Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Summer of 1986

The road to Camp Nightshade was long, winding, and lined with trees that seemed too tall for comfort. The way the branches arched over the road, filtering the late summer sun, gave everything a strange, green-tinted glow — like they were driving straight into another world.

Mike leaned his head against the window of the Sunnyvale bus, watching the trees blur by. His hand rested lightly on top of El’s, their fingers loosely intertwined on the seat between them. She had her eyes closed, earbuds in, mouthing the words to some dreamy song he couldn’t hear. The way her head rested on his shoulder looked picture-perfect — but Mike felt restless. Like something wasn’t sitting right.

Across the aisle, Dustin was in the middle of explaining to Lucas how he packed an emergency kit with flashlights, bug spray, and what he claimed was a “homemade demon repellent.”

“Just in case the camp is actually cursed,” Dustin said seriously.

Lucas rolled his eyes. “It’s a camp. Not a haunted mansion.”

“You don’t know that,” Dustin argued. “Shadyside is involved. Their town practically bleeds bad luck.”

“El doesn’t think it’s cursed,” Suzie added, smiling as she braided her long hair. “She says there’s no such thing as fate — only choices.”

Mike glanced at El, but she didn’t react. Her foot tapped along to the music in her ears, detached from the conversation.

Outside, a wooden sign flashed past: WELCOME TO CAMP NIGHTSHADE.

The bus lurched to a stop. The door groaned open. And the moment they stepped out, the heat hit like a wall — thick, sticky, and unforgiving.

Camp Nightshade wasn’t impressive. The cabins looked old and half-rotted, and the air smelled like pine needles and something moldy. The lake shimmered in the distance, framed by hills and forests that felt… off.

On the far side of the clearing, another bus had just arrived.

A Shadyside bus.

Max was the first to jump out, snapping her gum and glaring around like she expected to be attacked. She wore ripped jeans, a red tank top, and a denim vest covered in buttons that said things like BITE ME and HELL IS EMPTY.

Will stepped out behind her, dragging a duffel bag almost as big as he was. His posture was small, shoulders hunched, like he was trying not to take up space. A flannel shirt hung loose on his thin frame, and his dark eyes flicked over the Sunnyvale crowd — landing on one boy in particular.

Michael Wheeler.

Will had only ever seen him from across the gym during inter-school events. Mike was always surrounded by people. Tall, loud, confident. Now, in person and up close, he was somehow even worse — all sharp cheekbones and too-long limbs, his hair a mess in the best way.

Will’s heart did something painful and stupid in his chest.

“Stop staring,” Max whispered, bumping her shoulder against his. “You look like a lovesick puppy.”

Will flushed and looked down at his shoes. “I wasn’t.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, clearly not believing him.

From the middle of the camp, a whistle blew. A tall guy in an old counselor uniform stepped onto the lodge porch, hands on hips. His nametag read: STEVE.

“Alright, let’s move it!” he called. “Sunnyvale to the left, Shadyside to the right! I want everyone in the circle before I start explaining the ‘fun team bonding exercises’ the town council forced us to plan!”

Mike and El moved toward the left. Dustin, Lucas, and Suzie followed, grumbling. Max and Will shuffled to the right, joining a much smaller group of Shadyside kids — most of whom already looked annoyed, bored, or both.

“Can’t believe they’re making us share cabins with Sunnyvalers,” Max muttered.

Will wasn’t listening. He was watching Mike.

Mike was watching him back.

It was quick. Barely a second. But Will felt it like static in his chest — the weight of being noticed, even if it was just curiosity. Even if it meant nothing.

He looked away first.

“Alright, campers!” Steve clapped his hands. “Here’s the deal. You’re all going to be bunking with kids from the opposite town. Shocking, I know. But the camp wants you to ‘bond’ and ‘heal community trauma’ or whatever. That means mixed cabins, mixed teams, and — yes — shared chores.”

There was a collective groan.

