Chapter three: The letter

The three girls sat in a tight circle around the chest, the flickering light of their flashlights casting long, eerie shadows across the room. The letter lay in front of them, its yellowed paper wrinkled and fragile as if it had been handled countless times over the years. The words were uneven, hastily written in ink that had begun to fade, but the message was clear enough to send an unsettling chill through their spines. As Sarah carefully read aloud, the others leaned in closer, their breaths held, each word making their unease grow stronger.

"Beware what lies within... the boundaries must not be broken... my beloved Karen, heed this warning." The first lines seemed simple enough, but there was a gravity to them that made the girls pause. The mention of boundaries, especially the idea of breaking them, made the air in the cabin feel thicker, more suffocating. Sarah's voice faltered slightly as she continued, her eyes scanning over the paper, trying to make sense of what the writer was trying to convey. "They came to me in the night, shadows in the form of men, their eyes hollow but filled with intent. I tried to hide, but the curse follows, as it always has, as it always will. My only hope is that Karen will never come—she cannot know what we've done." The words seemed to bleed into one another, as if the writer had been in a rush, trying to escape something or someone. It wasn't just a letter—it felt like a desperate plea, a last warning.

Shantel's brow furrowed as she took the paper from Sarah's hands, reading the lines again, her eyes moving rapidly as she processed the meaning. "This... this doesn't make sense. Who is Karen? Why does she need to be warned?" She looked up at Nova, who was biting her lip in thought, her eyes intense. "Do you think it's someone who lived here?" Nova asked, her voice laced with the same confusion that had settled over Shantel. "Maybe Karen was the original inhabitant, or someone close to the writer. But what about this curse? What does it mean that the boundaries mustn't be broken?" Nova leaned back, her fingers still tracing the edges of the letter, as if trying to pull some hidden meaning from its frail paper.

Sarah was quiet, her mind racing, piecing together fragments of thoughts. "The letter says the curse follows," she murmured, more to herself than to the others. "It's as if it's something that's been around for a long time, something that's been passed down or maybe something that has been triggered." Her voice was tight with realization, as if the pieces of a puzzle were slowly starting to click into place. "The boundaries... the boundaries must be broken..." Sarah repeated, her mind searching for an explanation.

Shantel's fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the paper again, rereading the lines that were already burned into her memory. "But what is this curse? Why does it need to be passed down? Why is this Karen so important?" She looked over at Sarah, her face pale with concern. "We can't ignore this. There's something deeper going on here, something we don't understand. If this 'Karen' person is involved in whatever happened here, maybe... maybe she's not just someone the writer was protecting. Maybe she's the key to everything. What if we're not meant to be here? What if coming here was a mistake?"

Nova's voice was quieter, but sharp. "But if we leave now, we'll never know. There's something here, something calling to us. We can't just walk away from it without understanding. Whatever this curse is, it's tied to this place. Maybe Karen is still connected to it somehow." Her eyes darkened as she spoke, her curiosity now overriding the sense of unease that had been creeping over her. "There has to be more to this letter, more to these symbols. They can't just be random. If we keep looking, maybe we can figure out what happened, and stop it before it gets worse."

The three of them sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their discovery settling over them. The air felt thick and oppressive, as if the very walls of the cabin were watching them, waiting for them to make the next move. Shantel could feel the tension in her chest, the gnawing feeling that they had opened something they might never be able to close again. She could see that Sarah was still holding onto the hope of finding answers, her determination not yet swayed by the growing sense of danger. Nova, too, seemed undeterred by the warnings in the letter, her fascination with the supernatural now completely consuming her.

Shantel, however, couldn't shake the feeling that they were standing on the edge of something far darker than they could imagine. The mention of Karen and the warnings about breaking boundaries were not just a call for caution—they were a cry for help, a final attempt to stop whatever was coming. And yet, they had no choice but to keep going. The letter, the symbols, the mysterious chest—everything was leading them deeper into the mystery, whether they understood it or not.

As they passed the letter around, each girl silently absorbed its cryptic message, aware that whatever happened next would change everything. But the questions remained. Who was Karen? And what did it mean to break the boundaries? The answers were out there, hidden in the shadows of the cabin—and the girls knew they had to find them before it was too late.

