I pulled myself into the leather passenger seat, the heavy door slamming shut with a solid, echoing thud that cut off the damp mountain air. I pressed my palm against the cool windowpane, offering a small, hesitant wave to the general manager as the vehicle lurched forward, leaving that ghastly cavern behind in the rearview mirror.
The engine hummed low and steady, its rhythmic vibration rattling through the floorboards while the headlights sliced through the suffocating darkness of the winding forest road.
For a very long time, complete silence hung over the cabin. It was a heavy, suffocating kind of quiet—the kind that makes every breath feel too loud. I kept my eyes fixed on my lap, nervously twisting my fingers together, occasionally stealing sideways glances at the harsh, carved pro
