The Price Of Hatred

Chapter 1 - No Nice Men Here.

“There’s only one rule in this fucking jungle.”

​James stood in the dead center of the dense wilderness, carved into the shadows cast by towering ancient trees. High above, thick branches twisted together like gnarled bone, choking out the sunlight and trapping the suffocating heat below.

​His gun was already up. Steady. Unwavering.

​The cold steel barrel pointed directly at the space between Rune’s eyes.

​Rune—the fourth man foolish enough to cross the perimeter with them—was backed against the massive root system of a dying oak. His spine dug into the rough bark, his breathing coming in frantic, hitching gasps. Sweat slicked his pale forehead, catching what little light bled through the canopy, and his terrified eyes remained glued to the weapon in James's hand.

​James’s face was a mask of brutal composure. No anger. No pulse in his jaw. Just a flat, predatory calm that was infinitely more terrifying.

​“When the lion is hungry…”

​James didn't blink. He slowly took up the slack on the trigger, the soft clack of internal steel sounding like a death sentence in the humid air.

​“…he eats.”

​The last drop of color drained from Rune’s face.

​“Please! Don't kill me!” His voice shattered into a desperate sob as he threw both hands up, palms open, trembling violently. “I haven't found anything since we got here! I swear to God! I just want to leave this fucking place!”

​James didn't move an inch. His shoulders remained loose, his stance relaxed—a hunter waiting for a target to stop thrashing.

​Rune’s chest heaved, his lungs fighting for air in the heavy mist. “Everything feels wrong,” he stammered, his eyes darting frantically from the gun to the oppressive wall of green around them. “Something is wrong with this place. I can feel it in my gut.”

​James narrowed his eyes, a flicker of dark annoyance passing over his iris.

​“It feels like this jungle has been using us,” Rune choked out.

​“Nothing is wrong.” James finally lowered the barrel, though his posture never lost its edge. “We’re just lost.”

​He ran a gloved hand slowly through his dark hair, slick with humidity, his piercing gaze sweeping the surrounding tree line with methodical precision.

​He hadn't even finished his breath before Rune snapped.

​“We?”

​James’s head snapped back to him, cold and slow.

​Rune let out a sharp, bitter laugh—a dry, raspy sound stripped of any humor. “There is no we, James.” His knees shook so hard they knocked together. “Don't you fucking get it?”

​Rune pushed his back against the tree, trying to claw himself upright, his gaze darting nervously into the black voids between the trunks.

​“We're all lost,” Rune whispered, a teardrop cutting a clean line through the dirt on his cheek. “We don't know where Calix is. We don't know where Todd is. We don't even know if they're still breathing!”

​James stared at him, his silence heavy enough to crush him.

​“Calix was all I had,” Rune’s voice broke completely, dropping into a jagged whisper. He looked down at his ruined, mud-stained hands. “And now he’s gone somewhere deeper into this hellhole.” His fingers clawed into the wet dirt beneath him. “I don't even know what possessed me to follow you into this.”

​Then, the jungle died.

​It wasn't a gradual quiet—it was an instantaneous, unnatural suffocating silence. The wind vanished. The overhead leaves ceased their rustling. Even the incessant, buzzing insects fell dead silent.

​The air turned heavy, thick with the metallic reek of ozone and ancient decay.

​James’s eyes flicked upward.

​Rune felt it too. The color faded from his lips entirely. “James…”

​James didn't answer. He didn't even breathe.

​Something moved.

​Not on the jungle floor. Not in the brush behind them.

​Above.

​A subtle, sickening ripple passed through the trees—a pressure wave in the air, as if a massive, invisible weight was moving seamlessly from branch to branch directly over their heads.

​Rune’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Did you… did you feel that?”

​James remained frozen, a statue in the dark. His hand drifted back toward the holster at his hip with slow, fluid perfection.

​For five agonizing seconds, neither man drew breath.

​Then, James looked down at Rune. His tone dropped an octave—smooth, quiet, and chillingly indifferent.

​“If you want to leave…” James murmured, “…then get the fuck up and leave.”

​He turned his back. Completely. Unconcerned with whether Rune lived, died, or ran.

​Trembling like a leaf in a storm, Rune forced his weak legs to lock. He pushed off the bark, swaying slightly as he stood. He glared at the broad expanse of James’s back. Fear was suffocating him, but a sudden, bitter spike of adrenaline surged through his blood.

