The forest felt less mysterious in the daylight—almost peaceful. Sunlight filtered through the high canopy in golden streaks, painting the trail in flickering patterns. Students were scattered about in twos and threes, exploring the marked paths, snapping pictures, and scribbling quick notes into their journals.
Noah and Lumi trailed down one of the lesser-taken routes, walking quietly at first. The path was tight, with trees crowding close, roots snaking beneath their feet like sleeping veins. They stepped around puddles left by last night's mist, the smell of damp wood hanging in the air.
"This is so cool," Lumi said, clutching her camera like treasure. "Look at all this! I feel like we're on one of those documentary shows."
Noah chuckled half-heartedly but kept glancing at the surroundings. The deeper they went, the more he noticed the odd hush—no birdsong, no rustle of small animals.
Then they saw it.
Just ahead, half-hidden between thick roots and climbing vines, stood a tree. Not particularly tall or wide, but… strange.
Its bark was warped and knotted, the curves of the wood shaping into what could only be described as a human face. Hollow eye sockets, a protruding nose-like bulge, and a crooked, stretched mouth twisted in a silent expression of unease.
Lumi gasped. "Oh, that's going straight to my weird album!"
She darted ahead to snap photos from every angle, clearly thrilled. Noah, however, stared with suspicion.
There was something about the face. Something that made it feel less like a trick of the wood and more like a memory carved into the tree itself.
"We should go back," he said at last, watching the shadows stretch longer than they should. "We've already wandered too far."
Lumi pouted, "Fine, forest ranger," and tucked her camera back into its pouch.
Together, they turned and retraced their steps, unaware that behind them, the "face" on the tree seemed to smirk.
---
Meanwhile...
Ezra narrowed her eyes toward the eastern trail where Noah and Lumi had disappeared nearly ten minutes ago. She hadn't planned to keep track of him—but something about that girl rubbed her the wrong way.
Shrugging off her irritation, she turned and walked along the nearby clearing. Her classmates were giggling and chasing bugs with their phones, the teachers too busy to notice anything odd.
That's when she saw them.
A pair of glasses—round, silver-rimmed—lying in the grass beneath a thin tree. She slowed down, frowning. They looked expensive… definitely adult-sized. She knelt and picked them up carefully.
She glanced around. None of the teachers wore these. Especially not—
Her head throbbed, a quick spike of pain behind her eyes.
"Where's Mr. Harrison?" she whispered.
There was a pause. The wind died down.
Then a voice behind her spoke smoothly, "Who is Mr. Harrison?"
Ezra spun around.
Standing behind her was Headteacher Mrs. Marlowe, her piercing green eyes glowing faintly beneath the sun's shadow. There was something off in her expression—too calm, too curious. The way she tilted her head felt more like a predator sizing up its prey than a teacher concerned about her student.
Ezra instinctively hid the glasses behind her back. Her mouth went dry.
The woman's lips curled into a too-gentle smile. "Are you feeling alright, Ezra?"
The trees around them seemed to lean in slightly.
Ezra gripped the glasses tighter, her heart pounding.
Something was wrong.