Night had settled over Aralith Island, a dark, suffocating shroud draping the dense wilderness. The trees cast long, menacing shadows, their skeletal branches swaying and whispering in the restless wind. But this was no ordinary silence. Somewhere, deep in the jungle, a hunt was in motion.
A young girl ran, her breath ragged, her chest burning with exhaustion. Her heart pounded so violently, it felt as though it would burst through her ribs. Bare feet slammed against damp soil, but the jungle floor was cruel—thorns sliced into her skin, roots twisted beneath her steps. She felt the pain. But pain didn’t matter. The only thing between her and death was speed. Behind her, the hunters gave chase.
Then—A deafening roar shattered the night. The growl of an engine, the guttural hum of a pickup truck tearing through the forest, closing in on her. The truck’s headlights sliced through the darkness, illuminating the chase. Two men stood in the truck bed, silhouetted by the blinding light. In their hands—chains, hooks, and iron rods. Their eyes gleamed with hunger. Their wicked grins stretched wide, feeding off the thrill of the hunt.
"Run faster, sweetheart!" one of them jeered, his voice twisted with amusement. The other threw his head back and howled—not like a man, but a beast. "Look at her go! She’s terrified! Just how I like them!" The driver grinned, his hands tightening on the wheel as he swerved along the twisting path, one hand slamming against the dashboard. "Don’t catch her too soon! We want to enjoy this!"
She clenched her teeth, willing her body to move faster. But she was losing strength. The truck lurched forward, gaining speed. The blinding headlights consumed her vision. Then—A chain cracked through the air. It struck the ground inches from her feet. "Almost got her! Should I try again, boys?" Laughter erupted behind her. The truck surged closer.
And then—it happened. Her foot caught on something—a root, a rock, maybe even fate itself. Time slowed. Her body pitched forward. She crashed onto the cold, damp ground, air ripping from her lungs. The soil was wet, but beneath it—jagged stone bit into her skin. Pain exploded through her body. The truck skidded to a stop just a few feet away.
She gasped, pressing trembling hands into the dirt, trying to push herself up. But her legs—they refused to move. Footsteps. Slow. Heavy. Certain. The men jumped down from the truck, their boots crunching against the earth. They were calm. Smiling. Like predators who knew their prey had nowhere left to run. One of them dragged his chain against the ground, the metallic rattle a cruel song in the still night.
"Wanna keep running, sweetheart?" he sneered. "C'mon, give us some more fun." The other held something worse. A long metal pole. At its end—a steel loop. A catch pole. The man twirled it lazily in his hands, tilting his head with mock concern. "Tired, aren’t you?" he cooed. "Go ahead, lie down. The night’s just getting started."
She tried to crawl back, but there was nowhere left to go. Nowhere left to hide. The man lifted the pole. She flinched. One last, desperate attempt to escape. But—The metal loop tightened around her throat. In that moment—The prey had fallen.
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The darkness of the night was pierced by the girl's uneven, fearful breaths. Her long, dark brown hair was disheveled, damp strands clinging to her sweat-slicked skin. A few stray locks had fallen over her forehead, blending with the moisture trickling down her pale cheeks. Though her face was drained of color by fear, a stubborn trace of defiance lingered on her lips. Her delicate yet defined features bore the exhaustion of her ordeal, but her eyes still burned with a flicker of determination.
Her once-innocent white bikini top, with its floral detail, seemed like a fragile remnant of the peaceful world she had been torn from. Her black shorts were torn from the frantic escape, stained with mud and dust. Her body was marked by the brutal journey—scrapes, bruises, and evidence of being dragged through unforgiving terrain. But the most painful mark was the red ring around her throat. The catch pole's cruel grip had left its signature, the raw, inflamed skin around her neck silently testifying to the agony it had inflicted. Even breathing felt like torture.
Her legs trembled. She pulled her knees close to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as if to shield herself from what lay ahead. Her entire body shook with exhaustion, but she forced herself to stay still. She refused to let them see her weakness.