​“Remember something, James,” Rune called out, his voice cracking with a desperate, tragic pride.

​James stopped dead in his tracks.

​Rune swallowed hard, forcing his chin up. “Only the brave make it out of a place like this.”

​James turned his head. Just enough for a single, icy eye to catch Rune in his periphery.

​Rune locked eyes with him. “But the brave aren't always the ones who survive.”

​James turned around fully.

​No fear touched his features. No anger flinched across his brow. Instead, his expression melted into something far worse—a hollow, merciless malice that made Rune instantly regret opening his mouth.

​James took one slow, heavy step forward, closing the distance like a shadow blocking out the sun.

​“Only if you make it out alive.”

​Rune froze, the air locked in his throat.

​ROOOOOAAAR!

​A deafening, primal shriek shattered the silence, erupting from the black depths of the jungle. The sheer acoustic force rattled the ground beneath their boots and sent shockwaves through the ancient trees.

​Rune flinched hard, dropping to one knee, clutching his ears.

​James didn't flinch. In a fraction of a second, his weapon was up, locked into his shoulder, tracking the dark canopy ahead. His muscles coiled like steel springs, his eyes wide, sharp, and hunting.

​And for the first time since they had stepped foot in the jungle…

​James smiled.

​“Now,” he whispered, his index finger resting lightly against the cold metal of the trigger. “Let's find out who's hungry.”

Rune shook his head frantically, his voice dropping into a raspy, terrified whisper. “Fuck.”

​“I’m out of here,” Rune spat, scrambling to his feet. Without waiting another second, he cast a frantic glance down the dark left path, changed his mind, and darted down the right.

​James didn't try to stop him. He simply adjusted his grip on his gun and began trudging down the left path, his boots sinking into the rot of the jungle floor.

​As distance grew between them, the wilderness swallowed their footfalls, settling into an eerie, suffocating quiet.

​Nearly a mile away, Rune was running blindly through the shadows, branches clawing at his skin, when a voice suddenly echoed inside his skull. Cold. Rasping. Whispering directly against his mind.

​“Where do you think you’re going, little hunter?”

​Rune froze in his tracks, his breath hitching as his heart slammed against his ribs. He spun in circles, staring wild-eyed into the trees. “Who’s that?! I can hear you!”

​“It’s me… Mama Ghoula,” the voice slithered through his mind like venom. “Calix’s mama…”

​Rune’s chest heaved, sheer terror choking him. “What the hell do you want from us?!” he screamed at the empty trees.

​“What else could it be… if not for what you pathetic humans took away from me?”

​“We never took anything from you!” Rune yelled back, wiping sweat and dirt from his forehead.

​“Brother…”

​Rune whipped around, his breath catching in his throat.

​Standing just a few feet away was Calix.

​Calix stood unnaturally still, his eyes closed. His clothes were shredded and soaked in thick, dark blood. Fresh crimson smeared his lips and chin, dripping onto his chest as if he had just fed on raw meat.

​“Calix?” Rune swallowed hard, his chest tightening as he took a cautious step back. “What’s wrong with you? What’s all this… whose blood is that?!”

​Slowly, Calix’s eyes snapped open. They were entirely black—devoid of light or life.

​“Mama Ghoula…” Calix said, his voice deep, hollow, and distorted, sounding like two people speaking at once. “…has told me a little secret. Come, brother… let me tell you.”

​Calix tilted his head with a sickening crunch. “Then I shall deliver you to Mama Ghoula.”

​“What nonsense are you fucking saying?!” Rune backed away, his hands shaking. “What the fuck is going on, What the hell is wrong with you?!”

​In that fraction of a second, a voice shouted from the brush behind him—

​“Rune!”

​Rune flinched, looking back toward the sound.

​“Rune!” James burst through the thick foliage, breathing hard, his gun drawn. “I almost died—”

​Rune cut him off frantically, looking back and forth. “What the hell is going on?! I just saw Calix right here and he vanished!”

​James’s eyes widened slightly. “You saw Calix?”

​“He could have fucking tried to killed me!” Rune yelled. “He sounded like he was possessed by a witch!”

​“Called Mama Ghoula,” James gritted out, scanning the dark canopy around them.

​The moment James uttered the name, the atmospheric pressure plunged. The air turned impossibly heavy, smelling of sulfur and rot.

