Wavering Truth

Chapter 8

Austin sat alone near the central fire, its weak embers casting sporadic flickers of light across his weary face. The encounter at the barricade played over and over in his mind. The hollow eyes, the distorted voice - was it really Mia? Or was it something pretending to be her?

Leah approached quietly, her footsteps deliberate yet soft, like she knew he didn't want company but came anyway. She settled onto the log across from him, and the warm glow of the fire highlighted the weariness reflected in her features, inviting a moment of connection amidst their silence.

"You went back to the barricade," she said. It wasn't a question.

Austin didn't look at her. He kept his eyes fixed on the dying flames. "I thought I heard her again."

Leah's lips tightened, and for a moment, she didn't respond. When she finally spoke, her voice was measured but tinged with unease.

"What did you see?"

Austin hesitated, his fingers tracing the edges of the paper in his pocket. It was warm again, though not unbearably so. Almost as if it's listening, he thought grimly.

"A shadow," he said at last. "It looked like Mia. Sounded like her, too. But it… wasn't her."

Leah's eyes searched his face, as if trying to determine whether he was lying or losing his grip. Finally, she sighed, her voice faltering for a moment. "I… I don't know what to believe anymore. This isn't something we can explain, at least not yet."

Austin watched her closely, noticing the brief hesitation in her tone, the crack in her usual composure.

"You're scared," he said quietly.

"Aren't you?" she shot back, her voice sharper than intended. She exhaled, composing herself again. "Look, the others are starting to talk. They're saying the whispers, the… shadows, all of it started when you found that paper."

Austin's head snapped up, a flicker of anger crossing his face. "You think I'm responsible for this?"

"I didn't say that." Leah's tone was calm, but her gaze was steady, unyielding. "I'm just saying people are scared. They're looking for something to blame."

The tension between them was palpable, but before either could say more, Colton's voice rang out from the edge of the camp.

"Everyone! Over here. Now."

The group gathered near the barricade, their breath visible in the cold night air. Colton stood at the center, holding up something that glinted faintly in the moonlight. It was another shard of glass, similar to the one Austin had found, but larger and more warped. The markings around it were faint but unmistakable.

"Found this during patrol," Colton said grimly. "And look." He gestured to the ground, where the markings seemed to have spread, new lines and symbols forming an even more intricate pattern.

Whispers broke out among the group. Austin felt Leah's eyes on him again, but he refused to meet her gaze. Instead, he stepped forward, his focus on the shard. The warmth in his pocket intensified.

"It's connected," he murmured, almost to himself.

"What?" Colton snapped, his eyes narrowing.

Austin hesitated, then pulled the paper from his pocket. "This. It… reacts to these things. The shards, the markings. It's like they're part of the same puzzle."

The group stared at the paper, its faintly glowing edges casting an eerie light. Someone muttered a curse. Another took a step back, as if the object itself was dangerous.

"And you didn't think to tell us this sooner?" Colton's voice was sharp, accusatory.

"I wasn't sure," Austin said defensively. "I still don't know what it means. But I think it's trying to tell us something."

"Or lead us into a trap," someone muttered, the accusation hanging in the cold air.

Leah's voice cut through the rising murmurs. "Enough. Arguing won't get us anywhere. What we need is a plan."

Colton nodded reluctantly. "Alright. First thing's first: no one goes anywhere alone. Not to the barricade, not even to the edge of camp. Second, we'll keep watch in shifts. Whatever's out there, we're not giving it any more opportunities."

That night, Austin's dreams were vivid and fragmented, a kaleidoscope of images that felt too real to be mere figments of his imagination. He saw the markings, their lines shifting and twisting like living things. He saw the shadowy figure again, its hollow eyes filled with something that looked like sorrow. He saw the shard, its surface melting into his hand, burning but leaving no mark. And he saw the paper, its edges burning but never consumed, the words on it rearranging themselves into a single, chilling sentence:

It's not what it seems.

He woke with a start, his heart pounding. The camp was quiet, and the fire was reduced to glowing embers. But the uneasy feeling from his dream lingered, wrapping around him like a second skin.

"Can't sleep either?"

Leah's voice startled him. She was sitting a few feet away, her flashlight resting on her lap. He hadn't even noticed her.

"No," he admitted, rubbing his face. "Too much going on in my head."

She nodded, her gaze distant. "I keep thinking about Mia. About what you saw."

"You don't believe me," he said flatly.

"I didn't say that." She hesitated, then added, "I just don't know what to believe anymore."

They sat in silence for a while, the weight of unspoken fears hanging heavy between them. Finally, Leah spoke again.

"If this paper is connected to whatever's happening, we need to figure out how. Before it's too late."

Austin didn't respond. He stared at the paper in his hands, its faint glow illuminating the words etched into it.

The truth lies within.

And somewhere, just beyond the edge of the firelight, the shadows watched and waited.