The sun had barely crested the horizon when they set out, their breaths visible in the frigid morning air. The forest ahead was dense, shrouded in lingering mist, and every step they took seemed to swallow them deeper into its shadowed embrace.
Harry clutched the map tightly in one hand, the other curled into a fist at his side. The marked **Studio?** was still miles away, and with no proper trails to follow, their progress was slow and uncertain.
"Keep your eyes open," Liam muttered as he took the lead, scanning the trees around them. "We don't know what's out here."
They walked in tense silence, their ears tuned to every rustling branch and distant snap of a twig. The wind wove through the trees like a ghostly whisper, stirring the unease already thick in the air.
After an hour, Niall broke the silence. "Do you think we've been here before?"
Harry glanced at him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, this whole thing." Niall gestured around them. "The cabin, the CD case, this map telling us to 'find the music.' It feels like we should know what it all means, but we don't. What if we've done this before? What if we forgot?"
Zayn frowned. "That's a terrifying thought."
"Yeah," Louis muttered, kicking a rock from his path. "But it makes sense."
Harry let the conversation sink in. The longer they walked, the heavier that possibility sat in his chest. If they had done this before, why couldn't they remember? What had happened to them?
The trees stretched on endlessly, their towering forms seeming to bend inwards, as if the forest itself was closing around them. Then, suddenly, the ground dipped into a narrow ravine.
Harry checked the map. "We have to cross it," he said. "The studio is on the other side."
Louis sighed, peering down at the sloping incline. "Of course it is."
They climbed down carefully, boots slipping slightly on the damp earth. At the bottom, a shallow stream trickled through moss-covered rocks, its clear water deceptively still.
"Careful," Liam warned. "Could be deeper than it looks."
Harry stepped forward first, testing the ground beneath the water. It was cold enough to bite through his shoes, but shallow. One by one, they waded across, the water reaching just above their ankles.
As soon as they reached the other side, a distant sound stopped them in their tracks.
Music.
Faint, distorted, as if carried by the wind.
Niall turned sharply. "Did you hear that?"
They all nodded, ears straining. The melody was haunting, unsteady, like a record skipping over the same notes again and again.
"Where is it coming from?" Zayn whispered.
Harry checked the map again. "We're close."
They pushed forward, adrenaline quickening their pace. The sound of the music grew clearer with each step, leading them to a clearing where a crumbling structure stood hidden among the trees.
The studio. Or what was left of it.
The building was small, its windows shattered, the door slightly ajar. Ivy had crept up the walls, reclaiming it piece by piece. Faded letters above the entrance read **Echo Recording Studio**—the words barely legible beneath layers of grime.
Louis inhaled sharply. "I don't like this."
"We have to go in," Harry said, his voice steady despite the unease curling in his stomach.
He pushed the door open, and it creaked in protest. The air inside was stale, thick with dust and something else—something old, lingering.
A single light flickered near the back of the room, illuminating a console covered in tangled wires and broken equipment.
And in the center of the table—
A CD.
Harry stepped forward, his heart pounding. The case was scratched, the title smeared, but he could just make out the words: **Remember.**
Zayn exhaled. "That's it. That has to be it."
Harry picked it up, fingers trembling slightly. He turned to the others. "Do we play it?"
No one answered right away. But the music had led them here for a reason. They had to find out why.
Harry reached for the CD player. He placed the disc inside, pressed play—
And the room was filled with a voice.
His own voice.
"—If you're hearing this, it means we failed—"
The words sent a chill through the room, freezing them in place. The recording crackled, skipping slightly before continuing.
"We didn't have much time. If you're back here, it means the cycle has started again. You have to remember. Find the song. Finish what we started."
The message ended abruptly. Silence filled the air, thick and suffocating.
Liam swallowed hard. "What the hell does that mean?"
Harry turned the CD case over in his hands, searching for more clues. The inside cover had faint scribbled notes, almost illegible. He held it up to the dim light, making out just a few words: **Studio. The door. Truth.**
Louis narrowed his eyes. "The door?"
They looked around. At the far end of the ruined studio, barely visible through the dust and decay, was a door they hadn't noticed before. It was different—clean, untouched by time, as if it didn't belong to this place at all.
A heavy silence settled between them.
"We have to go through it," Zayn said finally.
No one moved at first, but then Harry nodded. Heart pounding, he stepped forward and reached for the handle.
The moment he pushed it open, a rush of warm air enveloped them. Bright light flooded their vision, momentarily blinding them.
And when they stepped through—
They weren't in the ruined studio anymore.
Instead, they stood in the middle of a pristine, state-of-the-art recording studio. The walls gleamed with polished wood, a grand piano sat in the corner, and sleek microphones stood ready for use. It was beautiful, modern, untouched by time.
Niall turned in a slow circle, eyes wide. "What just happened?"
Harry stared at the spotless control panel in front of them, then back at the door they had walked through. The ruined studio was gone.
They weren't just in a different room.
They were somewhere else entirely.