The name "Karen" kept coming up in their conversations, lingering in the air like an unsolved puzzle. It was mentioned in the letter, but each time it was repeated, it seemed to carry more weight, more significance. The girls discussed it at length, trying to piece together the connection. "Maybe Karen was the person who lived here," Nova speculated, her voice light with curiosity. "Maybe the curse is tied to her somehow." But every time Sarah heard the name, a tightness formed in her chest, and she couldn't bring herself to offer more than a distracted response. She'd nod, her eyes darting away, shifting uncomfortably as if something about the name triggered an unsettling memory that she couldn't or wouldn't share.

Shantel, however, noticed Sarah's reaction. She wasn't oblivious to the subtle shifts in her friend's behavior. Sarah's body language, once confident and open, had become stiff, her responses more hurried. When Nova mentioned Karen again, Sarah's jaw clenched slightly, and her eyes flickered toward the door, as if considering a way to escape the conversation. A knot formed in Shantel's stomach as she watched Sarah's discomfort deepen. Something about the way Sarah was reacting felt like more than just nerves—it was as if there was something she wasn't telling them. Shantel had known Sarah long enough to recognize when she was hiding something. It wasn't like Sarah to avoid a direct answer, and yet, with each mention of the name Karen, it became clearer that there was more at play. Shantel's unease grew, and she couldn't shake the feeling that whatever Sarah was holding back was somehow tied to the dark energy swirling around the cabin. But whether Sarah was keeping a secret to protect herself or the others, Shantel wasn't sure—yet.

That night, after the girls settled in for the evening in the old cabin, the atmosphere shifted. The air felt denser, as though something had woken within the walls, pressing against them with an unspoken weight. At first, the night seemed normal enough—quiet and still, the kind of eerie calm that settled over places far removed from the rest of the world. But then the dreams started. They came swiftly, vivid and unsettling, filling the edges of sleep with fragmented visions of shadows and whispers. Sarah was the first to wake, gasping in the dark, her heart hammering in her chest. She had dreamed of a woman—a woman whose face was familiar yet unrecognizable, her eyes filled with sorrow and something darker, like a warning that had been too late to heed. The woman had spoken her name, *Karen,* and just as quickly as she had appeared, the figure had disappeared into the fog that seemed to swallow her whole. Sarah lay awake, her breath shallow, staring at the ceiling, the room far too quiet for comfort. She couldn't shake the feeling that the woman wasn't just a figment of her imagination—that there was something real about the encounter, something that reached across time and space to touch her in the deepest part of her mind.

Shantel woke next, her body drenched in sweat, her hands trembling. She had seen the same woman in her dreams, though the details were blurred, slipping through her fingers as soon as she tried to focus. She had been standing in a dark forest, the trees bent at unnatural angles, their limbs twisted like they were reaching out to her. The woman, though distant, called her name—*Shantel*—but there was no warmth, no invitation in her tone. It was a warning. As the dreams faded, both girls couldn't shake the oppressive feeling that had followed them into the waking world. The cabin, which had seemed almost like a sanctuary earlier, now felt like a trap.

Nova, too, had awoken in the dead of night, her face pale as though she had seen something no one was meant to. She had heard faint whispers outside, the soft sound of someone—or something—moving around the cabin. The voices had been too far to decipher, but there was no mistaking the eerie sensation that came with them. It was as if the forest itself had come alive, its branches groaning with unnatural life. She had bolted upright, convinced that someone—or something—was out there, watching them. She tried to reassure herself that it was just the wind, that the trees had simply creaked in the night, but deep down, she knew better.

As they lay awake, the uneasy tension that had settled over the cabin became palpable, growing thicker by the minute. Every creak of the floorboards, every gust of wind against the windows, sounded like footsteps—like someone was pacing just outside, waiting. The wind howled through the cracks in the walls, sending shivers down their spines, and still, they couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every rustle of leaves outside the cabin was magnified, every shadow seemed to shift just slightly when their backs were turned. At one point, Sarah thought she saw a figure at the edge of the trees, a dark silhouette standing motionless, watching them. When she blinked, the figure was gone, leaving only the empty forest in its wake. But the feeling of being watched lingered, as if something had been there, and was still there, just out of sight.

