Andrew Coffey had been a nervous wreck before, so imagine his terror while entering yoga class for the first time. He had been to this fragranced studio before—with Edge— but only as a visitor who remained outside, whereas now, in the eager company of Alice ‘Raven’ Brook, he had somehow been talked into becoming a participant.
As soon as they are inside, the blind man stiffens, feeling like he had just stepped through a forbidden veil. He may not know how many people there are in this room, only that their eyes are now squared on him, making him wish he could turn invisible.
“Hello, Raven,” greets a woman from the far side, her tone lukewarm as she approaches the two. “I see you’ve brought a new friend. Who might this be?”
“This is Andrew,” the girl answers before turning to her friend. “Andrew, meet Joanna. She will be our coach.”
“Lovely to meet you, Andrew.”
“Thanks, uh… you too.” With embarrassing reluctance, Andrew extends his hand to the older woman, who shakes it welcomingly. “Come on, welcome aboard.”
Initially, Andrew tries finding a spot in the back row where no one will have to see him directly. Unfortunately, there is no space for him there, which leaves him settling for one of the middle rows instead— not too bad, he reckons.
Alice, with her own mat, joins beside him. “You’ll be fine,” she whispers.
“If you— sure,” he responds while tongue-tied.
Normally, the young man would have his hair out; today, however, he had chosen to wear a white beanie that perfectly caps his round head while hiding the scar on his forehead… just in case ‘anything’ happens again. The rest of his attire consists of a sleeveless tee and a baggy pair of shorts. Simple enough.
As soon as more people arrive, the lesson begins.
Andrew, being the absolute beginner he is, struggles through the early stages of their session before their instructor, Joanna, takes it upon herself to assist him personally… furthering his embarrassment.
Why did I let Alice talk me into this…?
Bro, stop giving a shit!
Once again, his inner voices are at each other’s throats, their incessant bickering complicating his concentration— shut up, both of you! All he needs right now is a clear headspace so he can at least maintain his balance on one foot, then the other.
“There you go, you’re doing much better now…” commends his teacher.
Needless to say, the first lesson he takes from this is to never take yoga lightly again. All these different poses that look easy on paper—child’s pose, table top, lunges, the downward dog, the tree, and even the warrior stance—are deceptively challenging.
Meanwhile, Alice is all on her own making this exercise look like a cakewalk.
The class goes on for half an hour until the time comes for their final phase that they call, savasana… which is otherwise generally known as the resting pose. Andrew, who had been sweating buckets throughout, can finally relax as he lays down on his back with his arms and legs spread evenly apart.
Joanna, the only person who remains standing, draws her curtains closed to darken her room. “Now, as we enter savasana, I want all of you to let go of your worries. Whatever thoughts and feelings you have, just let it all go. Let your mind float free.”
Andrew, as instructed, slows his breathing while allowing his eyes to rest shut.
“Relax your muscles. Give in to your exhaustion.”
As of right now, all he can see is pitch-black noise… with no such hint of an afterimage—his longstanding blindness saw to that, and continues to do so now. Instead, it’s his ears that do the echoing work to surface his memories.
“Let it all go…”
He fights with these memories, his most recent ones.
“Surrender to it…”
Joanna returns to the front of her class to ring one of her pots that she has, the ceramic ones filled with water. Its chime reverberates everywhere, boring into the temples of his skull directly.
The next pot she strikes ripples out a much lower frequency, along with a base that buzzes through his diaphragm and ribcage—he can even feel the sensation in his bloodstream.
“Let all your problems that are weighing you down go away...”
As she alternates between the differing tunes, Andrew can feel himself getting lighter, his body losing its solidity as it somewhat begins to float… like a balloon—the major difference is that this time, he is fully conscious of what is happening.
“Become weightless…”
He feels an invisible thread tugging him upwards into a sitting position, much like a hook on a fishing line, and then he opens it…
… his true eye hidden beneath the acrylic yarn.
Just like those two pivotal nights before… he can see everything again.
He can see everyone in the room laying in the same corpse pose… including himself—he can’t believe that it worked again, and so soon.
Very briefly, Andrew checks the scar on his fleshy self to ensure that its glow, ever as faint as it is, won’t be noticeable to anyone, which thankfully it isn’t.
