We started walking down the path the old man pointed out.
The forest wasn't exactly filled with life, but it wasn't dead either — a few birds fluttered in the distance, and something small darted across the trail once or twice. Normal enough.
Hana kept glancing at the compass like she didn't trust it. "Okay… either this thing's busted or it's losing its mind."
"What's it doing?" Josh asked.
"It's spinning. South, then east, then north… now it's just—" She tapped it. The needle froze for half a second, then the glass cracked with a soft snap.
Lexi stepped closer, peering over her
shoulder. "Is that supposed to happen?"
"No," Hana said flatly.
Andrew laughed nervously. "Cool. Guess
we're officially off the grid now."
I tried to make light of it. "Well, we weren't exactly planning to hike by compass anyway."
"Still," Hana muttered, pocketing the broken thing. "It's weird."
We kept moving.
About twenty minutes later, we reached a fork in the path — left or right. Both looked identical, swallowed in green. No signs. No markers.
"The old guy said left, right?" Josh asked.
"Yeah," I said. "Left."
So we went left.
And that's when it started to change.
The light filtered through the trees differently. Dimmer. The breeze stopped. The forest felt tighter somehow, like the trees were leaning just a little closer than before.
A bush rustled nearby — not loud, just enough to stop us in our tracks.
Andrew flinched. "Jesus. Squirrel or demon?"
"Hopefully squirrel," Lexi muttered, not
sounding convinced.
Nobody laughed.
The longer we walked, the more off it felt.
Like the silence was listening to us.
No one said it out loud, but we all started looking over our shoulders more than we should've.
The trees finally thinned.
We stepped out into a clearing—and there it was.
A village.
Dozens of small wooden structures, arranged in tight, perfect rows. Smoke curled gently from a few chimneys. Gardens were neatly plotted. Wind chimes made of bone and shells hung from porches, clinking softly even without wind.
People were there. Actual people. Quiet, working, moving slowly like they were underwater. And the second they saw us—every head turned.
For a moment, no one said anything.
Then one of them smiled.
A woman, maybe mid-forties, with long silver hair braided down to her waist. She stepped forward.
"Well," she said warmly, "you must be the visitors."
Lexi blinked. "How did you know—?"
The woman held up a hand, still smiling. "The King told us."
None of us responded.
A man in the crowd rang a small bell—once.
Just once. And suddenly the villagers all moved at once, like they'd rehearsed it. A small table was being set up. A bench appeared.
A boy no older than eight ran to place cups of water on a tray. Others carried baskets of fruit, bread, meat.
It looked… generous.
Too generous.
"You must be tired," the woman said.
"Please. Eat. Rest. It's a long journey through the forest. We're honored to host you."
Josh leaned toward me and whispered, "Either this is the nicest cult ever… or we're about to get drugged. Like the fucking Mid-Sommer movie."
Andrew was already eyeing the bread. "Well, if I die, at least I die full."
"Shut up," Hana muttered.
I looked back at the villagers. All of them were watching us with wide, polite smiles.
Too still. Too quiet.
Then the woman said, in that same friendly voice, "Tonight, we'll have a feast. In your honor."
"For us?" I asked.
She nodded. "Of course. The King is very pleased you're here."
There it was again.
The King.
The smiles didn't fade. But it suddenly felt like none of us were hungry anymore.
The woman's smile widened, but her eyes remained eerily calm.
"I am Merea, and this is Elden's Hollow. It's a small community, but we are bound by the King's blessing."
She glanced around at the others, who all nodded silently in agreement.
"Visitors are rare here. You are the first in many years."
I shifted uncomfortably. "And… the King? What exactly is the King's blessing?"
Merea's smile flickered just a fraction, almost like a shadow passed over her face.
"The King watches. Protects. Demands respect. And he rewards those who honor him."
"Tonight's feast is our way of welcoming you into his grace."
A chill ran down my spine.
Then we saw some other people—clearly not just us visitors here.
A young woman stepped forward, eyes bright and her aura radiated warmth and positivity.
"Holy shit, looks like we're not the only ones, huh?" she said with a friendly smile.
Josh stepped closer, confused. "I'm sorry, who are you?"
"Oh, where are my manners? I'm Jonny, and this is my husband, Rodger."
Rodger grunted tiredly, "Fuck you."
Jonny laughed softly. "Ignore him, he's not much for socializing—especially with the mosquitoes."
I asked, "So, are you here for the same reason? Exploring the island?"
"Exactly!" Jonny said, pulling out a camera.
"We're documenting everything."
She aimed the camera at us. "Say hi!"
We managed half-smiles as the shutter clicked.
Then another local, an older man standing nearby, gave a subtle nod toward the trees and said quietly, "The King likes to watch new faces. Make sure you keep him pleased."
Rodger frowned, looking confused. "The King? What the hell's that about?"
The older man just smiled thinly and said, "You'll find out soon enough."