By morning, the strange occurrences didn't let up. The girls had barely slept, their nerves frayed, their minds still reeling from the eerie sensations that had flooded them during the night. Even as the sun began to rise, its light weak and filtered through the dense trees, they couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of foreboding that clung to the cabin. It wasn't just the vivid dreams or the whispers in the night—it was the feeling that something had changed, that the cabin was no longer just a relic of the past but a place tied to something far older, something far darker. They could no longer ignore it. The air around them seemed to pulse, alive with something unseen, something that had been waiting for them. It was as though their very presence had disturbed something long dormant. The boundaries that had been mentioned in the letter seemed more real now than ever before, and with each passing hour, the girls grew more certain that whatever it was—whatever had been bound to this place—was awakening. And with it, the dread they felt grew, pulling them closer into the cabin's suffocating grasp. They had crossed into something they didn't understand, and the strange occurrences were only the beginning.

As the day wore on, the tension in the cabin grew unbearable. It wasn't just the strange occurrences that had unsettled them—it was something deeper, an unspoken rift beginning to form between the girls. The excitement that had once brought them together, the thrill of discovery and mystery, was quickly eroding into fear, frustration, and suspicion. Nova, however, seemed unaffected. She was more excited than ever, her eyes gleaming as she poured over the contents of the chest, the strange symbols, and the cryptic letter. "This is exactly what I hoped for," she said eagerly, as if the very mystery of the cabin called to her, urging her to dig deeper. "It's like the universe is trying to tell us something. We need to figure this out, it's all connected!" Nova's voice was bright, full of energy, her enthusiasm undimmed by the eerie atmosphere surrounding them. She couldn't understand why Shantel seemed so rattled, why the strange occurrences had shaken her. For Nova, this was the adventure of a lifetime, something she had always dreamed of—uncovering the unknown, facing the supernatural head-on.

But Shantel wasn't so sure. Her unease had been growing since the night before, and the more she thought about the letter, the more something deep inside her told her they were meddling with forces they didn't understand. "This isn't just some adventure, Nova," Shantel replied, her voice tight with frustration. "There's something wrong here. We should leave before it's too late." She glanced toward Sarah, hoping for some kind of agreement, but Sarah, as usual, remained silent. Her posture was distant, her gaze unfocused as she stared out the window, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. She hadn't said much since the strange dreams began, her mood shifting from curiosity to a quiet withdrawal. It was as though the very mention of the cabin's history had begun to weigh on her, like something in the air was smothering her, making it harder to think or breathe.

Shantel's eyes narrowed, frustration growing. She had never seen Sarah like this before, so withdrawn, so far away. "What's wrong with you?" she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. "You've barely said a word today. Are you even listening to me? Nova's getting carried away, and you—" Her words faltered as Sarah slowly turned her head, her expression unreadable. "I'm listening," Sarah said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. But there was something in her tone that made Shantel pause, a hollow emptiness that sent a shiver down her spine. "I just… don't know what to say." Sarah's eyes flickered briefly toward Nova, who was too engrossed in her excitement to notice the sudden shift in Sarah's demeanor.

"Well, you need to say something!" Shantel's temper flared, and her voice rose, the tension from the previous hours boiling over. "This isn't some game, Sarah! I don't know about you, but I don't want to be stuck here, in this cursed place, while Nova plays around like everything's fine." The words felt harsh as they left her mouth, but in that moment, they were the only way to release the frustration that had been building up. She could feel Nova's gaze on her, confusion and disbelief in her eyes. "What do you mean by 'cursed'?" Nova asked, clearly taken aback by the sudden confrontation. "This is exactly what we came for! We're uncovering the truth, not running from it."

Shantel sighed, rubbing her temples. "It's not the truth I'm afraid of," she said, her voice softer now, tinged with a deep concern. "It's the unknown. What if we're pushing too hard? What if we're not meant to find what's here?" She turned her attention back to Sarah, whose eyes were closed now, her expression distant. "Sarah, please, talk to us. You've been so quiet." But Sarah only shook her head, her voice almost inaudible as she murmured, "I'm tired… I just need some time to think."

The silence that followed was thick with tension. Nova looked from Shantel to Sarah, her excitement faltering as the weight of the situation settled on her. The three of them had always worked as a unit, always been in sync with each other, but now, they were on different wavelengths, each of them pulling in a separate direction. Shantel's unease clashed with Nova's thirst for discovery, and Sarah's quiet distance hung like a shadow over them all. The divide between them was widening, and the cabin, once just a curiosity, had become the catalyst for something far more dangerous than they had anticipated. The growing rift between the girls mirrored the darkness that was starting to take hold of their once harmonious friendship, and with every passing minute, the strain between them became harder to ignore. The tension had only just begun, and no one knew what would come of it.