This could have been the place she’d taken a picture, but there were no defining landmarks, only endless wilderness.

I decided to make my way back to the ruins instead.

The shale steps were slippery underfoot, damp with dew, but I made it to where the Lodge should have been without incident.

It took me a few more minutes to actually step foot on the stone plate in the ground. The writing inscribed on the stone gave me the sensation of something better left alone, but I wanted a closer look at those stains in the middle.

I knelt down to scrape at one of the dark stains with a fingernail.

Even with my eyes squinted, the closer I got to looking directly at the writing, the more my eyes hurt, and my stomach started flip-flopping in a horrifically nauseating way, like my guts were trying to flee my body.

I straightened up, examining the flakes on my nail. It was difficult to tell in this light, but they looked dark brown, and there was the slightest tinge of a rusty smell to the air in this spot.

Without a luminol test it was impossible to be sure, but I was convinced these marks were blood stains.

I wiped the flakes away, glancing back at the lake, and froze. I did recognize this vista from one of the Polaroids.

If I blurred it in my mind, then this was where my mother had stood and taken a picture. The gleam of the lake was there, a sliver of swirling sky… but in that picture, there had been a smoky, diffuse form covering half the photo.

So what—or who— had been standing there with her?

The rational, urban exploring part of my brain wanted to stay there for hours, touching every inch of the ruins and trying to piece together every place my mother had set foot here.

But the other part of my brain, the lizard always alert for danger, was chirping that something wasn’t quite right.

The little hairs on the back of my neck were standing straight up.

Within two seconds of focusing on my surroundings, I knew I was being watched, and that whatever was watching me was undoubtedly a malevolent presence.

I’d never gotten the slightest hint of true hostility from the monsters I’d met, even from Toth, who had been furious the night I’d come across him.

Which meant that whatever was hunting me right now was not one of them.

Predators chase prey, I reminded my shivering body. If I didn’t maintain complete control, I’d break and run.

Instead I forced myself to turn around, pretending to still be examining the ruins, but my eyes were sweeping the forest.

The weight of the unseen watcher’s regard was like a stone on my chest. Maybe it was my fear-heightened senses, or maybe the Void somehow amplified emotions, but I knew the watcher hated me.

The sensation of malice was palpable.

But I saw nothing else in the wilderness. As far as I could tell, I was the only living thing out here.

I pretended to be done in my exploration of the ruins, forcing myself to walk casually back towards the edge of the stone plate. The feeling of being watched didn’t abate; if anything, it became more intense.

As I cut through the path of black grass, I thought I saw something move at the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t look right at it. I didn’t want to set it off, whatever it was, especially with the malevolence it was radiating.

Not to mention, if I saw something terrible beyond my comprehension, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from running. My body was already quivering, and it was taking every ounce of willpower I possessed to keep my flight response in check.

But from what I could tell, the thing that had moved was pale, almost grub-white against the blackened, jewel-like palette of the Void.

With too many limbs. Far, far too many bone-thin limbs.

I swallowed back an acrid taste as I descended the steps. From here, I could run to the lake.

Would it follow me into the water, or leave me alone?

I pressed my lips together tightly, but not before a faint whimper escaped me. I had known going into the Void meant danger. I’d accepted the risks when I jumped in.