The hunters were heading toward the truck when one of them smacked the metal bars of the cage with an open palm. "Look at her shake," the man sneered, his laughter carrying a cruel edge. "Scared but still proud. I think Varro will like that."
Another stepped closer, pressing his face against the cage. "But maybe we should have a little taste first, huh?" His voice was thick with amusement. "We wouldn’t want her going to Varro all stiff and lifeless, would we?"
Her stomach twisted. Her fingers tightened around the iron bars, not out of fear—but to maintain control, to keep herself from breaking. Their sick laughter echoed through the night.
She forced her gaze away from them, letting it sink into the darkness beyond. There had to be a way out. There had to be. But how?
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The Scream That Tore Through the Night
The girl's scream pierced the silence of the night. Alyssa watched from the shadows, silent and unseen. Her eyes, honed by survival, had adapted to the darkness. She no longer fought the night; she was part of it. Hidden among the trees, she remained still—muscles taut, breathing controlled. She knew even the slightest mistake could turn the hunter into the hunted. But there was nothing she could do.
The girl trapped inside the cage thrashed desperately, but the cold, unyielding metal held her fast. Her frantic movements met only with cruel laughter—mocking, taunting. The men grinned at each other, amusement thick in the humid air.
Alyssa had seen this before. Too many times. For a year, she had witnessed this nightmare play out repeatedly. And the worst part? She had once been that girl. Her mind betrayed her, pulling her back into the past—back to when she first arrived on this cursed island.
The Illusion of Paradise
When Alyssa first arrived on Aralith Island, everything seemed perfect. The sea stretched endlessly in mesmerizing shades of blue, the sand was soft and warm beneath her feet, and the surrounding forest was lush and vibrant. Untouched. It was unlike any place they had visited before. Here, it was just them and nature—nothing else.
She and her five friends had dreamed of this trip for years. They envisioned long, carefree days of adventure, sun-drenched afternoons by the water, and nights filled with laughter. The island’s remoteness only made it more special.
Alyssa remembered their first night vividly. They toasted with champagne, danced barefoot in the sand, and lost themselves in the magic of the sunset. As dusk settled, they gathered around a crackling bonfire, their conversations light and carefree, their world still untouched by fear. At the time, they had no idea this island was a death trap.
The guide who brought them here left them in what seemed like a beautiful beachfront villa—spacious, modern, yet somehow… eerily abandoned. Alyssa could still recall the exhilaration she felt as she lay on her back that first night, gazing at the stars. "This trip is going to be amazing," she thought. But that same night, the nightmare began.
The Night Hell Broke Loose
As the night stretched on, an unsettling feeling crept in. At first, it was just faint rustling noises outside, easily dismissed as the wind moving through the trees. Then, distant, muffled sounds, barely audible—like whispers carried through the night. No one thought much of it.
But then… they came. At first, they were just shadows in the distance. Silent figures surrounding the villa, barely visible in the dim moonlight. Then the glint of weapons. The clinking of chains. The cold glow of flashlights. And then, a voice—loud, commanding, and merciless. “Come out! Now!”
In an instant, chaos exploded. Windows shattered. Doors were kicked in. The air filled with the sickening crunch of glass breaking under force. And then—fire. Something was thrown through the broken windows—bottles filled with an acrid, burning liquid. Within seconds, the villa was ablaze. Curtains ignited, furniture crackled as flames devoured everything in sight. Thick smoke billowed into the air, turning every breath into agony. The walls groaned under the heat, wood splintering and cracking as the fire spread mercilessly.
Alyssa and her friends barely had time to react. Panic erupted. They ran, they screamed, they crashed into one another. They couldn’t stay inside. But outside… was worse. Shouts. Screams. The sickening sound of bodies colliding. Alyssa turned for just a second—long enough to see one of her friends being dragged away.
A piercing scream. Another thud as someone was struck down. It happened too fast. Then instinct took over. Run! She grabbed Bonnia’s hand, feeling an unnatural force surge through her body. They had to escape. Behind them, the world burned. Behind them, men roared in victory. Behind them, their friends fell. But ahead—only darkness. So, they ran deep into the jungle without looking back.