​Rune’s face drained of what little color remained. “You shouldn’t have said that name…”

​James met his eyes, his expression darkening. “We need to run. Right now.” He turned to move, but Rune hesitated, rooted to the spot.

​“No… I can’t leave Calix,” Rune muttered, his voice cracking. “I have to find him. I can’t leave him here!”

​“He’s going to kill you!” James barked, grabbing Rune’s jacket. “Then he’s going to deliver you to his fucking Mama Gho—”

​“Don’t say that name!” a woman’s voice shrieked from the tree line. “Just don’t fucking say it!”

​Luna sprinted out from the shadows, gasping for air, her hair tangled with dirt and leaves.

​James instantly raised his weapon, eyeing her with fierce suspicion. “Luna? Is this really you, or are you some fucking possessed daughter of Mama Gho—”

​“Don’t fucking say that name! It can hear us!” Luna screamed, her hands flying to her ears before dropping to her sides. “It’s me! I’m not possessed!”

​“Okay, if it’s really you, what the fuck are you doing here?” James demanded cold-bloodedly. “Back at camp, you said you weren’t coming with us.”

​“I know, but we came,” Luna panted.

​James caught the word instantly. “We?”

​“Yes, we,” Luna admitted, her shoulders dropping. “I didn’t come alone. We all came. Anna is here. Clara is here. And Sirius is here too… but—” She choked on her words. “Sirius is dead.”

​“What? How? What happened to him?” Rune asked, stepping forward.

​“He’s dead, Rune!” Luna snapped, tears cutting through the dirt on her face. “He was mauled to death… bitten to pieces by your fucking friend Calix!”

​Rune backed away, shaking his head. “No… no, I don’t believe that.”

​“I do,” James interjected coldly. “Because Calix almost killed me two miles back. Said he was going to deliver me to his fucking Mama Ghou—”

​“I asked you NOT to say that name!” Luna shrieked.

​James exhaled sharply, lowering his gun an inch. “Okay. So what are we going to do right now? How are we getting out of this jungle? We haven’t even found the hidden gold we came for.”

​Rune looked between them both, his mind working fast. “There’s only one way we might get out of here alive.”

​James and Luna stared at him. “How?”

​“We have to return what we took from her,” Rune said softly. “She spoke to me inside my head. She said, 'What could it be, if not for what you pathetic humans took from me?'”

​“Who’s she?” James demanded.

​“She’s a witch,” Luna whispered. “A jungle witch called Mama Ghoula.”

​James scoffed, his gaze hardening. “What kind of power does she have? What makes you so sure she’s a witch?”

​“She is a witch, James! And she’s not a nice one!”

​“There was never a nice witch,” James said flatly.

​“Will you just stop, or do you want us all to die here?!” Rune snapped. “She said we took something!”

​“We haven’t taken a damn thing since we got here!” James growled.

​Luna looked away nervously. “We… kind of took something from her. But we didn’t think she’d be hungry.”

​Rune’s eyes nearly bulged. “What?! You took something from a hungry witch and thought she wouldn’t get mad?! Oh damn it, we are dead!”

​“She’s the reason we came!” Luna defended herself, her voice cracking with raw emotion. “She has what we all came for! And since I already took it, I’m not giving it back!”

​“Fuck that,” James sneered, stepping into her space. “So you knew the witch had the gold before we even set foot in this hellhole?”

​“Yes! I knew she had it! But I didn’t steal it directly from her hands!” Luna yelled back. “The gold was buried right beside an old cabin in the clearing! We saw the chest while scanning the area, so we dug it up… and then we burned the house!”

​“You burned the house?!” Rune gasped in horror. “Why the fuck would you do that?!”

​“Blaming me isn’t going to solve the fucking problem in this jungle!” Luna cried out.

​Suddenly, a heavy, oppressive silence fell over them again.

​A agonizing, echoing roar sounded from deep within the forest—miles away, yet sounding as though it bounced off the inside of James’s skull.

​James flinched, clutching his temple. “Did either of you hear that?”

​Luna and Rune exchanged confused looks. “What sound?” Luna asked.

​James took a slow breath, realizing the noise hadn't travelled through the air. “Never mind… felt like something was shouting inside my head.”

​“Look, we know how to kill her,” Luna urged, grabbing James’s arm. “We need to get to Anna.”

​They didn't waste another second. Luna took the lead, with Rune close behind her and James bringing up the rear. But James kept his thumb resting on the hammer of his gun. He didn't trust Luna. Not for a second.

