Dead Land Doesn’t Echo, It Swallows

The morning was gray and wet — the kind of air that made your clothes cling like guilt.

We didn't talk much. The mood had shifted, and it wasn't just because of the corpse buried under yesterday's ash. There was something else in the wind. A pressure. Like Skull Island was holding its breath just long enough to watch us screw up.

We moved in silence for hours, cutting north. Theo kept checking Mercer's map like it owed him answers, and Ava... Ava was too quiet.

When she's quiet, it means she's thinking about killing something. Or someone. Probably someone.

"How far to Halden's last known camp?" I asked.

Theo didn't look up. "If the trail holds, we should hit the western ridge by nightfall. After that, no markers. Just a name and a graveyard."

"Comforting."

The trail narrowed as we climbed — steep shale cliffs to the left, a drop that promised a spectacularly stupid death to the right. Trees turned to twisted spires of bone-colored wood, all bent one way, like wind once howled through here and never left.

Then we saw it.

A line of stakes.

Dozens of them, maybe more, jammed into the ridge like crude picket fences. Each one had something tied to the top — bits of cloth, broken goggles, bones. Warnings. Trophies. Maybe both.

Theo swallowed. "Is this... her territory?"

Ava nodded. "Welcome to Thirteen."

We didn't stop to pay respects.

Didn't feel right, when you might join the décor.

By midday, the sky opened up.

Not rain — sludge. Warm, oily drops that hissed when they hit the ground. We ducked into a stone cleft, barely wide enough to sit. The stink was sulfur and old blood.

"Still think this is better than Mercer's camp?" I asked, not really joking.

Theo didn't answer. His eyes were locked on a shape just visible through the curtain of rain. A watchtower — newer than the one we'd found burned. Still intact.

It was perched on a distant rise, wooden slats glistening with wet.

Movement.

One figure.

Then two.

Then...

Gone.

"I think they saw us," Theo whispered.

"No," Ava said. "They let us see them."

I felt my stomach twist.

The rain stopped as suddenly as it started. Like someone upstairs closed a faucet.

Ava stood. "We move fast, we can scout the tower before nightfall. If it's theirs, we observe. If it's not…"

"We steal it," I said.

She didn't disagree.

We reached the ridge by sunset.

The tower was abandoned. At least, that's what it wanted us to think.

Rotten planks, no guards, a broken rope ladder still swaying in the breeze.

Ava went first. Climbing like she was born in a warzone. I followed, then Theo. I tried not to think about how long that rope had been hanging or what might be waiting up top.

But there was nothing.

Just a small platform, a collapsed roof, and a nest of scavenged supplies — dried meat, water canisters, maps that were more scribble than strategy.

Someone had been here.

But not for long.

"They retreated," Ava said. "Quick. Not a fight. A withdrawal."

Theo picked up a half-burned journal. "It mentions Halden."

We both turned.

He read: "'Holdings lost. Two squads absorbed. Halden doesn't take prisoners. She converts. Burn the mark or be marked.'"

He held the page up. On the back: the same triangle-with-a-slash symbol we saw on the girl's throat.

"Halden doesn't just kill," Ava murmured. "She repurposes."

"We need to leave," I said.

"No," she said. "We need to keep going."

We moved out an hour later. Downhill, deeper into Thirteen. The trees got stranger. Thinner. Covered in fungus that shimmered under our lights.

Then came the singing.

Soft.

Distant.

Female.

Theo froze. "That's not a bird."

"Nope."

Ava knelt, motioned for silence.

The singing faded.

Then laughter. Childlike. High and broken.

Theo's hands were shaking.

We turned back to Ava.

She wasn't looking at us.

She was looking at the person standing twenty feet ahead.

Barefoot.

Face painted in black ash.

Eyes glowing faint red.

Not from a torch.

From inside.

She didn't speak.

Didn't move.

Didn't blink.

Just stood there.

Watching.

Waiting.

Theo reached for his weapon.

"Don't," Ava said.

The girl tilted her head. Slow. Mechanical.

Then turned.

And ran.

Not away.

But deeper.

Into the dark.

Ava didn't hesitate.

"Follow her," she said.

"What?" I snapped. "Did you miss the 'eyes like Satan's headlamp' thing?"

"She's leading us somewhere," Ava said.

Theo stared. "And that's good?"

Ava looked back at us, face grim.

"If we want to understand Halden… we follow the things she creates."

And so, like idiots with a death wish and a compass that didn't work, we chased a ghost girl into the woods.

Because on Skull Island, the only way out is through.

And some paths?

You don't come back from them.

[TO BE CONTINUED AFTER TEA]

The Girl Who Doesn't Blink

She didn't look back.

Bare feet on rotted soil, sprinting like her bones knew the land better than we ever could. The girl with the ash-painted face moved like something feral. Not a child. Not anymore.

I didn't want to follow her.