“Cabin assignments are on the bulletin board. Don’t fight me on this. If you have allergies, a criminal record, or an actual demon haunting you, let me know before the first campfire.”

“Did he say demon?” Lucas whispered to Dustin.

Dustin grinned. “Told you.”

As the crowd dispersed toward the assignments, Max grabbed Will’s arm.

“I swear,” she said, “if they stick me with one of those Sunnyvale cheerleaders, I’ll fake my own death and live in the woods.”

Will walked slowly toward the board. Names were scrawled in uneven handwriting. His eyes skimmed the list, nerves crawling up his throat.

And then he saw it.

CABIN 6
• Wheeler, Michael
• Byers, William

His stomach dropped.

“Oh no.”

Max peeked. “No way.”

“Yep,” Will whispered. “It’s me and… him.”

Max grinned. “Congratulations. You get to bunk with your crush.”

“It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

Will sighed. “I’m going to die.”

“You’ll be fine. Just try not to faint when he takes his shirt off.”

Will buried his face in his hands.

⸻

Cabin 6 was at the edge of the woods. It looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years — the windows were dusty, and the floor creaked with every step.

Mike arrived first, tossing his bag onto one of the beds like he owned the place. Will hesitated in the doorway.

Mike looked up, startled. “Oh — hey. Will, right?”

Will blinked. “Yeah.”

“Guess we’re roommates,” Mike said, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve seen you around before. You’re friends with Max?”

Will nodded, unsure how to make his voice work.

Mike smiled — and it was soft. Unpracticed. Like maybe he didn’t smile that way around Sunnyvalers. “She’s cool. Intense, but cool.”

Will set his bag down slowly, trying to pretend he didn’t feel like melting into the floor. “She’s kind of my only friend.”

Mike tilted his head. “That sucks. You seem… cool.”

Will looked away. His face was burning. He hated this.

Mike dropped onto his bed with a heavy sigh, arms spread out like a starfish. “God, it’s so hot in here. If I die of heatstroke, tell El I love her.”

Will managed a tight smile. “Sure.”

“Anyway,” Mike said, pushing himself up and reaching for his jacket, “I should probably go check on the others. Dustin’s probably built a bunker or something by now.”

He paused at the door. “You good here?”

Will nodded quickly. “Yeah. Fine. Go ahead.”

Mike gave him a small wave, then left, whistling softly as the screen door creaked shut behind him.

And just like that, Will was alone.

He sat on the edge of the bed for a long moment, staring at the wood-paneled wall. The silence crept in around him like fog. Distant crickets chirped, and somewhere far off, a loon cried out over the lake.

The room felt too quiet without Mike’s voice in it.

Will lay back on the mattress, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the ceiling fan that barely turned. Sweat clung to his forehead. He tried to ignore the way his stomach twisted.

It was nothing. Just a weird old camp. A weird, broken-down, probably-moldy cabin. He’d been in worse places.

Still, when a floorboard creaked just outside the door, Will shot up like he’d been shocked.

He held his breath, listening.

Another creak.

Then silence.

His heart pounded.

“Hello?” he called out, voice tight.

No answer.

Will slid off the bed and padded to the door. He hesitated, hand on the knob.

Then—

BANG.

A sharp knock, right against the wood. Fast. Loud.

Will stumbled back with a gasp.

“Jesus—!”

The door burst open.

Max stood there, arms crossed, chewing gum with a raised eyebrow.

“You look like you saw a ghost,” she said.

Will exhaled shakily, hand over his chest. “What the hell, Max—”

“I knocked!”

“You slammed!”

She shrugged. “I was testing your reflexes.”

Will sat down hard on the bed, still catching his breath. “Well. They work.”

Max stepped inside and let the door shut behind her. “You alone?”

“Mike left to hang out with El and the others.”

“Of course he did.”

She looked around the room like she expected to find spiders or a murder weapon. “This place sucks. I already miss my gross little bedroom.”