​As they ran through the dark undergrowth, the witch’s raspy whisper invaded James’s mind once more.

​“Where do you think you’re going, little stray hunter? You are mine… And none of you will leave this jungle to see the sun after dark, when it is time for me to eat.”

​Minutes later, they broke through a dense patch of ferns into a small clearing.

​Anna was on the ground, groaning as she tried to drag herself upright against a mossy log. Her left leg was mangled, covered in dark, sticky blood.

​“Anna! I’m here, take it easy!” Luna dropped to her knees beside her.

​Rune recoiled. “Holy shit… what happened to her leg?!”

​“She was bitten by a snake!” Luna claimed frantically, trying to hoist Anna up. “A huge one!”

​James stepped forward, staring down at the jagged wounds torn into Anna’s flesh. His eyes narrowed.

​“A snake?” James echoed smoothly, his tone dripping with cold suspicion. “Yeah… a really big snake, right?”

​He knew human teeth marks when he saw them. That wasn't a snake bite. Calix had tried to eat her alive.

​Rune looked around the empty clearing. “You said Clara was here… where is she?”

​Luna froze, her chest tightening. She kept her back to them, pretending to adjust Anna’s bandages to avoid Rune’s eyes.

​“You heard him,” James said dangerously. “Where’s Clara?”

​“She… she didn’t make it out,” Luna stammered. “She got trapped inside the house we burned.”

​“You mean the witch’s house,” Anna rasped out, her voice barely a breath.

​Rune stumbled back. “What?”

​“It was the witch’s house,” Anna whispered, tears leaking from her pale eyes. “We burned it… and Clara died inside. The gold we dug up wasn't just gold. It belonged to the witch’s husband.”

​A sudden, freezing gust of wind whipped through the clearing, choking out what little daylight remained. The sky plunged into pitch blackness in a matter of seconds.

​“They were both murdered in this jungle decades ago,” Anna murmured, her head tilting back as her eyes rolled up into her head. “But she was buried alive…”

​“How do you know that?” James demanded, stepping closer.

​Anna’s neck snapped forward. Her jaw unhinged unnaturally, her eyes completely black as a horrific, booming voice tore from her throat:

​“SHE TOLD ME!”

​Before anyone could react, a shockwave of invisible air detonated in the middle of the clearing.

​The blast lifted all three of them off their feet. James flew backward, his spine slamming violently into the trunk of a massive tree, knocking the breath from his lungs. Rune crashed into the brush, his neck snapping sideways against a low branch. Luna hit the dirt hard, while Anna slumped over, completely unconscious.

​James groaned, clutching his ribs as he forced himself onto his knees. The sky above was dead black.

​“We have to move…” James wheezed, remembering the witch’s promise. None of you will see the sun after dark. “We’re her meat tonight if we stay here.”

​Luna scrambled through the dirt toward him, pulling a strange, bone-handled dagger decorated with ancient runes from behind her waist. “There’s only one way to kill her! Only this blade can end her!”

​“Then give it to me,” James growled, reaching out as he took a step forward.

​Luna reached out to hand him the knife—

​SNAP!

​Thick, gnarled tree roots erupted from the soil like wooden serpents. One coiled tightly around Luna’s ankle, another wrapping around James’s leg.

​Luna shrieked as she was violently yanked backward, dragged face-down through the dirt into the pitch-black jungle.

​The knife tumbled from her hand, landing in the mud just inches from James.

​As the roots bound around James’s leg and dragged him toward the wall of dark trees, he dropped to his chest, extended his arm with everything he had, and snatched the bone dagger off the ground right before the darkness pulled him in.

Groaning through broken ribs, James opened his bloodshot eyes.

​He was hanging upside down, twelve feet above the forest floor, his boots bound tightly by a thick, writhing coil of tree roots. Below him, the dark canopy was silent, save for the hum of flies.

​Then, he felt it.

​A agonizing, insect-like weight shifted along the root above his legs, creeping downward toward him.

​James squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head up into the gloom. What he saw defied nature.

​The creature was unnatural, skeletal, and impossibly tall. It possessed no skin—only dried, black ash stretched over yellowed bone. Its hands ended in six-inch talons, and its joints bent backward like a spider's as it crawled along the wood, directly down toward his face.