The Breaking Point
That night, they lost everything: their friends, their belongings, any chance of escape. The first days in the jungle were filled with confusion and desperation. They searched for help, but their phones were useless. They followed the shoreline for days, hoping to spot a passing boat, another person—anyone. But there was nothing. It was as if they had been erased from existence. As time passed, survival became a nightmare. Hunger. Exhaustion. Their cries for rescue met only silence.
At first, they held onto hope. Surely, someone would come looking for them. But the weeks stretched on. And no one came. And Bonnia began to fade. The light in her eyes dimmed. Her voice lost its strength. It wasn’t just her body breaking; it was her spirit. Alyssa tried—God, she tried. She urged her to stay strong. She found food, shared their dwindling supplies. But Bonnia was slipping away. And one morning, when Alyssa woke up—she was gone. No breath. No movement. Just cold, lifeless silence. That was the moment Alyssa made a promise. She would survive. This island would not be her grave.
The Cycle of Survival
Alyssa had spent years fighting for survival on this cursed island. And now, once again, she was forced to witness one of its most terrifying moments. Just like her, another girl had fallen into their trap. For a fleeting second, she considered making a move. To intervene. To stop it. But the men were too many. And if she made one wrong move… she wouldn’t be the only one to die. So she stayed in the shadows, watching. Calculating. Because there was one thing she knew for sure. Tonight, this would not be the end. This island was still not her grave. And those men? They would meet the fate they deserved. Just like the other hunters Alyssa had killed to survive. Into the Darkness.
Alyssa moved with precision, her footsteps silent and controlled. The deeper she ventured into the forest, the more the night swallowed her whole. Moonlight barely trickled through the dense canopy, casting faint silver streaks on the ground. The distant crash of waves broke the eerie silence, mingling with the whisper of the wind as it slithered through the leaves.
Her mind replayed the scene over and over—the girl’s screams, the hunters’ laughter, the cold bite of metal tightening around a fragile throat. No matter how many times she witnessed it, it never stopped feeling like a punch to the gut.
But she couldn’t afford to stop now. There was still someone left to save. Somewhere in this forest, the girl’s friend was hiding. Alyssa’s sharp gaze scanned her surroundings as she moved, every shadow a potential threat.
And then—she saw her.
A small, trembling figure hunched between the gnarled roots of a massive tree. Mia. The girl clutched her knees to her chest, her body rigid with fear. Her breath came in short, shallow bursts, her wide eyes darting around in pure terror. Every part of her screamed flight, but her body had betrayed her, frozen in place by panic.
Alyssa crouched down beside her, moving carefully. She placed her hands on her knees, lowering herself to Mia’s eye level. "We have to go. Now." Her voice was firm, but not unkind.
Mia’s head snapped up. Her tear-streaked face met Alyssa’s unwavering gaze. "But… my friend?" Her voice barely rose above a whisper—fragile, desperate, broken.
Alyssa held her stare. There was no easy way to say it. But on this island, the truth was never kind. "They took her."
Mia’s breath hitched. "No… No, no, no…" She shook her head frantically, denial overtaking her. Her entire body tensed, her mind refusing to accept what had just happened. "I have to go back! I have to—"
Alyssa grabbed her arm before she could bolt. Her grip was firm, unrelenting. "No. If you go back now, you’ll die too."
Mia’s eyes filled with tears. Alyssa inhaled deeply, steadying herself. She understood. She knew exactly what it felt like—the helplessness, the pain, the suffocating weight of loss. But right now, Mia needed to survive.
"If you want to live, you come with me. Now."
"But—"
"Now!"
Mia, still trembling, looked into Alyssa’s eyes. And for a fleeting second, she saw something there—an unbreakable will, a force that had endured unspeakable horrors and still refused to die. She swallowed hard, hesitating only for a moment. Then, she turned one last time, casting a final glance toward the direction of her lost friend. But there was nothing left for her there.
So, she followed Alyssa into the darkness. There was no turning back.
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