The stars that had been so vivid moments ago were now shrouded by dark, swirling clouds as fierce winds tore through the trees around Airam and Jericho. Branches snapped, and leaves spiraled wildly, forcing them to cover their faces against the gusts.

Jericho squinted through the storm, urgency growing in his voice. "This storm's bad—we need to get everyone together. Especially..." he trailed off, but Airam caught the flicker of worry in his eyes. She knew who he meant.

He started toward the direction he'd last seen Irene and Phoebe. "C'mon," he said, his voice barely audible over the howling winds, "Irene's out there. I can't leave her in this."

Airam nodded, following his lead as they pushed through the oncoming gusts. She noticed how his pace quickened every time lightning illuminated the dark forest; the worry etched deeper into his face. Jericho's usual calm was gone; his steps were anxious, his movements sharp.

A bolt of lightning tore across the sky, and Jericho froze for a moment, scanning the trees with a frantic edge. "Irene!" he called, his voice swallowed by the roaring winds. He gripped Airam's arm tighter, steadying himself as they stumbled forward, bracing against the storm. The ground was slick, their visibility worsening with each passing second.

"We'll find her," Airam assured him, though her voice held its own tremor. She could see how much he was holding back, how much his sister's safety mattered to him. And in that moment, she understood that his cool, protective demeanor wasn't just for show—he'd do anything for her.

Another gust hit them with such force that it knocked Airam back, nearly throwing her off balance. She reached out to Jericho, but before she could steady herself, the wind took on an unnatural, almost violent intensity. Jericho's face twisted with alarm. "Hold onto me," he shouted, pulling her closer, trying to shield her as they fought to stay upright.

But it was too late. The wind surged, lifting them both off their feet and flinging them through the air. Airam's grip on Jericho slipped, and she felt herself tumbling into the darkness, branches scraping against her arms, her head spinning.

Her back collided with something solid—a tree, maybe—and everything went white, her vision blurring. The last thing she saw was Jericho's figure, twisted in the storm, reaching for her even as he, too, was tossed into the relentless chaos.

As they both hit the ground, everything around them faded, leaving only the roar of the storm as they drifted into unconsciousness.

Branches whipped through the air, leaves scattered like confetti in the raging winds as the storm intensified, spreading panic among the group.

Freya and Sean stumbled together, nearly blinded by rain and debris. Freya clutched her arm where a branch had scraped her, blood trickling down as she grimaced. "Sean! Where's Phoebe? We have to find her!" she shouted, trying to shield her face from the onslaught.

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Sean blinked rainwater from his eyes, looking around wildly. "I don't know! I saw her with Irene just a minute ago!"

But any hope of finding them quickly faded as a wall of rain fell over them, obscuring everything more than a few feet ahead. A massive branch crashed down just behind them, splitting with a crack as Freya and Sean flinched, backing away.

Meanwhile, further into the forest, Dahlia was struggling to move against the battering winds, trying to keep her balance. She shielded her eyes, barely making out Iris a few paces ahead of her. "Iris! Wait up!" she called, her voice swallowed by the storm. A sharp gust sent her sprawling to her knees, mud clinging to her hands as she pushed herself up, a wave of dread creeping over her. They were losing each other.

Iris turned back, her face pale, clutching her hands around her head to block the relentless wind. She caught Dahlia's arm and tried to pull her up, her voice strained. "We have to keep moving, get out of here—find the others!"

In the middle of it all, Irene wandered alone, her heart pounding, breaths shallow. The cold rain ran down her cheeks, indistinguishable from the tears she hadn't stopped shedding since her argument with Phoebe. The memory replayed over and over in her mind, piercing through the fear and chaos, leaving her raw and aching.

"Phoebe," she whispered, her voice trembling as she stumbled over rocks and fallen branches, her vision blurring with tears and rain.

Another blast of wind hit her, knocking her off balance. She fell hard, her hands scraping against the muddy ground. She tried to stand, but her knees buckled, and a shiver of despair ran through her. She was alone—completely alone—and it was her fault. She shouldn't have let Phoebe walk away; she shouldn't have pulled away when Phoebe had tried to reach her.

As Irene forced herself back up, lightning lit up the forest, casting everything in a ghastly glow. Shadows danced along the ground, and for a split second, she thought she saw a figure.

She froze, her heart pounding as her eyes strained to make sense of the dark silhouette just beyond the trees. It wasn't the shape of anyone she knew—not Phoebe, not Jericho. No, this figure was taller, with a vaguely human form but twisted, elongated, almost merging with the shadows around it. Its edges seemed to flicker, like smoke that might disappear with the next gust of wind.

But it didn't. It just stood there, unmoving, as if watching her.

A chill ran down her spine, cutting through the numbness of the rain. The figure's presence felt suffocating, oppressive, as if it were drawing all the air out of the forest around her.

"I... I don't know who you are," Irene whispered, her voice barely audible. Her hand trembled as she took a step back, unable to look away from the figure's unsettling stillness.

Suddenly, it moved—just slightly, a tilt of its head, a shift that sent her heart racing faster. It felt like it was acknowledging her, recognizing her. A memory flickered through her mind, something she couldn't quite grasp, a story earlier that week she'd heard about the shadows in the forest. Eva... and John...

She gasped, a strangled breath, as the figure began to dissolve into the darkness, slipping into the shadows as seamlessly as it had appeared.

Finally, Irene sank down against a tree, pulling her knees to her chest. She buried her face, letting out a shuddering sob. The storm around her seemed to match the storm within, tearing at her as fiercely as her own heart was tearing itself apart.