Will didn’t answer.

Max sat next to him, shoulder to shoulder. For a while, they said nothing. Just listened to the bugs screaming outside and the fan clicking overhead.

“You okay?” she asked, finally.

Will shrugged. “Just nervous.”

“About camp?”

“About everything.”

Max leaned back on her hands. “I’ve got a knife in my boot if that helps.”

Will smiled despite himself. “It does. A little.”

There was another noise then — something in the trees. Far off. Something not-animal again. But Max didn’t flinch.

She just looked out the window and whispered, “This place has bad vibes.”

Will didn’t disagree.

But sitting there beside her, in the warm hush of Cabin 6, he felt… less alone.

Chapter Text

The sun rose sluggishly over Camp Nightshade, washing the cabins in a golden, hazy glow. The trees still looked too tall, the lake still too still, like it was holding its breath.

Will didn’t sleep much.

He’d lain in his bunk long after Mike had returned from wherever he’d gone, pretending to be asleep as Mike tossed off his shoes and quietly collapsed onto the mattress. Will had listened to the sound of Mike’s breathing for what felt like hours. Even now, he remembered the smell of woodsmoke clinging to Mike’s shirt, the way the door creaked when he entered, and how the air shifted when he left again at dawn.

Now, Will stood barefoot in the dewy grass outside Cabin 6, waiting for Max to emerge from hers.

When she did, hair a mess and face unimpressed, she muttered, “If we have to do some forced group hug crap this morning, I’m setting something on fire.”

Will offered her a small smile. “You’d go down as a legend.”

“Please. I already am.”

⸻

“Team-building,” Steve Harrington announced like it was a death sentence. “You know it. You hate it. Let’s get it over with.”

Behind him, Robin squinted through a clipboard and snorted. “We’ve got Two Truths and a Lie, human knots, and my personal favorite — dodging responsibility.”

The Sunnyvalers and Shadysiders stood awkwardly in a wide circle under the trees. The divide was still visible. Sunnyvalers wore brighter clothes, cleaner sneakers. Shadysiders stood rough-edged and defensive, arms crossed.

Will stood with Max near the back, already feeling watched. Or maybe he was imagining it.

He risked a glance toward the Sunnyvalers — toward Mike. And sure enough, Mike was looking at him again.

Will’s face flushed as he quickly looked away.

“Alright,” Robin said, stepping forward. “Let’s warm up with Two Truths and a Lie. Try not to lie about felonies.”

They went around the circle. Lucas admitted he’d once scored three baskets in a row at a championship game. Suzie confessed she wrote romantic fanmail to Einstein before she realized he was dead. Dustin said he invented a mechanical cat.

Most of the Shadysiders gave up halfway or rolled their eyes. When Max went, she said:

“I’ve punched a cop. I’ve shoplifted. And I like Sunnyvalers.”

No one guessed wrong.

Then it was Will’s turn.

He hesitated. He could feel Mike watching him again. Everyone watching him.

“Um,” he said. “I’ve been in the hospital five times. I play the piano. And I once ate a spider.”

There was a beat.

Lucas wrinkled his nose. “Please tell me the spider is the lie.”

Will gave a sheepish shrug. “Piano.”

“You actually ate a spider?” Suzie gasped.

“It was in a peanut butter sandwich!” Will protested.

Laughter bubbled around the circle. Even the Sunnyvalers cracked up. And for a moment, Will felt light. Seen — but not in a bad way.

When he looked up, Mike was smiling at him.

El, beside him, wasn’t.

⸻

The sun was climbing fast now, baking the open grass with sticky heat. Campers had already migrated toward the lake, splashing and floating on neon inner tubes. Somewhere, a radio played Blondie.

Max and Will sat on the dock, legs dangling into the cool water.

“I hate it here,” Max muttered, sipping from a thermos she’d stolen from the mess hall. “It smells like wet socks and repressed trauma.”