Next, the phantom turns his attention to Alice, who looks almost as still as a doll. For a moment, Andrew decides to do something that he knows he probably shouldn’t do, which is admire this girl’s figure… respectfully, of course.
She is definitely fit with her lean arms, puffed shoulders, curvy waist, and toned midriff, which rises and recedes like a gently fanned canvas, bared by her sports bra and yoga tights. And with her hair tied back, he is granted a fuller view of her sleeping face.
Compared to when he saw her back in the hospital, most of her features have smoothed since then, making her appear younger again; he wonders if this has to do with her makeup or if she is simply taking better care of herself now.
Both, perhaps…
… not that it’s any of his business.
Something else, right then and there, catches Andrew’s attention—a subtle twitch that would otherwise be trivial to the naked eye. As he leans closer, he can see the mounds beneath her eyelids shuffling madly—a symptom of REM sleep?
Is something troubling you…?
It looks as though she is having a nightmare… or a lucid dream of some kind. It has him wondering if this sort of thing happens commonly during these classes.
Her rapid eye movement screeches to a halt… like something had frozen it. Her soft expression crinkles into a frown… something intrusive?
After another second more, Alice’s eyes flutter open, her eyelashes batting as she jerks her head away from Andrew’s disembodied consciousness. Just like in the waiting room, her globular gaze paddles left and right… as if searching for a perpetrator… only to pass through his point of awareness.
While he is on that topic, he realizes something else… a stark shift in his ‘weight’, like a stealthy load had fallen off his ‘shoulders’. He feels even lighter than a feather now… like if he so much as stands on his non-corporeal tippy toes, he would launch himself through the ceiling by accident.
But very soon, the lesson ends, returning this curious apparition into his body…
… back to his ‘blinding’ reality.
“Rise and shine,” pipes Joanna as she bustles to reopen her curtains.
One after another, everyone sits back up, their husky yawns spilling through the classroom, before they get up to leave with their belongings.
Andrew, taking his sweet time, stretches his neck, arms, and shoulders.
Alice, on the other hand, waits passively beside him while trying to clear her own muddled thoughts, her expression hauntingly neutral.
“That was actually quite fun,” chuckles her friend.
“Yeah…” she manages to reply, “… I’m glad to hear that, Andrew.”
The boy pauses at her tone; maybe he is just imagining things, but she sounds rather off again. But before he could decide whether or not to pry, their yoga instructor springs over to greet them.
“So, how was your first lesson?” she questions delightedly.
“Surprisingly, I enjoyed it…” he answers, “… mainly the last part.”
“Everyone has to start somewhere, Andrew.”
Alice takes this momentary diversion to excuse herself with haste. “Got some things to do,” she says while waving. “I’ll see you around.”
“Okay…” By the time he waves back, she is already out the door. He turns his attention back to Joanna. “Yoga is a lot tougher than it looks,” he comments.
The older woman nods while smiling. “It is, indeed. But with enough practice, you’ll get the hang of it, trust me.”
Andrew rubs the back of his hair sheepishly. “I don’t know if I’ll ever reach the same level as you guys, though.”
“It’s not a competition.”
“I know, you’re right…” He cringes afterwards.
“All you have to do is put your mind to it,” she ultimately advises. “Once you commit to that, you may just surprise yourself…”
He gives a warm smirk, absorbing her last bit of information with clarity.
Meanwhile, there is an urgent gathering of concerned citizens within the heart of Port Rhapsody, many with signs raised like flags to reflect their unified conviction in big bold letters and faded photos, each with a different name and face of victims past and present.
After dropping his son off at college, something compelled James to come here today, to be in their town square among these people stationed just outside of their vintage community centre.
Up ahead, near the foot of those wide stairs, a man older than himself steps up with a microphone and sheet to read from, a man whom he recognizes as Mr. Castor, the father of Edge—the lines on his leathery face are stark, even from a fair distance away. Adjusting his glasses and clearing his throat, he begins his speech.
“First off,” his voice trembles steadily, “I want to thank all of you for making it here on such short notice. I can imagine it wasn’t easy for many of you. But after the recent disappearance of Sarah Wood, my conscience left me no other choice than to organize this rally as soon as possible, while my thoughts and feelings remain fresh.” He points then to the doors behind him, adding, “Perhaps next time, we’ll get to be in there rather than out here in the cold.”
