression didn't shift much, but Evelyn caught the slight crease at his brow, the sharpness hidden behind his calm.
"This place better have what we need," Shin muttered under his breath. "We won't get another break like this."
The group reached the station, pushing the creaking door open. Dust filled the air, but the space was dry and intact enough to shelter them for a while. Kent carefully lowered Elie onto the old bench by the window, his hand brushing her arm for a second too long before pulling away.
The others dropped their bags, finally exhaling, but the unspoken tension still pressed on all of them.
"Rest up," Shin ordered quietly. "We'll search the place soon. But for now, keep your ears sharp. If this was a setup once…"
His voice trailed off, and the implication sank in. It could happen again.
And this time, they wouldn't be so lucky.
The air inside the old ranger station was cold, but it offered something the five of them hadn't felt since the explosion — safety, even if temporary. Dust hung in the light slits that bled through the broken shutters, and the silence between them stretched, fragile and uncertain.
Shin stood near the doorway, his eyes scanning the room even as his mind ran through everything: Dr. Fatal's voice, the explosion, the setup, the way they were herded like pawns onto the board without even realizing it. His jaw clenched as the weight of the situation sat heavy on his shoulders.
Kent wiped his hand across his face, a smear of dried blood still crusted on his cheek. He moved to sit on the floor beside Elie, his shoulder pressing against the wall as he let out a long breath. His own body ached, but his attention kept drifting toward her — her ankle wrapped in a strip of cloth they'd salvaged from an old curtain. She hadn't said much since the hike, still stuck somewhere between pain and the memories that his presence had stirred up.
Evelyn and Alix sat on the floor near the boarded window, their backs resting against the wall, their legs stretched out and heavy with exhaustion. Evelyn's fingers rubbed at a deep scratch along her collarbone, absentmindedly.
"She still won't say anything," Evelyn mumbled under her breath, just loud enough for Alix to hear.
Alix gave a subtle nod, her gaze flicking to Elie. "Her head's not here right now. Old feelings don't just disappear, especially not after something like this."
Shin finally turned from his post at the door, stepping toward them. His muscles were stiff, his cuts still raw from the rain and dirt of the trail, but his voice was steady when he spoke.
"We need to think beyond this." His tone was blunt, cutting into the quiet. "Dr. Fatal didn't pick us by accident. He's been ten steps ahead since the beginning — the files, the video, even leading us here. If we sit here waiting for another miracle, we'll end up in the ground."
Evelyn glanced up at him, sharp but calm. "You make it sound like we have another option."
"There's always an option," Kent added, his voice low but certain. "We just have to be willing to look for it."
The room sat silent for a moment, save for the soft rustling of Elie shifting her weight, wincing slightly at the throb in her ankle. Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke, barely more than a whisper.
"I don't think he ever intended for any of us to leave alive."
They all looked toward her, the numbness in her tone more chilling than any explosion.
Shin's gaze locked with Kent's — the silent acknowledgment between two people who understood exactly what that meant.
"We need supplies," Kent said, breaking the tension. "First aid, food, whatever's left. If we're stuck here longer than a night, we'll run out of time before we run out of strength."
Shin gave a nod. "We'll head out at first light. I want all of you to rest as much as you can tonight."
Evelyn let out a dry, bitter chuckle. "Rest. Right. Like that's possible now."
Still, no one argued. One by one, they settled down on the worn, cold floor. Shin lingered at the door, leaning against the frame as he stared out at the quiet woods, eyes heavy but mind sharper than ever.
He knew the night wouldn't stay quiet for long.
The cabin was sunk deep into the quiet of the night — the only sound the low whistle of wind squeezing through the cracked window frames. The embers in the fireplace had long since dimmed to a faint, pulsing orange, barely giving off enough warmth to hold off the creeping cold.
Kent lay on the rough floor, staring at the decaying wooden ceiling. Sleep had come and gone in restless waves, each time pulling him back to the same place: her. The things he'd said. The things he hadn't. The twisted knot of anger and regret hadn't loosened, even with the exhaustion pressing into his bones.
Finally, he sat up, rubbing his face with a groan. His body ached in protest, but his head was louder. Quietly, Kent pushed himself up and stepped over the others, careful not to wake them — or so he thought.
Evelyn stirred, her eyes blinking open, adjusting to the faint sliver of moonlight slicing through the slats in the window. She heard the soft creak of old wood beneath Kent's steps, and without overthinking it, she pushed herself upright.
"Kent?" her voice came out, low but clear, cutting through the silence.
He paused near the doorway, glancing back toward her shadowed figure. "Couldn't sleep," he muttered, voice rough around the edges.
Evelyn shifted, tucking her legs underneath her as she leaned against the wall. "Yeah. I figured."
She watched him for a moment, noting the way his shoulders sat heavy — not just from injury or exhaustion, but something else entirely.
"Want to talk about it?" she asked, keeping her voice neutral, like it was a choice, not a demand.