But I also didn't want to be the one standing still when something worse caught up.

Branches clawed at my face as we ran. The undergrowth here was thicker, pulsing with heat and dampness like the jungle had a fever. Ava was ahead, knife drawn, moving low and fast. Theo trailed behind, muttering something about "this is definitely a trap" under his breath like a prayer.

I didn't tell him he was probably right.

No one needed that kind of validation.

The girl led us through a crack in the stone — a narrow split between two boulders that looked like the jaw of a dead god. Beyond it? Silence. Not the peaceful kind.

The hollow kind.

Like sound had tried to live here and gave up.

Theo slowed. "She gone?"

Ava raised a hand, halting us.

We stood there, breathing. Listening.

A whisper.

Not words.

Just breath.

Then the girl's face appeared again. Upside down, dangling from a branch like she was part bat. Her hair hung in dripping strands, and her mouth curled up like it had forgotten how smiling was supposed to work.

She pointed. Not at us.

At a mound about ten meters ahead.

We didn't move.

She dropped to the ground without a sound, crouched, and tapped the dirt beside her.

Once.

Twice.

Then backed away into the trees.

Gone again.

Theo exhaled shakily. "I miss Mercer's death glares. That felt safer."

Ava approached the mound. Cautiously. Knife ready.

Then she froze.

"Jack."

I moved to her side.

It wasn't a mound.

It was a body.

No, bodies.

Half a dozen at least, tangled together. Some stripped of flesh. Others wearing armor with the triangle-slash symbol.

Ava knelt. "These are Halden's."

"Traitors?"

"Failures."

Theo circled wide. "So that girl's not just a scout."

"No," Ava said. "She's a message."

I stepped back from the pile. Something about the way the corpses were arranged didn't sit right. Not random. Intentional.

Ritualistic.

The kind of scene that says: "This is what happens when you disappoint me."

We didn't speak for a while after that.

The girl didn't reappear. But the forest changed the deeper we moved in. No more ash. No more skeletal trees. Here, the plants were green. Lush. Too lush. Like life was making a comeback but didn't know when to stop.

Vines curled in spiral patterns.

Moss pulsed faintly under our boots.

And everywhere, small birds watched us. Silent. Blinking too slow.

Theo broke the silence first. "What if Halden's not the bad one?"

Ava didn't turn.

"She burns children alive."

Theo bit his lip. "We don't know that."

"She marks them."

"You're assuming that means suffering."

I stared at him.

"She's decorating trees with corpses, Theo."

He glanced away. "Yeah. Sorry. Just... trying to understand."

Ava stopped walking. Turned slowly.

"You want to understand Halden?" she asked. "You can't. Not from a distance. You'd have to become her. And that's a one-way road."

Theo didn't respond.

Didn't need to.

The silence between them said enough.

We made camp in the roots of a collapsed tree. The trunk was hollow and wide enough to lie inside if you curled tight. Ava took first watch. Theo passed out almost instantly.

I couldn't sleep.

Not with my brain replaying that girl's grin on loop like a cursed record.

I stared at the roof of our tree tunnel and whispered, "What are we even doing here?"

Ava, barely audible from outside, replied, "Trying to survive. Accidentally thinking bigger."

"That's dangerous."

"It's how every rebellion starts."

I shifted. "We're not a rebellion."

"You will be," she said. "Even if you don't mean to be."

Somewhere in the night, I heard the girl again.

Singing.

Soft. Wordless.

Like a lullaby with no melody.

Then: footsteps.

Not hers.

Heavier.

Multiple.

I jolted upright.

Ava was already crouched, blade in hand.

She nodded once. "They found us."

Theo stirred. "Who?"

We didn't answer.

Because they stepped into view.

Three figures.

Tall. Armored. Silent.

Each bore the triangle-slash symbol — not painted, but scarred into their armor and flesh.

The lead one removed their helmet.

A woman. Pale. Eyes like wet bone. Lips sewn into a permanent grin with black thread.

I didn't move.

Neither did Ava.

The woman raised one hand.

Not in peace.

Not in threat.

Just... acknowledgment.

Then she pointed at me.

Just me.

Then turned.

And walked away.

The others followed.

No attack. No sound. No explanation.

Just... left.

Theo whispered, "What the hell was that?"

Ava looked at me.

"You've been marked."

I stared after the retreating figures. "For what?"

Her voice was quiet.

"Something only Halden knows."

Elsewhere...

Calen sat at a stone table, watching the flames in a carved brazier flicker blue.

His red-haired lieutenant leaned in. "They're still moving deeper. Into Thirteen."

Calen smiled.

"They're not dying," she said.

"Not yet," he agreed.

"You want me to intervene?"

He shook his head. "No. Let Halden test them."

She frowned. "You trust her?"

"I trust the island," he said. "And right now... it's giving them a stage."

He leaned forward, eyes gleaming.

"Let's see what kind of performance they put on."