The crowd murmurs in response while James remains silent, determined to keep his head down as to avoid drawing any attention to himself, not that he’s hiding.
“For those who aren’t aware of who Sarah Wood is, she isn’t just another victim of the Black Forest. She is also the mother of Savannah Wood, a young woman who went missing in that same forest eight years ago!” Castor’s eyes flare up as he faces forward with his own photograph of the fated mother and daughter raised for all to see and absorb. “Can you imagine, as a parent yourself, what this poor woman had to go through… even long after her case had gone cold!? I sure as hell don’t need to!”
James hangs his head solemnly, his heart going out to all three of them, as do many others; some can even be heard sniffling.
“I wouldn’t wish this living hell on my worst enemy! And this is what brings me to my main topic.” Castor lowers his tone, though he maintains a steeled edge throughout. “How many more lives must be lost until our lawmakers decide to take this threat seriously? Because from what I heard, Sarah had entered the forest through an unsealed entrance. How many more people have to pay for their neglect for our safety?”
“NO MORE!” shouts a member of the audience, others agreeing.
“We, as a community, must take immediate action!”
“YES!” they cry in unison.
“We must band together to ensure—”
“BURN THE FOREST DOWN!!”
Furious outcries ripple through this sea of heads as they gyrate to find the anonymous instigator. “Who the fuck said that!?” screams a random elderly woman.
Castor leans over his podium, his eyes scanning for that same unhinged individual, his hands motioning to keep the peace. “Everyone… please, settle down!”
“Are you out of your fucking mind!?” protests another member.
“Come on,” fusses the instigator. “I can’t be the only one who’s thinking it!” His voice sounds gargled, like he had spent his whole life screaming while smoking.
“You need to leave!” they say to him.
James, who is unable to see this crazed individual from where he is, shares in the disapproving majority—the part that scares him is the fact that he isn’t entirely wrong.
“Everyone, please! Settle down!” adjures Mr. Castor, his persistence eventually winning back the crowd’s attention. Once they are indeed settled down, he continues. “I understand the anger and desperation, but we will NOT under any circumstances condone arson!” He waves his finger to accentuate this point. “In the face of adversity, we need to be better! We can’t give in to madness, for the sake of our children and elders!”
“Doesn’t sound like a bad idea, though,” someone else whispers, closely behind James. “Could save us a lot of trouble later.”
Andrew’s father turns to this other man in disgust, then decides that he’s had enough of these people. With an icy glare, he carefully brushes his way out of the horde, making sure to keep his face hidden from any reporters who could be present as well.
As soon as he’s in the clear, one thing becomes certain—Port Rhapsody, this once-peaceful fishing town, is reaching a tipping point. It’s only a matter of time…
Very soon, days begin to pass like a filmic montage, a passage of time which allows Andrew Coffey to undergo his transformation. It starts off gradual, him getting out of bed earlier than usual so he can do a few stretches and warmups, then to meditate wherever suits him best, whether it would be in his room, near the fireplace, or even outside by the lake, should the latter option feel safe enough.
The trickiest thing about routines is not necessarily the work itself, but rather the slow-burning consistency of it. The blind young man makes a conscious effort to go easy on himself and to not expect quick results, no matter how many hurdles he’ll have to overcome. This, in turn, stifles his inner voices from gaslighting, manipulating, and shaming him—after all, they are only as powerful as he allows them to be.
Oftentimes, Andrew would attend more of Joanna’s classes whenever he is in need of her guidance to get him back in that zone, sometimes with Alice, and other times without her, much to the budding curiosity of his peers.
In his free time, he would go for some long walks all by himself, whether it’s in the quieter streets of their town, somewhere in a park, or even by the shore. Sometimes, he would even run some long distances until his clothes are left damp with pools of sweat. Nowadays, he cares little about the risks of getting hounded by journalists, let alone mind-controlled animals anymore.
Still… Sarah Wood lingers in the back of his mind.
What could have compelled her to go into the Black Forest? She couldn’t have really gone in there willingly… could she? But then, he understands… what wouldn’t she do to find the person she loves more than anything in the world?
What’s worse… is who could be next?
The thought crawls through his skin every time; he doesn’t want to find out.
