Jake’s shoes scuffed against the cracked pavement, the quiet of the rundown town surrounding him. The buildings around them leaned like old men with broken backs, windows long boarded up, their facades painted in shades of grey and peeling plaster. There was no life here, only the remnants of what used to be. The streetlights were either flickering or completely dead, as if even the town itself had given up on trying to shine.
Beside him, Mark kicked a small rock down the road, his hands jammed into the pockets of his hoodie. They didn’t talk much; it had become the usual silence between them as they wandered the dead streets. Not because they didn’t have anything to say, but because there was nothing worth saying. The town felt hollow. Silent.
"You ever think about leaving?" Mark asked, breaking the quiet.
Jake didn’t look at him, his eyes still fixed on the road ahead. "Where would we even go?"
Mark shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling in that way that made Jake feel like the idea wasn’t fully serious. "Anywhere. Anywhere but here."
Jake had heard this before. Every time they’d walked these streets, Mark would ask the same thing, the same hopeful look in his eyes. But Jake knew better than to dream. The world beyond the town felt too far, too unreachable. They were stuck in this forgotten place.
"Yeah, I guess," Jake muttered, though he wasn’t sure he even believed it.
They turned onto a narrow street that led to the outskirts of the town, where the houses grew sparse and broken down. These weren’t the ones people lived in anymore. These were the abandoned ones — the ones that had given up long ago. They had stories buried in their walls, rumors whispered in the dark corners of the town, stories of ghosts and strange happenings. But Jake and Mark weren’t afraid of that. Not anymore.
“Race ya to the old house,” Mark challenged, a glint of mischief flashing in his eyes.
Jake snorted, his lips curling into a half-smile. “You’re on.”
And with that, they ran, their feet pounding against the gravel and dust as they made their way through the overgrown yard toward the first house — a massive, decaying mansion that seemed to stand like a crumbling fortress against the fading sky. The windows were broken, the wood rotting in places, but it still held some kind of strange allure.
Mark was already at the front door, his fingers wrapped around the handle. “You coming?” he called out, his voice echoing in the empty space.
Jake hesitated. There was something about this house that felt different from the others. It wasn’t just abandoned — it felt like something was waiting inside, something alive in the dust and shadows.
“Yeah,” Jake muttered under his breath, walking up to join his friend. “Let’s see what’s inside.”
The door creaked as Mark pushed it open, and the stale, musty air hit them immediately. Inside, the house smelled of rot and old wood, and the floorboards groaned under their weight as they stepped further into the darkness.
“Hello?” Mark’s voice echoed through the hallway. “Anyone here?”
Jake felt a cold shiver run down his spine as the words left his mouth. He wasn’t sure if he believed in ghosts, but there was something in the air — something that made him want to leave.
“Shut up,” Jake whispered harshly. “You’re gonna get us caught.”
Mark just laughed, turning a corner to explore the rest of the house, his feet crunching against the broken glass that littered the floor. Jake followed reluctantly, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
They reached the staircase, its railings broken and splintered. A shadow moved at the top of the stairs, just beyond the flickering light of their flashlights. Jake froze, his heart skipping a beat.
“You see that?” he whispered to Mark.
Mark didn’t answer, already halfway up the stairs. “Let’s check it out.”
Against his better judgment, Jake followed. The air grew heavier with each step, like something was watching them. The house seemed alive with the sounds of their footsteps, the creaking of wood, the occasional gust of wind that made the old house groan.
At the top of the stairs, the hallway stretched out in front of them, lined with old, faded doors. The sound of something — or someone — moving inside one of the rooms reached their ears. The unmistakable shuffle of feet, the scrape of a blade against stone.
“What the hell is that?” Jake murmured, his voice trembling.
But Mark was already moving toward the door, the curiosity bubbling in him like it always did. Without thinking, he pushed the door open.
And then they saw it.
In the dim light, the scene was almost surreal. The Queen stood in the center of the room, tall and regal, her movements slow and deliberate. Blood stained the floor beneath her feet, a peasant lying lifeless on the ground. Her guards stood around her, watching with cold indifference as she wiped the blood from her blade.
Jake’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what he was seeing, but he knew it wasn’t supposed to be seen. This wasn’t a game. This was real. The Queen — Mia — was standing over the body of a man she had just killed, her expression as calm as if she were simply wiping dust from her hands.
And then, the air shifted. The Queen’s gaze flicked up, locking onto Jake and Mark with an intensity that made his heart pound in his chest.
Mark made a noise, barely a whisper, but it was enough. A soft scrape of a foot against the floor, a fleeting movement — it was all it took. The Queen’s eyes snapped toward them.
Jake’s body froze, his legs refusing to move, his heart pounding so loud it threatened to drown out everything else.
The Queen tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a smile that looked far too innocent. “I see you saw something you weren’t meant to,” she said, her voice smooth and cold, like silk brushing against skin.
Mark’s eyes went wide with panic, his breath catching in his throat. “Shit, we need to go!” he hissed under his breath, his hand already gripping Jake’s arm.
But Jake couldn’t move. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the Queen’s gaze. She was standing there, so tall and so powerful, like a creature out of a nightmare. Her presence overwhelmed him, and for a moment, everything else seemed to disappear.
“Run, Jake!” Mark urged, shaking him violently.
Without thinking, Mark turned and bolted, his feet pounding down the hallway. Jake could hear his friend’s frantic footsteps, but he was rooted to the spot. His body wouldn’t obey.
The Queen stepped closer, her soft, innocent smile never faltering. “Follow me,” she said again, her voice like honey, but colder than ice.
Jake opened his mouth, but no words came out. His legs moved against his will, and before he knew it, he was walking behind her, the guards flanking him as they moved toward the door. He wanted to run, wanted to fight, but his body wouldn’t listen. It felt like the world had shrunk, leaving him no space to escape.
Mark’s voice echoed from downstairs, but it grew fainter as he fled the house. "Jake! You can’t go with her!" But his warning was lost in the growing distance.
They reached the door, and the Queen motioned toward the outside, her guards stepping aside to make room for him. The wind had picked up, howling through the broken windows as they made their way down the front steps and toward a large, waiting yacht anchored near the shore.
“I see you’ve come to understand your position,” the Queen said as they walked, her voice light and musical. “But you still have much to learn.”
Jake had no words left. He only followed.
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