Selene stared at the clock, its ticking impossibly loud. The hands had begun to move again, but they weren’t following the normal rhythm of time. Instead, they spun wildly, faster and faster, before stopping abruptly at 11:47.

Her chest tightened. She grabbed the diary, flipping through it in a frenzy. Lydia had written about 11:47—she was sure of it.

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Finally, she found the passage:

"The clock stopped at 11:47.

The door opened."

A soft creak echoed through the cottage. Selene froze, her heart pounding as her eyes darted to the front door. It was open, swinging slightly in the wind.

Beyond it, the woods loomed, darker than ever.

And then she heard it—the voice, clear and deliberate this time:

“Selene… it’s time.”