Kent gave a dry, humorless laugh under his breath. "Talking about it doesn't really change it." He hesitated, leaning back against the doorframe. "It just… keeps replaying, y'know? Over and over."
Evelyn tilted her head slightly. "Your ex?"
Kent didn't answer at first, just stared out into the night. Finally, he gave the smallest nod.
"Yeah."
Evelyn rested her head back against the wall, letting the quiet stretch for a moment. "I get it," she said softly. "It's weird. Even when you think you've moved past someone, it's like your mind knows exactly when to pull the memories back. Especially when everything else is already falling apart."
Kent exhaled through his nose, the smallest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, though there wasn't much humor in it. "Guess you've been there too, huh?"
"Yeah," Evelyn replied quietly. "More than once."
They sat in silence for a few long moments, the weight of both their thoughts hanging unspoken in the air.
"Do you think any of us make it out of this?" Kent asked suddenly, voice more vulnerable than before. "Or is this just another mess we were all meant to lose from the start?"
Evelyn's gaze stayed fixed on him. She didn't have an answer — not a real one — but after a beat, she offered the only thing that felt honest.
"If this was meant to be the end, we wouldn't be breathing right now." She shifted slightly. "We'll figure it out. One way or another."
Kent let the words settle, his eyes drifting from the broken windows to the sleeping shapes of the others. His gaze lingered on Elie for a second longer than the rest, before finally pulling away.
"Yeah," he muttered. "One way or another."
Neither of them said another word as the night wore on, but they didn't return to sleep either. Not yet.
The soft creak of floorboards stirred the quiet as another pair of steps joined the low hum of conversation. Shin, his figure silhouetted in the faint moonlight bleeding through the cracked window, crossed the room toward them, rubbing the lingering stiffness from his shoulder.
"You two are still awake," he said, his voice low but steady. His sharp gaze flicked between Kent and Evelyn, reading the exhaustion on their faces without needing to ask why.
Kent glanced up, forcing a dry smirk. "Could say the same for you."
Shin gave a small shrug, standing beside them with his hands resting loosely at his sides. "Couldn't sleep either. Figured I wasn't the only one." His tone was casual, but there was a tension underneath — something about all of this weighed too heavy for any of them to pretend otherwise.
Another soft set of footsteps echoed from behind as Alix appeared, her hair still slightly tousled, the fatigue in her eyes clear as day. She paused near Shin, hugging her arms against the chill, looking between the three of them.
"Guess none of us are sleeping tonight," she murmured, her voice softer, more fragile than usual.
Shin glanced her way, then back at Kent and Evelyn. The four of them stood in a loose circle, the weight of the night pressing down, making the silence feel heavier than the air around them.
"Looks like reality finally caught up," Shin muttered, his voice flat but honest. "And it's not going away anytime soon."
Alix lowered her gaze, her hands tightening slightly around her own arms. "This whole thing… it feels like a nightmare someone forgot to wake us up from."
Evelyn exhaled, brushing her fingers against her temple. "And the worst part is, I don't think any of us know what morning's even supposed to look like anymore."
Kent shifted his weight against the wall, staring off into the distance again before speaking. "Morning's probably gonna be worse."
A long pause settled over them, and then Shin's voice cut through the quiet again, sharp but level.
"We can't fall apart yet," he said, glancing toward the sleeping Elie, then back to the group. "Not now. Not until we know what Fatal's next move is."
Kent nodded faintly, locking eyes with Shin. "Yeah. Not until then."
The four of them stood in the dim silence, the night stretching on — the weight of what was coming, heavy and unspoken, looming in every breath.
Alix let out a quiet sigh, her arms finally dropping to her sides as the exhaustion she'd been holding off began to win.
"I'm going back to bed," she mumbled, barely above a whisper. Her voice was strained but steady, as if saying it out loud gave her the permission she needed to retreat from the weight of the conversation.
The others didn't argue. As her footsteps faded softly back toward the worn-out couch they'd all been crashing on, Shin shifted, running a hand through his hair.
"Yeah," he muttered under his breath, glancing once at Kent, then at Evelyn. "We'll need whatever rest we can get, even if it's useless."
Without waiting for a reply, he pushed himself away from the wall and moved across the dimly lit cabin, his steps slow and heavy until the old floor creaked under the spot he'd claimed earlier.
Evelyn lingered, her gaze flicking between Kent and the dark space where Shin had disappeared. She hesitated — her thoughts still restless — but her body gave in.
"Goodnight," she whispered, barely glancing back at Kent as she turned and headed for the blanket she'd abandoned earlier, curling beneath it in silence.
And then the cabin was quiet.
Kent stood alone, the only sound left being the faint rustle of leaves outside and the occasional crackle of the dying fire. The dim glow cast long shadows across the room, stretching along the walls like the weight of memories that wouldn't let him sleep.
His mind wandered, looping back to the same place it always did — her. The pieces of that broken relationship still clung to him like glass splinters, sharp and impossible to pull free. He leaned against the wooden frame of the cabin, staring at nothing, lost in it.
Another sleepless night. Another battle that hadn't even started yet.