That’s why he has to do this. It’s why he refuses now to waste another second doing anything other than what he is supposed to do—the clock makes no exceptions.
But there are also times where Andrew is given no choice but to push away these burdens to focus on other important tasks, such as his final film project, which by now he is almost done with—it truly is amazing what having the right motivation can do.
Another change that occurs is perhaps one that he least expected of all, his reputation on campus. People’s attitudes have now started to shift around him. Before, they would subtly alienate him, whereas now, some of them are actively flocking to this supposed enigma for personal advice and other things whatnot.
There was once a time when Andrew would have yearned for this kind of attention, especially from girls. Granted, he is unable to deny how great it feels to finally have his peers view him in almost the same way that they viewed Edge…
… but it mostly just feels hollow now.
Right now, he, Alice, and everyone else he’s involved with have greater things to worry about. Plus, some of these peers are the same ones he used to hear gossiping shit about him, thinking he won’t notice. He humours the few while keeping the rest at bay… fickle hypocrites.
Regardless, Andrew seems to have gaine a better grasp of his own being, both physically and spiritually… and this is only the beginning.
In parallel, Alice Brook would accompany her peculiar blind friend whenever she is available. But in most cases, she spends the majority of these days having to make up for her classroom absences with extra labour, not that she minds. In particular, getting back up to speed with her theatre group is already making her feel like her old, sociable self again… almost, at least.
There remains an underlying edge to this goth’s demeanour, but no one, not even Emily nor anyone else within her social circle, dares to find out why; they are all just happy to have their friend back.
Unfortunately, there is also a downside to having her social life back. Her girlfriends would get nosy about her and Andrew while random guys would try coming onto her, only to get spurned—depending on her mood and their attitude, she would either let them down easily or crush them beneath her heels ruthlessly. None of those vultures would bother her again afterwards.
This contrast makes Alice all the more appreciative of Andrew. Despite the unorthodox circumstances of their friendship, there is something about the young man that provides her comfort. His presence, while uncertain, is equally stabilizing… but for how long, she wonders.
How long can they stay this way until they find Edge…
… or until whatever else comes next?
But more importantly…
… will things still be what they once were?
On one evening in particular, someone dreams of a lake, its water resembling the stillness of glass, its reflection as clear as a mirror, providing a sharp, upside-down inversion of the surrounding pine trees, the darkened sky, and its lucent full moon.
The dreamer appears to be sitting on a small dock near its end, as evidenced by the former’s eye level. Not only that, but the dreamer seems to be meditating as well; the tranquil atmosphere, in any case, gives off that impression. The dreamer is oddly familiar with this lake, despite having never set foot here before… ever.
‘W-What is this??’
But the dreamer, in an anxious fight for control, realizes soon enough that it is merely a passenger… a spectator with no real agency.
‘What am I doing here…?’
Embers flock around the dock, coiling at a creeper’s pace like a newborn whirlwind while the dreamer dwells within its core, untouched.
‘How is this—?’
“Alice!”
Without any warning, the dreamer feels a strong pair of hands shaking her awake, creaking her bed in the process.
“Alice, wake up!” spurs the hushed voice of Emily.
“W-What…??” groans Alice, who lividly squints up at her roommate.
Pulling away, she points the sleepy girl to their window, telling her, “You really need to see this!” Her tone, even as a whisper, is wrought with alarm.
After some brief deliberation, Alice sits herself up while throwing off her blanket. “What the fuck, Emily?” she bemoans while rubbing the sand out of her eyes.
But once she has a clear view of her friend’s face from the ‘shimmering’ nightglow, her sluggish annoyance morphs into sharpened concern as she follows the direction of her finger…
… and sees the anomaly for herself.
As if jumpstarted by a cold shower, Alice leaps out of her mattress, throws on a dressing gown to cover up her revealing nightwear, then slips on a pair of flip-flops to scurry out of their dorm room… with Emily stumbling behind, no match for her speed.
“Slow down!” her drone reverberates through the corridor and staircase.
When they make it downstairs to the outside, the two girls are met with an assembly of fellow occupiers, all of whom are equally confounded with their phones raised to document the same field of particles circling their accommodation—they are exactly the same ones that Alice saw on the road… the same ones she saw in her vivid dream just now.