Will smiled. “You’re not wrong.”

“Steve tried to teach me how to fish. I threw the rod at him.”

“Did it hit?”

“Almost.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. The water lapped gently below them. Nearby, a group of Sunnyvalers played volleyball in the sand. Mike was with them, shirt off, laughing with Dustin and Lucas. El sat in a shaded lounge chair, flipping through a book — but her eyes kept drifting toward the dock.

Will pulled his knees up to his chest. “I hate this,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Feeling like I’m not supposed to exist.”

Max turned. “You’re allowed to have a crush, Byers.”

“He has a girlfriend.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Not a crime.”

Will’s voice dropped. “It’s Sunnyvale.”

Max was quiet for a long moment. “You know what sucks?” she finally said. “Being made to feel small before you even open your mouth.”

Will looked at her.

“I get it,” she said. “I do.”

And Will believed her.

⸻

The counselors lit the bonfire just as the sun dipped behind the treetops, bathing the forest in twilight. Smoke curled up into the orange sky. Campers gathered on logs around the pit, sticks in hand, marshmallows already burning black.

“Story time!” Steve called out, arms wide.

Dustin perked up instantly. “Yes! Finally!”

Will and Max sat close to the edge, just behind a row of older Shadyside girls trading cigarettes and side-eyes.

Robin stepped forward, her expression serious this time.

“Tonight’s story isn’t a game,” she said. “It’s something the counselors usually avoid telling… but this camp has a history.”

The fire cracked loudly. Sparks flew.

“Camp Nightwing, 1978.” Robin’s voice dropped. “Right here. These cabins. This lake. This very fire pit. Fifty years ago.”

Will leaned forward, heart thumping.

“There was a massacre. A Shadyside kid — a quiet one, weird, bullied a lot — snapped. One night, he took an axe and—”

“Robin,” Steve warned.

“—and killed nine campers,” she finished flatly. “He wore a sack on his head. Covered in blood. Chased people into the woods.”

Campers murmured. A few laughed nervously.

“They say it wasn’t just a breakdown,” Robin went on. “They say he was possessed. By something that lives in the ground. Something that chooses kids from Shadyside. Turns them into monsters.”

Max’s body went tense beside Will.

“Some say it’s a witch — Sarah Fier. Cursed after her execution. And now every few years, she picks someone. Someone quiet. Someone hurting. And she makes them bleed.”

A breeze swept through the trees, making the fire flicker.

Will’s skin went cold.

Across the fire, Mike was staring at him.

Not cruelly. Not mockingly. Just… staring.

El touched his arm, breaking the moment.

Will looked down.

⸻

The room was dim and quiet when Mike returned. Will was sitting up in bed, a sketchbook in his lap. He quickly flipped the page.

Mike dropped onto his bunk with a sigh. “That story was insane.”

Will didn’t answer.

“You believe it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Max was really quiet after.”

“She remembers stuff like that.”

Mike leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Hey. You okay?”

Will nodded, not trusting his voice.

Mike hesitated. “Tomorrow — we’re going down to the lake again. You should come.”

Will blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah.” Mike smiled. “You. And bring Max. She’s cool.”

Will’s heart skipped.

“Really?”

Mike nodded. “You guys don’t have to stay on the edges, you know. You’re allowed to be part of it.”

For a second, Will felt like breathing was easier.

“Okay,” he said softly. “Thanks.”

Mike stood, stretched, and gave him one last look before climbing into bed. “Night, Byers.”

Will whispered, “Night.”

But he didn’t sleep for a long time.

Chapter Text

Will’s dreams were always strange. But tonight, they felt wrong.

In the dream, he was back at the campfire, but the flames were cold. Everyone sat frozen, their eyes glowing white. Robin’s voice echoed through the trees, whispering the same name again and again.

“Sarah Fier… Sarah Fier… Sarah Fier…”

Then he was alone. Surrounded by woods. The trees bent toward him like they wanted to swallow him whole.

