Night fell quickly in the forest, wrapping the world in a suffocating darkness. Hansel and Gretel pushed forward, their legs aching, their breaths coming in short gasps. The faint moonlight offered little comfort, its pale glow barely piercing the dense canopy above.

Then they saw her.

A figure stood in the distance, cloaked in crimson so vivid it seemed to bleed against the shadows. She was still, unnaturally so, her face obscured by the hood of her cloak. The hem of the fabric brushed the ground, moving faintly as if stirred by an unseen wind.

Gretel grabbed Hansel’s arm, pulling him behind a tree. Her heart thundered in her chest, her instincts screaming danger. “Don’t move,” she hissed.

Hansel peeked around the tree, his wide eyes fixed on the figure. She began to move, her steps slow and deliberate, her cloak swaying with each motion. There was something wrong about the way she walked—too smooth, too precise, as if her feet weren’t touching the ground.

“Who is that?” Hansel whispered, his voice barely audible.

“I don’t know,” Gretel replied, her eyes never leaving the figure. “But we’re not going to find out.”

The figure stopped suddenly, her head tilting slightly, as if she had heard them. The siblings froze, their breaths caught in their throats. For a long, agonizing moment, the figure stood there, unmoving. Then she turned sharply and disappeared into the darkness.

Hansel exhaled shakily, his body trembling. “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Gretel said again, her voice tight. “But we need to keep moving. Now.”

Their steps dragged as exhaustion clung to their small frames, the dark, unrelenting trees swallowing the faint moonlight. The stream they had followed earlier was gone, and the air had turned heavier, laced with a faint, acrid scent.

Unseen among the shadows, Mary crouched low, her red cloak pooling around her like spilled blood. Her sharp eyes followed the children as they stumbled forward, her lips curving into a small, cruel smile. The crude oil she had poured into the stream earlier now stained their thirst, and the breadcrumbs Ruprecht had tried to leave for them had long been consumed by her shadows.

From her hidden perch, Mary extended a hand. Shadows rippled out from beneath her cloak, snaking across the forest floor like living veins. They reached a faded signpost meant to point the way back to safety. The shadows curled and stretched, obscuring the carved markings, turning them into nothing more than meaningless shapes.

Hansel stumbled, nearly falling as his foot caught on a root. Gretel grabbed his arm, steadying him with a sharp tug. “Watch where you’re walking,” she hissed, her voice rough with fatigue.

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“I can’t see,” Hansel muttered, his voice cracking. “It’s too dark.”

“Then stop tripping and use your head,” Gretel snapped. But her frustration quickly softened as she saw the look of despair on his face. “We’ll rest soon,” she added, though her voice lacked conviction.

Ahead, the faintest flicker of light danced between the trees. Hansel’s eyes widened. “A fire,” he said, his voice filled with sudden hope. “Someone’s there.”

Gretel squinted, her sharp gaze cutting through the gloom. “It’s too far,” she said, mistrust edging her tone. “It could be anything.”

But Hansel had already begun moving toward it, his footsteps quickening despite his exhaustion. “What if it’s help? We have to see.”

Reluctantly, Gretel followed, her grip tightening around the dull knife she kept hidden in her pocket. As they approached, the light grew brighter, revealing the charred remains of a tree trunk. Blackened branches twisted upward like skeletal arms, the bark still smoldering with embers. Around it, the ground was scorched, the air thick with smoke that clawed at their lungs.

Hansel coughed, stumbling back as the acrid air stung his eyes. “What… what happened here?”

Gretel scanned the clearing, her eyes narrowing. “It’s not natural,” she said quietly. “Someone did this.”

High above, Mary watched from a tree, her red cloak blending into the darkness. She raised her hand, and the smoke from the charred tree thickened, curling into long tendrils that slithered through the air. It wrapped around the children like a choking fog, blinding them and driving them further off the path.

Hansel coughed violently, clutching at his throat as his vision blurred. Gretel grabbed his arm, her own eyes watering as she pulled him forward. “Keep moving!” she shouted, her voice muffled by the dense smoke. “We have to get out of this!”

The shadows beneath Mary’s cloak writhed in delight, their dark tendrils flickering toward the children, tugging at the corners of their vision. But she didn’t strike. Not yet. Mary preferred to hunt slowly, to watch their hope erode piece by piece until there was nothing left.

The siblings stumbled into a small clearing where a shallow pool of water glimmered in the faint moonlight. Hansel dropped to his knees, gasping as he reached for the water. “We’re saved,” he murmured.

“No!” Gretel’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding. She grabbed his arm, pulling him back before his fingers touched the surface. “Look.”

Hansel blinked, his vision clearing as he noticed the oily sheen coating the water. The faint, acrid scent of crude oil hung in the air, mingling with the smoke. He recoiled, his stomach twisting as realization dawned. “Someone… someone did this.”

Gretel nodded grimly, her lips pressed into a thin line. “And they’re still here.”

From the shadows, Mary’s voice drifted toward them, soft and lilting, like a lullaby sung in a dream. “Little ones, you’ve strayed too far from home.”

Hansel froze, his breath hitching. Gretel tightened her grip on his arm, her voice low but firm. “Run.”

“But—” Hansel began, his voice trembling.

“Now!” Gretel snapped, pulling him to his feet. The siblings bolted into the forest, their hearts pounding as Mary’s laughter followed them, echoing through the trees.

From her perch, Mary smiled, watching them disappear into the darkness. She didn’t chase. Not yet. The hunt was only beginning, and she had all the time in the world.

Hansel and Gretel ran until their legs burned and their breaths came in ragged gasps. The forest swallowed them whole, its towering trees and thick undergrowth stretching endlessly in every direction. Each step felt heavier than the last, as though the earth itself sought to pull them under. The faint sound of Mary’s laughter still echoed faintly in the distance, a ghostly reminder of the hunter who stalked them.

Hansel tripped on a root and fell hard, the wooden carving tumbling from his grasp. Gretel stopped and turned back, yanking him to his feet. “Keep moving,” she hissed, her voice low and urgent.

“I—I can’t,” Hansel stammered, clutching at his side. His face was pale, his small frame trembling. “She’s going to find us.”

Gretel’s jaw clenched, and she knelt to pick up his carving. She pressed it back into his hands. “Not if we’re smart. But we can’t stop.”

They pressed on, the darkness growing thicker with each step. Shadows flickered at the edge of their vision, and the trees seemed to lean closer, their skeletal branches creaking like ancient bones. The forest had become a labyrinth, twisted and suffocating.