“This isn’t possible…” she mutters dumbly—this can’t be a coincidence.
“You think someone set off a chemical explosion?” Emily probes casually, oblivious to her roomie’s growing trepidation. “You think we’ll grow an extra eyeball?”
“No…” she answers dourly, “… but you may not be far off.”
Emily nods, fixing her own hair as she chuckles giddily. “The boys are so flipping out tomorrow when they find out what they are missing.”
Alice hums, paying no real attention to any of her statements, nor the spectacle above anymore, as her intense focus shifts inwards…
… that is, until a wafting ember, a stray from its flock, melts into her palm like a real snowflake, its faint bluish glow submerging beneath her skin before dissolving—it even feels like ice.
All at once… the rest disperse, vanishing or blending into the stars like a gust of wind had purposely blown them all away, drawing a symphony of gasps from everyone.
“What is going on!?” someone in the crowd shrieks, visibly frightened now.
As an indirect response, a knowing glare sears across Alice’s face as a specific possibility—a particular man —comes to mind…
The very next day, a newly repaired Captiva motors along a thin dirt road which cuts through a different forest, one that is tame and inviting in comparison to the infamous one, until a lake house with a sprawling lake behind it pulls into view through the polished windscreen.
Once it is parked along the driveway, the driver switches off its engine and releases her grip on the steering wheel, her knuckles fading from bone-white to red. For maybe a minute, Alice sits in front of her dashboard with flies in her chest and noise in her brain, both screaming at her to turn back and forget all this.
But with her determination—and underlying compulsion—outweighing her anxiety, she dives out of her side door, slamming it shut, then marches towards the home of Andrew Coffey. When she steps onto the porch, she pauses to fix up her hair and clothes, a fleeting act of pride and modesty. But before her hand can reach the doorbell, a firm click from the entrance stops her before it swings inwards to reveal his father.
“Good afternoon, Alice.”
“Hi, Mr. Coffey,” she greets back with a formal wave. “How are you?”
“I’m alright,” he answers lightly, stepping aside to invite the girl in. “And you?”
“Fine, just… wow!” The plush lodge interior takes her breath away; it not only feels cozy in here, but also safeguarding from the elements outside. “You live here??”
The man smirks while shutting the front door. “We sure do.”
Alice does a rotation in the open living room. “This place looks amazing!”
“My old man would thank you. He’s the one who built it when I was a boy.”
Her eyebrows make an arch. “Seriously?”
A bushy smile traces its way through James’ beard. “That I am.” He directs this girl into the kitchen next. “You’ll find my son out the back… just over there.” He points to the windows. “My guess is he couldn’t wait for you, which I personally find rude.”
“You even have a… lake.” Alice’s wonderment twists into unnerving realization as she not only spots Andrew, who is currently meditating on a small pier, but thoroughly recognizes the lake he is facing… it’s the same one imprinted in her dream.
“Maybe you ought to interrupt him, since he told me not to…”
She stands there in front of her transparent reflection, almost petrified, before her friend’s father gives her a quick pat on the shoulder and leaves the young woman alone to presumably take care of bigger priorities.
This is impossible…
… was that even a dream at all??
With stubborn reluctance, Alice holds her breath as she exits through the back door to approach this boy, making sure to keep her steps as light-footed as possible, especially on the creaky floorboards.
The details here are all too similar… like if she had found a way to overlap this real-time scenery with the afterimage of her vision, they would surely match up perfectly—this can’t just be a coincidence… can it?
Pushing aside these thoughts, she stalks around Andrew to see him from the front. As of right now, he doesn’t seem to have noticed her yet… or he is simply too preoccupied to pay her any mind during this state. Either way, he must have been working hard for his skin, his face in particular, to be this oily and reddish in the autumn breeze, which is a trait she can admire in anybody.
But upon a closer inspection, Alice performs a double-take when she peeks at the exposed scar on his forehead… it’s glowing… pulsing at a steady rhythm too—could this be the reason he wore the beanie that day?
Regrettably… it looks as though her questions would have to wait, because who knows what could happen if she were to break his concentration now.
With a heavy sigh, she resolves to sit down behind him rather than in front for reasons unclear and begin her own meditation, for she may as well.