​“What the hell…” James wheezed, his throat raw. “Ah, fuck me…”

​Mama Ghoula stopped when her horrifying face was inches from his.

​Her jaw slackened, and a slick, purple tongue—as long as a snake's—slid out from between her sharp teeth. She licked a wet line straight up James's cheek, tasting his sweat and blood. She leaned into his ear, her chest rattling as she prepared to whisper the spell that had hollowed out Calix.

​Suddenly, her nostrils flared. She caught his scent.

​Her black, socketed eyes widened. With a violent, unnatural jerk, she scuttled backward up the root like a frightened scorpion.

​“Who are you?” Her voice boomed directly inside James’s brain, vibrating through his skull. “What does your bloodline carry?! What dark fate are you meant to fulfill?!”

​James spat a mouthful of blood onto the mud below, his dark eyes locking onto her terrifying shape.

​“Fuck you,” James growled. “Wash your goddamn tongue before you lick my face—”

​Before she could strike, James hauled himself upward, hooked his elbows over his leg restraints, and sliced clean through the gnarled roots with his pocket blade.

​He plummeted to the ground, landing hard in the mud. Mama Ghoula dropped right behind him, her bone joints snapping loudly as she hit the earth.

​In one fluid motion, James pulled the black, bone-handled dagger he had snatched from Luna and lunged forward. He aimed straight for her throat, driving the blade deep into the witch’s neck.

​Mama Ghoula didn't flinch. Her leg twisted behind her at a grotesque, impossible angle, locking her footing. She grabbed James’s wrist with a hand like an iron vise, pulling his arm off her throat with a horrifying squelch.

​The dagger remained buried in her flesh.

​Before James could pull a second weapon, her free hand lashed out. Her bone fingers drove straight into James’s torso, tearing through his jacket and flesh. With effortless, terrifying strength, she hurled James across the clearing.

​His body smashed through a thick bush, skittering across the jagged dirt.

​Mama Ghoula reached up with two elongated fingers, gripped the hilt of the knife in her neck, and pulled it out slowly. Black, oily blood oozed from the wound before the flesh knitted itself back together in seconds, completely unblemished.

​She brought the blade to her mouth and licked her own black blood off the metal.

​“You thought this fragile, pathetic spare could end me?” She sneered down at James, staring at him like a broken dog attempting to crawl.

​James spat blood, pushing himself onto one knee, his body trembling from the tear in his chest.

​“I never thought that one would,” James muttered, his lips curling into a dark, ruthless grin. “It was just a decoy.”

​He slid his left hand behind his leather jacket and drew the real bone-handled dagger—the ancient relic Luna had actually carried.

​The moment Mama Ghoula saw the true blade, her predatory demeanor shattered. The ancient runes carved into the bone burned with a faint, crimson light.

​“HAAAAAAAH-HUH-AHHHHHHH-AAAAAAA!”

​The witch threw her head back, unhinging her jaw to release a ear-splitting, supersonic shriek that tore through the trees, shattering the bark on nearby trunks.

​James shielded his ears, gritting his teeth through the agony. “What’s with the fucking noise, bitch? Afraid of dying?!”

​He didn't realize she wasn't screaming in fear. She was calling her army. Every possessed soul trapped in the jungle was rushing toward her call.

​“Your time is up!” Mama Ghoula snarled, dropping to all fours. “Your soul belongs to me! I shall crush your bones to dust!”

​“Ah, fuck off,” James whispered. “Let’s just end this.”

​James charged, launching himself into the air, driving the ancient blade downward with all his body weight.

​But Mama Ghoula didn't move like a human.

​Before James could complete his descent, she contorted her limbs, sliding beneath his attack with terrifying speed. She scaled his body while he was still airborne, her talons tearing into his skin. She clamped her legs around his throat, twisting her weight, and slammed James face-first into the unforgiving dirt.

​The knife slipped from his hand, tumbling away into the dark weeds.

​Mama Ghoula lifted James off the ground by his neck with a single arm. Blood poured from his broken nose and forehead, obscuring his vision.

​She pulled his face inches from her gaping maw, her breath smelling of rotting meat and centuries of decay.

​“Any last words?” she rasped, opening her jaw wide enough to swallow his skull whole.

​James’s swollen eyes met hers. Through the blood in his mouth, he managed a faint, bloody smile.

​“Go to hell.”

​From behind his back, his fingers had already closed around the hilt of the knife. He drove the ancient bone dagger straight into her chest, sinking it up to the guard, directly into her black, dead heart.

