The cold bit at Louis' skin as he stepped outside, the damp earth soft beneath his boots. The trees loomed around them like silent sentinels, stretching endlessly into the mist. Their branches swayed gently, whispering secrets in the wind. He wrapped his arms around himself, scanning the shadows between the trunks for any sign of life—human or otherwise. The sense of isolation pressed down on him, making the forest seem vaster, emptier.
Behind him, the others hesitated in the doorway, reluctant to step out into the unknown. The cabin, though eerie and abandoned, still felt like the closest thing to safety they had.
"Does anyone recognize this place?" Liam asked, rubbing his arms for warmth. His breath curled in front of him in a pale mist, dissipating into the cold air.
Zayn shook his head. "Not a clue."
Harry stepped forward, still gripping the CD case they had found inside. He flipped it open once more, hoping for some hidden clue he might have missed. But it was still empty—no disc, no tracklist, just a blank plastic holder. A shiver crawled down his spine, and he wasn't sure if it was from the cold or something else. "Why would this be here?" he murmured. "Why leave a case with no CD?"
"Maybe we need to find it," Niall suggested. "Maybe it has answers."
Louis scoffed, his arms still crossed over his chest. "Great. A scavenger hunt in the middle of nowhere. Love that."
Liam exhaled sharply. "We need to figure out if there's anything useful in the cabin first. Food, water, anything that can help us."
They searched the cabin thoroughly, opening drawers, checking beneath floorboards, overturning the sparse furniture. The place was small and barely furnished—just a few wooden chairs, a dusty table, and a cot pushed against the far wall. The fireplace was cold and empty, and the walls were bare except for deep scratches near the doorframe, as if someone—or something—had clawed at the wood.
Harry was the one who found the map. It was folded tightly and wedged behind a loose plank in the wall. He unfolded it carefully, the paper yellowed and brittle with age. At the top, scrawled in hurried, uneven handwriting, was a message:
**Find the music. Remember who you are. Time is running out.**
Niall frowned as he read over Harry's shoulder. "Find the music? What does that even mean?"
Harry traced his fingers over the map, spotting a faint mark labeled **Studio?** in the distance. The question mark unsettled him. Whoever had marked it wasn't sure. That wasn't reassuring.
"Maybe we were supposed to record something," Zayn said. "Something important."
The thought sent a chill through Harry. He could feel the others glancing at one another, unease settling over them like a thick fog. They had no memories of how they got here, no clear understanding of why they were in this cabin in the middle of nowhere. But the message on the map felt personal. It felt like something meant for them.
Outside, the wind picked up, howling through the trees. The air inside the cabin suddenly felt suffocating, as if the walls were closing in on them.
Louis turned to the others. "I think we need to find that studio."
Silence followed his words, thick with uncertainty. No one wanted to say it out loud, but they all felt it—that pressing urgency, the weight of something just beyond their reach.
"We should leave at first light," Liam finally said. "Traveling through the woods at night is too dangerous."
They agreed, though none of them liked the idea of staying in the cabin any longer than necessary. They took turns keeping watch, sleep uneasy and fitful. The wind outside never stopped. Occasionally, the trees creaked as if something was moving among them. Watching. Waiting.
By dawn, they were packed and ready. The map led them deeper into the forest, where answers—or more questions—awaited.