The village of Brackenwood had one rule:
Never enter the eastern forest after sundown.
Tourists laughed at the warning, believing it to be another rural superstition. But the villagers never laughed. Especially not after what happened to the four hikers last autumn.
The Forbidden Path
Mara, Dylan, Rose, and Joel were thrill-seekers. They traveled to remote places for “real adventure,” and the legends surrounding Brackenwood fascinated them.
When they heard about the abandoned temple deep inside the eastern woods — a place dedicated to an unnamed ancient god — they knew they had to see it.
The forest was unnaturally silent as they entered. No birds, no wind, not even the crunch of leaves after a few steps. It felt like the forest was listening.
“Creepy as hell,” Dylan muttered.
“Perfect,” Mara smiled.
They walked deeper until they reached a clearing, where an enormous stone idol stood beneath twisted branches. Moss covered its cracked face. Its eyes were hollow pits, open as if waiting.
Rose frowned. “It looks… sad.”
Joel laughed. “It looks dead.”
But the forest didn’t agree.
A cold gust swept through the clearing, whispering in a language none of them understood. The trees creaked as if bowing toward the idol.
Mara stepped closer. “Let’s get some pictures—”
The ground trembled.
A low rumble came from beneath the idol.
Then — a heartbeat.
The forest had awakened.
The First Night
Back at their cabin, none of them slept well.
Mara dreamt of vines crawling across her skin.
Dylan saw the idol’s eyes glowing green.
Rose heard whispering outside her window.
Joel woke to find dirt under his nails — and he had no memory of leaving his bed.
In the morning, Rose found something carved into the cabin door:
YOU TOUCHED WHAT WAS MINE.
Dylan tried to cover his fear with sarcasm.
“Maybe the villagers are messing with us.”
But when they went outside, they saw footprints — not human — circling the cabin.
Large.
Clawed.
Three-toed.
Deep enough to crack the soil.
Joel whispered, “We need to go.”
They should have.
But by the time they tried, the forest had already closed in.
Taken One by One
Joel
Joel was the first to disappear.
He wandered into the trees early that afternoon, claiming he heard someone calling his name. Rose followed the sound — a deep, ancient voice echoing through the woods:
“Come back… come back to me…”
Minutes later, she found Joel’s backpack — torn in half — hanging from the branches 20 feet above her. It dripped with thick green sap.
Joel was never seen again.
Dylan
By evening, a fog rolled in so thick they could barely see each other. Dylan panicked and ran.
Mara and Rose heard him screaming from every direction. Echoes. Layers.
The forest was playing with them.
When the fog cleared, Dylan lay in the clearing where the idol had been — but the idol was now gone.
Vines were wrapped tightly around his body, pulling him slowly into the earth as he struggled to breathe. His eyes bulged in terror.
Rose ran forward, but the ground split open beneath Dylan — and he vanished into the soil as if swallowed whole.
Only his shoes remained on the surface.
Rose
Rose’s mind cracked after that.
She spoke to the trees. Apologized to the air.
She claimed the god was speaking to her — whispering its pain, its hunger, its abandonment.
“We forgot him,” she murmured.
“Humans left him behind… and now we must pay.”
That night, she willingly walked into the forest.
Mara saw from the cabin window as the vines wrapped around Rose’s arms lovingly, like a mother greeting a child.
Then the trees closed behind her, sealing her fate.
Mara’s Escape
Mara was the last.
Exhausted, terrified, alone — she ran.
Branches clawed at her. Roots rose to trip her.
Whispers grew louder:
“You woke me.”
“You touched me.”
“You belong to me now.”
She stumbled into the main road, bruised and bleeding. Villagers found her unconscious.
When she awoke in the infirmary, she screamed:
“It wasn’t a legend — it’s real! The god is real!”
They tried to calm her, but Mara pointed toward the window.
Across the field, the treeline shifted.
Not from wind…
but from something moving behind it.
Watching.
Waiting.
The villagers boarded up the windows that night.
But Mara knew none of it mattered.
Because the forgotten god had been awakened.
And it does not forget
who disturbed its sleep.
