Cassandra stepped into the dark forest, her pace slow but certain. The slightly damp earth released the scent of decaying leaves, and the only sound accompanying her was the soft crackle of twigs beneath her feet.
The wind blew gently, cold creeping against her skin despite the thick coat she wore. There was no light other than the small flashlight in her hand, casting beams upon towering trees and wild underbrush that greeted her along the narrow path.
This forest... Death Forest. The name alone was enough to keep most people away. Known as the place with the highest number of suicides, it carried a grim aura and a collection of harrowing tales passed from one mouth to another. Some believed it was haunted. Others thought it was a magnet for those who had lost all hope.
Cassandra let out a quiet breath, keeping her mind calm.
"If Eliana came here, it wasn't without reason," she murmured, eyes scanning the ground for tracks. "She likely didn't come to die… but because of her overwhelming curiosity."
She mentally laid out a hypothesis:
Eliana was known for diving into strange and sensitive research topics.
She might have heard about the mass suicides in this forest and felt compelled to investigate.
But if she never came back… there's a high chance she discovered something she wasn't meant to.
Cassandra sharpened her focus. In a place like this, even the tiniest clue could carry meaning. She pressed forward, pushing through the darkness and silence that seemed to swallow time itself, searching for Eliana or at the very least, the truth hidden behind the forest's mute trees.
Her footsteps grew quieter, nearly soundless, as she activated her Predator ability.
In an instant, her vision adjusted to the pitch-black surroundings. Shadows turned luminous, outlines of trees and branches glowed in soft contours. As payment, a month of her lifespan vanished without a trace. To her, it was a fair trade.
"This should help a little," she muttered flatly.
But her body reacted faster than her thoughts. Her teeth elongated, sharp fangs protruding from beneath her lips. A primal instinct, a hunter's craving etched deep in her blood, flared awake.
She immediately restrained herself, pushing the instinct back down. The fangs receded, and a small grin curled on her lips, cold and controlled.
"I've learned to hold this back," she whispered in a low voice, like a predator speaking to itself. Her eyes narrowed, sharp, cutting through the darkness.
"But that girl's mission… I still have to finish it."
With light, soundless steps, Cassandra continued her trek into the blackness of the forest. The Predator's aura within her now served as a guide, not just as a hunter, but as an investigator seeking answers, ready to confront whatever lurked behind the deathly trees of this forest.
She moved deeper into the forest, the silence wrapping around her like a second skin. Only the rustling wind through leaves and the creak of ancient branches accompanied her. It was so quiet, even her own breath felt like a whisper between the towering trees that loomed like shadowy towers. Her night vision, courtesy of her Predator power, helped her see everything, every moving bush, every root jutting from the ground, and every detail invisible to ordinary eyes.
Her steps halted.
On the mossy ground, not far from the exposed roots of a giant tree, something caught her eye, a stark contrast to the green and brown around it.
A human hand, lying stiff and cold, already partially decayed. The fingers were curled as if they had been gripping something in their final moments.
Its bluish, pale skin proved it had long since separated from the rest of the body. Cassandra stared at it with no emotion, her eyes only scanning, assessing.
"A severed hand?" she whispered, brow furrowing slightly, but without real surprise. She'd seen death in far worse forms. Even so, finding a human part in this cursed forest was far from ordinary.
She knelt down slowly, her movement balanced and fluid. She touched the earth around the hand. No drag marks. No fresh blood.
The piece had been there for a while, but not long enough to be completely decomposed. Slipping on black gloves, she handled it with the meticulous care of a professional. She placed it in an evidence bag, sealed it tightly, labeled it with a special marker, and slipped it into her large backpack slung over her right shoulder.
That bag wasn't made for hiking. It was built for investigation and survival, filled with forensic tools, field notes, emergency medical gear, and even concealed weapons.
Cassandra stood tall, her posture calm and steady. Her eyes swept across the forest again. The chilling atmosphere of Death Forest crawled over her skin, but she remained composed, even as her Predator instincts stirred again, signaling she was getting close to something.
"If a body part made it out here, then someone wanted it found. Or… someone failed to hide it."
Silently, she continued, leaving the site behind, her steps deliberate and watchful. No fear, only analysis, caution, and a determined will to find Eliana Vermith. Whether as a victim… or perhaps something more.
She paused again at a spot where the ground looked disturbed, faint footprints, unnaturally broken twigs, and a scrap of fabric caught on thorny underbrush. Narrowing her eyes, she slowly removed her backpack and opened a front pocket where her light investigation tools were stored.