A figure stood in the distance — sack over his head, axe in his hand.

Will turned to run—

—and woke up gasping.

His heart hammered against his ribs. Sweat clung to his back like a second shirt. The shadows in the cabin loomed longer than they should have. Mike’s silhouette was asleep in the opposite bed, blanket tangled around his legs, softly snoring.

Will sat up slowly, trying not to make a sound.

He reached for his sketchbook and flipped to a blank page, pencil trembling in his fingers. He started to draw — lines, trees, the shape of a figure far away. The axe. The mask.

The hands.

Something about them looked too familiar.

⸻

It wasn’t breakfast that woke the camp — it was the screaming.

A girl’s voice, high and frantic, echoed through the pine trees. Campers spilled out of cabins, half-dressed and still yawning.

Max and Will reached the mess hall at the same time as Mike, El, Lucas, and Dustin. Steve and Robin were already there, trying to calm a girl in a green tank top who was sobbing into her hands.

“What’s going on?” Max asked, pushing forward.

“Someone’s missing,” Robin said grimly. “A camper.”

The crowd stilled. Jokes died on lips.

“Who?” Lucas asked.

The girl sobbed harder. “Nikki. Nikki Jansen. She’s—she’s not in our cabin—her bed was still made—her stuff is all there—she’s gone!”

Dustin looked pale. “That’s the girl who dared someone to jump in the lake yesterday, right?”

“Yeah,” Mike said slowly. “Shadyside. Same age as Max.”

Will felt a chill crawl up his spine.

Steve clapped his hands. “Alright, listen up. This is probably nothing, okay? Maybe she wandered to the lake early, maybe she went on a hike, maybe she’s playing some kind of dumb prank. We’re organizing a search party, but for now — no one goes anywhere alone.”

Robin nodded. “You stay in pairs, you stick to the main paths, and you don’t go into the woods.”

“Why not the woods?” Suzie asked, clutching Dustin’s hand.

Robin glanced at Steve, then at Will. “Because this place has a history.”

⸻

Will sat on a rock, watching the lake lap quietly at the shore. The stillness felt off. Too silent. Like the camp was holding its breath again.

Max approached, tossing him an apple. “Eat. You look like a sad ghost.”

Will took it without a word.

“She’s not the kind of girl to just go off somewhere,” Max muttered. “Nikki. She’s loud. Drama queen. She likes attention, yeah — but disappearing? She wouldn’t.”

“You think something happened?” Will asked.

Max looked him straight in the eye. “I think something’s happening. And we’re the ones it’s happening to.”

Will looked down at his shoes. “I had a dream last night. About the guy from the story. The axe.”

Max went still. “You think it’s starting again?”

“I don’t know.”

She sat beside him, elbows on her knees. “If something is happening… we need to be smart. Sunnyvale kids won’t believe us. You know that.”

Will glanced toward the volleyball court where Mike and his friends had gathered, trying to act like things were normal. El stood at Mike’s side, arms crossed, her eyes once again flicking toward Will and Max.

“She doesn’t like me,” Will said quietly.

“She knows,” Max replied, just as quiet.

Will looked at her, alarmed. “What do you mean?”

“She knows you look at him,” Max said, not unkindly. “She’s not stupid.”

Will dropped his head. “I’m not trying to—”

“I know. Doesn’t mean she won’t do something.”

Will swallowed hard.

⸻

Around noon, small groups were sent out to search nearby trails. Will was assigned with Mike and Dustin, while Max ended up with Robin and El.

“I don’t get it,” Mike said, brushing branches aside. “Why would someone leave their cabin in the middle of the night with no shoes?”

Dustin checked his compass. “This trail loops toward the south end of the lake. Maybe she got lost.”

Will trudged behind them, eyes scanning the woods. Every shadow looked alive.

Mike slowed his steps to match Will’s. “You okay?”