​“HAAAAAAA-HUH!” Mama Ghoula shrieked in agony.

​Before she could throw him, James slammed his hand firmly over her bloody mouth, muffling her screams as he gritted his teeth, yanking the knife free to drive it in a second time.

​“Time for you to go back to your grave,” James growled, his voice deathly cold. “Sleep in the endless night, bitch—”

​Suddenly, Mama Ghoula’s black eyes flared with a blinding, terrifying light. Her gaze pierced straight into James’s subconscious.

​Time stopped.

​The jungle faded away, replaced by flashes of violent memories James had buried deep inside his mind.

​He saw his father kneeling in a pool of blood, a blade driven through his heart by a cold, merciless man named Arthur. He saw his mother crying out, brutalized and abandoned to die on a desolate roadside. He saw the glowing, ancient stone—and how a man named Tidder had wielded its power, and how James himself was destined to claim it.

​The vision snapped back to reality.

​Mama Ghoula was still holding James by the neck, but her hand was trembling. The dagger in her chest was draining her dark power, yet she stared at James not with hatred, but with profound, terrifying awe.

​“I see everything…” her voice echoed, no longer angry, but heavy with prophecy. “Your purpose… your bloodline. Shall I show you the truth of your past?!”

​Her hand snapped up, touching James's forehead.

​A flood of agonizing revelations forced their way into James’s mind. He saw the exact details of his father's murder by Arthur's hand. He saw the absolute brutality of his mother's final moments on that dirt road—truths he had been lied to about his entire life.

​Mama Ghoula released her grip on his neck, letting James collapse to the mud.

​“You have much to fulfill,” the witch whispered, her body slowly beginning to dissolve into black ash as the knife’s curse took hold. “You must not die until your time comes… and when it comes, you shall never die. Find your sister. Find the stone before she inherits its power.”

​James stood up slowly on shaking legs, staring down at the dying creature as he let the bloody knife drop to the dirt.

​Around them, a violent storm erupted. The wind howled through the canopy, carrying with it the frantic, heavy footsteps of hundreds of possessed, hollow-eyed husks sprinting through the darkness toward the clearing.

​“RUN!” Mama Ghoula’s fading voice echoed from every direction at once. “When the time comes, you will return to me! I am the only one who can save you… EVEN IN DEATH!”

​James didn't look back. He turned and sprinted blindly into the dark forest, his lungs burning, his chest bleeding heavily.

​Through the roaring wind and crashing branches, a familiar voice shouted through the trees—

​“James! James!”

​James skidded to a halt, turning toward the sound. “Todd?! Todd, where the fuck are you?!”

​A figure burst out of the thick brush—Todd, terrified, panting, covered in mud and scratches.

​“We have to run!” Todd screamed, grabbing James’s arm. “They’re coming, James! All of them! The whole jungle is moving!”

​Without another word, the two men sprinted side-by-side, driven by pure survival instinct, fleeing the howling nightmare behind them.

​Twenty-four hours later, night fell over the city.

​James and Todd made it out of the wilderness, battered, bleeding, and alive, finally reaching the safety of their home.

​They stood in the quiet room, listening to the peaceful sounds of civilization outside, pretending the nightmare was over.

​But deep down, both men knew the truth.

​They had left them all behind in the darkness.

​Anna. Clara. Luna. Rune. Calix. Sirius.

​Dead or possessed, their bodies remained in that cursed jungle. And one day… they would all come back for James and Todd.

The Lesson:

Greed will make you step into a dark place, but pride will make sure you never leave it. In a jungle driven by ancient hunger, the most dangerous monster isn't the witch in the trees—it is the person standing right beside you, willing to trade your life for their survival.

To the Reader:

*Never mistake surviving a nightmare for winning. James and Todd thought they escaped the darkness the moment they stepped out of the tree line. But some places don't just take your friends—they take a piece of your soul, mark your blood, and follow you home.

​When you take something that belongs to the dead, you don't get to choose when the debt is settled. You only get to wait in the dark until they come to collect.*

*There are two types of people who enter a dark forest: those who fear what is hiding in the shadows, and those who become it.

​Rune broke because he had a heart. Luna burned because she had greed. But James survived because he was willing to become colder than the evil hunting him. The true tragedy of survival isn't dying in the dark—it's realizing what you had to transform into just to see the sun again.*