Back to back, they sit together in lotus, both individuals channelling the passage of air through their nose and mouth appropriately until their airflows perfectly sync up, granting them more synergy than either could realize yet.
What she had failed to notice, however, are the wisps of steam seeping through the pores of Andrew’s skin.
In conjunction, there is another congregation taking place, this time of cruisers, emergency vehicles, and heavily-armed personnel within the perilous umbra of the Black Forest’s tree line.
More specifically, the spearhead of this operation, Officer Dylan, gathers his team to first secure their vests, firearms, and communicators, then to ensure the functionality of their newly established first-person headsets with help from their fervent pioneer, Benjamin Shore. From a spectator’s glance, they bear a resemblance to characters out of a dystopian, futuristic sci-fi…
… at least to Carol, that’s what it looks like from the passenger’s side of their cruiser, her sticky palms indented from gripping her walkie talkie with the tightness of a hungry python. This is a big day for them, a big day that this otherwise off-duty deputy sheriff insisted on being present for.
Suddenly, Dylan’s voice hisses from the tiny speaker. “Hey, you good?”
Raising her head, she spots her partner smiling at her with his own radio.
“Yeah,” she sighs deeply. “I just want you to be careful.”
“Copy that. I’ll stay on the line as much as I can, alright?”
“Copy that,” the woman echoes.
“And you keep that leg of yours out of trouble, yeah?”
She chuckles, patting her cast as she again repeats, “I’ll copy that too… partner.”
This brief exchange is all the assurance they needed.
Shortly thereafter, Dylan assembles his crew into a tight huddle to initiate his briefing. “This is it! Do I have everyone’s attention?”
“Yes, Captain!” they respond in unison.
“I’m not officially your captain, but thank you anyway.” He clears his throat. “This is the day we’ve all been training for. We are about to enter this devil’s maw so we can take back what was stolen from us. Our plan is to pick up where Andrew Coffey and Chord Castor’s trail left off so we can hopefully find the latter and kill that thing.”
“I just wish we could use our K-9s,” blurts one of the squad members.
Dylan frowns at him. “You know why we can’t, Josh.”
“Yes, sir.” The younger officer shuts up immediately.
“Yes, it will be difficult… and some of you might not come back. But this is a risk we must all take to ensure the safety and future of our town.”
The team straightens up, all standing confidently.
“I wouldn’t ask any of you to do what I wouldn’t do myself, so if there are any of you who want to back out, this is your final chance, because after this, there is no turning back.”
Patiently, Dylan waits, pacing left and right while scanning for any signs of doubt.
“No one?” he probes, prolonging the suspense.
While there are a few side-eyes and downward glances, no one in this group dares to raise their hand, not even the officer who questioned him.
“Alright, then.” He claps. “Whatever happens, we STICK TOGETHER at all times. Whatever you do, DO NOT split up! Our strength lies in numbers, you got that?”
“Yes, Captain!”
“And keep your headsets on at ALL TIMES! I know they can make your eyes sore, but these devices are designed to keep you alive! DO NOT, under any circumstances, take these off for ANY reason until you are safe!”
“Yes, Captain!”
“And certainly don’t take them off if you see it!”
“Yes, Captain!”
“And if you see it… you OPEN FIRE! No questions asked! Make every shot count!”
“Yes, Captain!” they shout one more time with enthusiasm.
“Let’s go!” Dylan sounds off, punching his fist into the air.
The rest of his squad does the same, their unified cadence unleashing a battle cry that would stir up a dragon, much to the startlement of bystanders.
At long last, after tiring weeks of preparation, their mission kicks into full gear as Dylan marches his team into the belly of this beast that they call a forest, their rifles and automatics fully loaded. One by one, they vanish into the tree line, each of their figures fading into the blanketing darkness. No more can be heard from them afterwards.
Carol Marston, who is forced to wait back on the sidelines, burns every detail of that scene into the deepest recesses of her mind as she holds on to her radio for dear life, praying for the best possible outcome…
… for all of this to be over soon.
But right then, something incomprehensible catches her attention and nobody else’s… bluish glitters, almost invisible against the backdrop of the bright blue sky, congregate like a swarm of insects into the same forbidden wilderness… in a deliberate straight line.
For nearly a minute, she doesn’t blink… nor can she.