Will nodded, but he didn’t speak.

“Max said you had a weird night.”

Will blinked. “She told you?”

“She said you looked pale and you drew something creepy.”

Will hesitated. “It was just a dream.”

Mike tilted his head. “Like… what kind of dream?”

Will didn’t answer.

They walked in silence for a while. Birds called high in the trees. The forest creaked around them.

Finally, Mike said, “I’ve had bad dreams too. After… stuff.”

Will glanced at him.

“Sometimes it helps to talk about it,” Mike said, offering a tiny smile.

Will felt his stomach turn. The way Mike looked at him — it wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t mocking. It was… genuine.

But it hurt more because of that.

“You don’t have to pretend to care,” Will muttered.

Mike blinked. “What?”

“I know I don’t belong here.”

Mike stopped walking.

Will kept going.

“I know you’re just being nice because Max made you—”

“Will,” Mike said, voice firm.

Will froze.

Mike stepped closer, not touching him but looking straight into his eyes. “I do care. I didn’t ask you to hang out yesterday because of Max. I asked because… I wanted to.”

Will felt something in his chest go warm and cold all at once.

Before he could answer, Dustin called out, “Guys! Over here!”

They rushed to him.

He stood at the edge of a small clearing. In the center: a muddy shoe. Small. Torn.

And on the nearby tree, smeared faintly in red:

1978

⸻

No one laughed that evening. No one told stories. No one roasted marshmallows.

The counselors canceled all night activities. Everyone was told to stay close to their cabins. Nikki was still missing. The search party had come back empty-handed — except for the shoe, which now sat in the locked supply room while the police were being contacted.

Will sat beside Max on the cabin steps, wrapped in a blanket. She didn’t say much. She just kept watch.

Mike came by as the sun set, hands in his pockets.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “You guys okay?”

Will nodded.

Mike glanced at Max. “You should both come hang out with us tomorrow. At the dock.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Us?”

Mike smiled faintly. “Yeah. I mean, I figure you won’t come unless he does.”

Will looked between them.

“You don’t have to,” Mike added. “But I’d like it.”

Max looked at Will. “What do you think?”

Will felt something strange flutter in his chest. Hope, maybe. Or doom.

He smiled. “Okay.”

Chapter Text

Camp Nightshade was quiet—but not in the peaceful, summer kind of way.

It was the kind of quiet that made people speak in low voices, walk in pairs, and look over their shoulders without admitting they were scared. Nikki Jansen’s disappearance had left a mark, even if no one was saying it out loud. The counselors had tried to spin it as a “maybe she snuck off” situation. But everyone knew the truth.

Girls didn’t vanish with their shoes still by their bed.

“Camp’s cursed,” someone whispered on the trail that morning.

Will didn’t disagree.

He hadn’t slept. Every time he drifted off, he’d see flashes of trees and a girl running barefoot through the dark. Every time he woke, he expected someone to be standing at the foot of his bed. His shirt still clung to him with sweat, and his hands were shaky when he buttoned it wrong the first time.

Outside, Max was waiting by the cabin stairs, one foot tapping.

“We’re still going, right?” she asked, tossing him an apple. “I don’t care if the camp’s haunted. I need to touch grass and make El uncomfortable.”

Will hesitated, fingers tight around the apple. “You really think it’s a good idea?”

“I think if we stay in the cabin all day, we’re going to drive ourselves insane.”

He smiled faintly. “Okay.”

Max bumped his arm. “And maybe a certain tall, floppy-haired Sunnyvale boy will blush again when he sees you.”

Will rolled his eyes, but his face flushed.

⸻

Down by the lake, the group was already gathered. Lucas was shirtless and knee-deep in the water, splashing Dustin, who was screaming about ruined socks. Suzie sat on the edge of the dock scribbling in a tiny notebook. Mike stood with them, towel around his neck, eyes flicking toward the woods every so often like he was trying to look relaxed and failing.