With precision and speed, she retrieved a compact digital camera designed for low-light photography. Soft clicks echoed as she captured each detail footprints, the direction of the broken twigs, and the torn cloth, which appeared to be part of a formal outfit or lab coat. Something consistent with descriptions of Eliana, who, according to her sister, often did research and exploration in remote areas.
Cassandra opened her notebook. In neat, compact handwriting, she recorded every detail: the discovery site, weather conditions, the direction of the tracks, and her initial analysis of the possible route taken by whoever had left them.
"Movement likely heading west of the forest. Footprints are shallow, not heavy. Possibly female. Tracks aren't too old, maybe two to five days ago. But wind and soil moisture could've affected that..."
She jotted it all down swiftly, then marked the location with a small, needle-shaped pin made of thin metal. Once everything was in place, she stood and looked deeper into the forest.
"These tracks don't end here. Something dragged or guided her further in..." she murmured coldly, slipping the notebook back into the inner pocket of her coat.
Her steps resumed, tracing the forest's shadows, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to ensure that whatever left the tracks, if still alive wasn't watching her in return.
According to Lina's notes, Eliana's disappearance occurred about three weeks ago, roughly twenty-one days. Cassandra linked that information to what she had just found: a smear of dried blood staining the tree bark. She stepped closer, observing carefully the color and dryness. If the blood was truly over twenty days old, it should've begun to fade, washed away by rain, dew, and time.
But in reality, the color remained vivid, clinging stubbornly to the rough surface. There was a discrepancy.
"To some, this might look like an old murder trail, proof that Eliana was killed here," she whispered while reaching into her pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. With a calm gesture, she lit one and inhaled slowly, letting her mind run through the cracks in logic.
"The assumption... if these tracks are recent," she said through a plume of smoke, "then there are two main possibilities, Eliana is still alive and returned here, or this has nothing to do with Eliana at all, but someone else unknowingly tied to her case."
She looked back at the tree, memorizing its details. Her instincts as an investigator couldn't be ignored, this wasn't just coincidence. This forest held more than just tales of suicide or haunted whispers. And fresh blood in a place this silent never appeared without a reason.
Cassandra stepped deeper into the dark embrace of the woods, letting the shadows and the rustling trees become her guide. Her boots pressed into damp, mossy earth, her black coat flowing with each careful stride. The night wind brushed her face gently, carrying a faint scent that tugged at her senses.
With the heightened sense of smell she gained three years ago a gift she paid dearly for by absorbing the life of her prey, Cassandra could detect scents far beyond human capability. Now, her nose caught three distinct aromas: thick blood, a recently extinguished candle, and jasmine too fragrant to be growing wild in this dreary forest.
"Blood… fresh, but not much," she murmured. "Candle… ritual, maybe? And jasmine… strange. Too fragrant for such a quiet night."
Her hunting instincts flared. She closed her eyes briefly, focusing, then began following the overlapping trail of scents. Each step took her farther from the beaten path, navigating exposed roots and thorny bushes, until the darkness seemed to melt into her skin.
The forest grew eerily silent. No night birds, no creaking branches, as if the whole woods were holding its breath, waiting.
Cassandra kept moving. There was no hesitation in her stride. Only cold determination and sharp instincts guided her, chasing answers through the thickening mist of mystery.
She soon stood before an old structure, half-buried by soil and wild undergrowth as if the place had been purposefully hidden from the world. The scent of blood grew stronger, thick and clinging, putting every fiber of her being on alert. This place held something... something that didn't belong within the forest's silence.
"So this is it…" she whispered, stepping forward slowly, dimming her presence as though she were nothing more than a shadow slipping through darkness.
Ancient magic she once studied remnants of a world long buried in history, now pulsed beneath her skin. Silent spells whispered through her thoughts, helping shield her from the awareness of entities or magical traps possibly lying in wait. Cassandra moved through the damp corridors, thick with the smell of rusted iron and something more rotten than ordinary death.
Eventually, she came upon a tightly sealed room. She pushed the door open slowly, the creaking hinge wailing like a ghost's lament. Inside, a foul stench burst forth. The room was filled with mutilated bodies, piled cruelly, some even still fresh. Cassandra's eyes swept across each face, searching for anything familiar from the photo Lina had given her.
No brown hair.
No greenish-gray eyes.
No Eliana.
Cassandra let out a breath not of relief, but of disappointment and heightened caution. "If she's not here..." she thought, eyes coldly scanning the pile of corpses. "That means Eliana is still alive. Or... hidden elsewhere. But who did this?"
