They didn't speak for a long time after returning from the forest.
Mira sat cross-legged on her bed, sketchpad open but untouched. Luka leaned against the wall beside the window, headphones dangling from one hand like a forgotten lifeline. Eli paced the small apartment in tight circles, muttering threats under his breath—half aimed at them, half at himself for not stopping whatever this was before it had gone too far.
No one knew how long they'd been inside that version of Hollowbrook.
It could have been minutes.
It could have been hours.
But when Mira finally moved, she reached for her pencil with steady hands and began to draw again.
Luka watched her closely.
"What are you seeing now?" he asked quietly.
She didn't answer right away.
Instead, she flipped the pad around so he could see.
A woman stood at the center of the page, arms outstretched as if holding something back. Around her, figures blurred into shadow—one boy clutching a stuffed bear, another girl hiding behind a tree, a man standing frozen in the middle of the street. All of them silent.
And above them all, the sky cracked open like glass.
Luka swallowed hard. "That woman… She's the reason we ended up there, isn't she?"
Mira nodded once.
Then she pointed to her chest.
He blinked. "You think she's your mother?"
She hesitated—just slightly—before nodding again.
Eli stopped pacing. "Mira, listen to me." He crouched in front of her, voice low and urgent. "This isn't just about memories anymore. You saw those people. They're trapped . And that town—it's not real."
She met his gaze without fear.
Then she signed:
It's real enough for them.
Eli exhaled sharply. "That doesn't mean you belong there."
She looked down at the drawing again.
Then she added something new beneath the image.
A spiral.
Exactly like the one carved into the door.
Luka stiffened. "That symbol… It wasn't just marking the door, was it?"
Mira shook her head.
Then she tapped the edge of the page twice.
Confirmation.
He ran a hand through his hair. "So what does it mean?"
She drew again—quickly this time.
Two figures walking side by side through the woods. Behind them, echoes followed like shadows cast by unseen light.
At the bottom of the page, she wrote one word:
Listen.
The next morning, the town woke to yet another disappearance.
This time, it wasn't a child.
It was a priest.
Father Reyes had been found missing from the chapel, his robes still hanging neatly near the altar, the candle still burning where he'd left it.
No signs of struggle.
Only silence.
Eli read the news online while Mira stood by the window, sketchpad clutched tightly in both hands.
Luka arrived just after sunrise, eyes dark with exhaustion.
"I dreamed about her again," he said without preamble.
Mira turned to him immediately.
He continued, voice low. "The woman in red. She was in the old town, same as before—but this time, she wasn't alone. There was someone else with her. A boy. Younger than us. Maybe ten or eleven."
Mira flipped to a blank page and began drawing.
Within seconds, the image appeared—a boy with wide eyes and untied shoelaces, standing beside the woman. His mouth was open in a silent scream.
Luka stared at it. "That's him. That's the one who disappeared last night."
Mira nodded.
Then she tapped the edge of the page twice.
Luka exhaled sharply. "So they're taking people into that place."
She hesitated—then added a final line to the drawing.
A spiral.
Beneath the boy's feet.
He understood instantly.
"They don't vanish," he whispered. "They get pulled in."
Eli clenched his jaw. "Then we find a way to pull them back."
Mira looked at him.
Slowly, deliberately, she signed:
We go back inside.
Eli's stomach dropped.
"You're kidding, right?"
She shook her head.
Then she touched his arm gently.
And signed:
We're the only ones who can hear them.
That afternoon, they returned to the birch tree.
The door remained closed.
But this time, the roots pulsed strongly beneath their fingertips—as if waiting.
Mira reached for Luka's hand.
Then together, they placed their palms flat against the wood.
The world shifted.
Silence broke.
And the door opened once more.