El was on the opposite end of the dock, legs crossed, arms folded. She hadn’t gone near the water. She hadn’t smiled once.

When Will and Max arrived, Lucas waved instantly. “Max! Thought you were skipping out on us.”

“Please,” she said, dropping her backpack, “like I’d miss out on watching you flail around.”

Lucas grinned and held up a soggy high-five. She actually gave him one.

Will stayed a few steps behind, his arms wrapped around himself. He scanned the group cautiously, half-expecting something to jump from the lake.

Mike noticed.

He jogged up, slowing as he reached him. “Hey.”

Will glanced up. “Hi.”

“You came.”

“You invited me.”

Mike smiled, almost like he hadn’t expected Will to show. “Right.”

Then El approached. “Will,” she said, her tone flat.

Will nodded. “Hey.”

“You look pale,” she said, staring too hard.

“I didn’t sleep.”

Max stepped forward, eyes sharp. “Maybe if people weren’t vanishing in the night, we’d all be getting our beauty rest.”

El ignored her completely.

Mike looked between them awkwardly. “We were gonna go down to the swim platform if you guys wanted to come.”

“Cool,” Lucas said, already wading out with Max behind him.

Will stepped forward, about to follow—when he heard it.

“Will…”

He froze.

It had come from the woods.

A whisper, soft and stretched, like it didn’t quite belong in the air.

“Will?”

He turned sharply. Trees. Only trees.

Mike noticed his expression. “You okay?”

Will blinked. “Thought I heard something.”

⸻

The afternoon dragged in that way only anxious days could. Max and Lucas talked nonstop, teasing and splashing and almost pretending nothing was wrong. El stayed on the dock, watching everything like a judge. Will kept hearing things — little things: branches rustling, a breath too close, his name like wind through pine needles.

When the group packed up to head back, Max reached out and grabbed Will’s hand like it was nothing. Their fingers laced naturally, easy and warm.

“You good?” she asked, noticing how quiet he was.

Will hesitated. “Yeah… just don’t feel great.”

Max narrowed her eyes. “Headache?”

“Something like that.”

Behind them, someone snorted. A whisper followed:
“Are they, like… together now?”

Mike heard it.

He didn’t say anything.

But his jaw clenched, and he didn’t walk next to El the rest of the way back.

———

Will lay curled on his side in the dark. The cabin creaked, a branch tapped gently against the outside wall, and Mike’s steady breathing came from the other bunk, slow and even.

But Will’s sleep was not peaceful.

His eyes fluttered beneath closed lids. His hands twitched. His mouth moved, silent whispers slipping between his lips like smoke.

Then his body moved.

He sat up. Stood. Walked.

Barefoot. Quiet.

Straight out the door and into the woods.

⸻

He woke to the smell of rot and smoke.

The ground beneath him was cold, muddy. He was barefoot. His flannel was soaked from dew and something darker.

Will stood slowly, heart pounding.

He was in the woods.

Not near camp.

Not even near the lake.

He turned in a slow circle — and then saw it.

A crumbled foundation of stones and twisted roots. A burned-out shell of a house that looked like it had never belonged to any time or place.

The Witch’s House.

Will backed away fast. “No, no, no…”

Then the pain hit.

A sharp, stabbing pulse behind his eyes. His nose gushed blood.

He fell to his knees.

Visions slammed into him — fast, flashing, unstoppable.

A girl in white, screaming as she’s dragged through dirt.
Blood in a circle.
Hands bound.
Eyes carved from wood.
The name scratched over and over on stone: SARAH FIER.

He clutched his head, sobbing.

Then everything stopped.

The woods were silent.

He stood, shaking, dizzy, vision blurred.

And then — he saw her.

Nikki.

What was left of her.

Slumped against a tree. Arms slashed. Shirt soaked red. Eyes wide open but seeing nothing.

Will screamed — loud and raw and real.

And the woods didn’t echo it back.