She pulled out her notebook and began scribbling a new hypothesis.
"This place... it's not just a site of massacre. It's a ritual ground. There's the scent of candles... and blood, fresh blood. Whoever did this likely returns here regularly. But Eliana isn't among the dead. Which means she's not a victim... she's the target of something far greater."
Cassandra slowly stepped into one of the side rooms off the corridor. An old chandelier swung gently from the ceiling, moved by an unseen breeze. On a decaying wooden table, coated in dust and dark blotches, possibly dried blood, lay an old leather-bound book.
Carefully, she opened to the first page. The parchment was filled with clawed script in faded ink, but she recognized it immediately: the Language of Ancient Summoning. Page after page revealed diagrams of magic circles and ritual layouts, until she reached a section marked with a deep red thread, a soul offering ritual meant to summon a demon from the deepest layer of hell.
"Hm..." she muttered, eyes sharp as they scanned each instruction, each symbol, until one word caught her attention: "Melayla." A name said to be the guardian of the veil between the real world and the demonic.
Wasting no time, Cassandra returned to the morgue. The stench of blood and death seemed thicker now, intensified by the knowledge from the book. With cold precision, she examined the necks of the bodies. Then another. And another. All bore the same telltale sign: clean, circular slash marks across their throats, refined, but deep. Like an offering.
Yet something still nagged at her. She paused, eyes narrowing at the corpses. "But why haven't they decayed normally? Why do some of them seem... dried out?"
Her mind began connecting the dots. This forest had a grim reputation, Death Forest, a place infamous for suicides. Could it be that those who came here to die weren't just suicidal... but were used by occultists exploiting their despair?
"They came to die... and someone was waiting. Using them," she murmured coldly. "But not all came on their own. Some could've been brought. Maybe even Eliana."
She wrote another note:
New Hypothesis: This place is used for demonic summoning rituals fueled by desperate souls. Eliana may not be a random victim, but part of a greater plan.
Lighting another cigarette, Cassandra's gaze pierced the dark room. She knew the truth was far more horrifying than anything she had uncovered so far.
She moved forward, slowly, down the narrowing, darkening corridor. The silence was overwhelming, only her faint footsteps and steady heartbeat filled the void. The stone walls felt damp, and the metallic stench of blood grew stronger with each step.
At the corridor's end, she saw her: a girl bound to a stone pillar. Long, tangled brown hair. Pale skin marred with lash marks. Her body trembled. Eyes wide open, yet unfocused, staring into nothing. It was Eliana.
The girl mumbled under her breath, repeating the same haunting phrase like a broken mantra:
"Don't open... don't open... that eye will awaken..."
Cassandra lowered herself quietly, hiding within the shadows. Her instincts screamed, something was wrong. Eliana's tormentor might still be near. She scanned the room, and then spotted it near the wall:
A cigar stub. Still warm, a faint wisp of smoke curling from its end. The ember glowed weakly, it had just been extinguished.
Cassandra's eyes sharpened, her expression calm but steely. Her hand slid inside her coat, fingers brushing the hidden weapon.
"Someone was just here. And they might still be watching."
Staying within the shadows, she silently approached Eliana, examining the chains that bound her. They weren't normal iron, but cursed steel, often used in magic to bind entities or sacrificial victims.
"You're alive... and that's enough for now," she whispered softly to Eliana.
But then, a faint noise echoed from the far end of the hallway, heavy footsteps. Someone was approaching.
She was no longer alone.
Still, Cassandra didn't act rashly. Saving Eliana was important, but this place... it held secrets far more compelling. The scent of ancient blood, the pulsing symbols carved into the walls, and the heavy ritualistic air stirred both her hunter's instinct and her curiosity. She wanted answers. Who were they? What was the true purpose behind this all?
The soft echo of footsteps grew closer. Two figures in red robes entered the room, shrouded in a dark aura. Their hoods concealed their faces, their movements calm, deliberate. Cassandra held her breath, letting her concealment spell merge her with the surrounding shadows. She became the darkness, unseen.
From behind a cracked wall, she listened intently.
"The girl... seems to be the final offering," murmured a man's voice, deep and flat, as though this was routine.
"She will be slaughtered," replied a woman, her tone serene, as if embracing fate.
Cassandra looked at Eliana, chained, weakened, skin torn. But her own eyes burned with focus. If this was a true ancient summoning, it was far more than just a kidnapping. It was a piece of something much bigger, and Cassandra intended to learn everything before she ended it.