Elias pressed himself against the damp moss under the rock, the rusty knife trembling in his hand. The human finger, impaled on the carved symbol above—a circle with crossed lines, like a broken star—dripped blood inches from his face. Each drop was a heartbeat, a reminder that something was right above the rock. The growls had stopped, replaced by a silence that tightened like a noose. But he wasn't alone. He felt it in his skin, in his bones. Something was sniffing him out, searching for him.
His breathing was a whisper, barely a thread, but it still seemed too loud. The sharp branch he'd found was at his side, ready, but he didn't dare move. The claw marks he'd seen earlier weren't human, and the curved tooth in his shirt weighed like a sentence. The island wasn't done with him. Not yet.
Then he heard it. Not a growl, not a howl. A whisper, low, like leaves brushing the earth. "Stay…" Just one word, but it stabbed into his chest. Elias blinked, sweat burning his eyes. Had he imagined it? The rock was still, the forest silent. But the whisper came again, clearer, closer. "Don't fight… stay…" It wasn't a voice he recognized, not entirely human. It came from everywhere and nowhere.
Elias clenched his teeth, the knife biting into his palm. It wasn't real. It couldn't be. The hunger, the blood, the betrayal—the island was playing with his head. He'd seen what it did to others, how it turned them into monsters. Now it was coming for him, whispering, trying to break him. But he wasn't going to give in. María always said his mind was stronger than his body. He had to hold onto that.
A crunch above the rock snapped him out of his thoughts. Loose dirt fell on his face, mixing with the finger's blood. Something was moving, slow, heavy. Elias held back a scream, muscles tense. If he stayed, they'd find him. If he moved, they'd see him. But staying wasn't an option. It never had been.
Carefully, he slid the sharp branch toward his free hand. The whisper came again, more insistent. "Hunger… stay…" Elias closed his eyes for a second, forcing himself to ignore it. It wasn't real. It was exhaustion, fear, the island getting inside his head. He opened his eyes, focusing on the crack. There was a narrow gap on the other side, barely visible, that might lead out of the clearing. If he could get there unseen, he had a chance.
Another crunch, louder. Claws scraped the rock, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. Elias didn't wait. He rolled out of the crack, the slippery moss cushioning his fall. He ran for the gap, branch and knife ready. A roar erupted behind, not human, not animal, something in between. Elias didn't look back. He dove into the gap, scraping his shoulders, and fell into a narrow tunnel covered in roots.
The tunnel smelled of earth and rot, but it was empty. Elias crawled forward, his heart pounding in his chest. The whispers didn't stop, now faster, more broken. "Eat… stay… you're ours…" Each word was a knife, cutting at his sanity. Elias hit his head on a root, the pain clearing his mind for a second. It wasn't real. It couldn't be. But then, why did it feel like the words were coming from inside?
The tunnel ended at a slope, and Elias rolled into a new, smaller clearing, surrounded by twisted trees. He stood, panting, knife raised. The roar hadn't followed, but the whispers had. "Hunger… there's no way out…" Elias spun, searching for the source, but there were only shadows. His hand shook, not from fear, but from something worse. Doubt. What if the island had already broken him? What if the whispers were his own mind, betraying him like the woman?
No. Elias spat on the ground, the bitter bile in his mouth. He was alive. He was sane. The island wanted him to doubt, to give up. But he wasn't like the savages, wasn't like the traitor. María had taught him to fight, not with knives, but with will. "When everything falls apart," she'd say, "you keep standing." Elias gripped the knife, forcing himself to move. He had to find a way out, a boat, anything. He wasn't going to stay here to go mad.
Then he saw it, on a tree at the edge of the clearing. The symbol again, carved in the bark, the circle with crossed lines. But this time, it was covered in fresh blood, not dried, as if someone had marked it minutes ago. And at the base of the tree, a pile of meat, not a finger, but an entire arm, torn off, tendons hanging like threads. Elias backed away, the knife trembling. The whispers laughed, a sound that didn't come from outside, but from his head. "Eaaat… you're ours…"
Elias covered his ears, but it didn't help. The words were inside, clawing, promising relief if he gave in. He looked at the arm, the smell of blood filling his nose. His stomach growled, treacherous, reminding him of the hunger he'd ignored. For a second, a horrible instant, he thought about taking it. Just one bite. Just to survive.
He screamed, a raw roar that broke the silence. He drove the knife into the tree, right into the symbol, the blade sinking to the hilt. The whispers stopped, or maybe they'd never been there. Elias gasped, his forehead pressed against the bark, the arm's blood staining his boots. He was losing his mind. Or the island was stealing it.
A howl cut through the air, not far. It wasn't the roar from before, but something more familiar, more human. Savages. They were coming for him, drawn by his scream, by the blood. Elias yanked the knife from the tree, the sharp branch in his other hand. He didn't know if he was mad, if the whispers were real, if the island had broken him. He only knew one thing: he wasn't going to give up.
He ran, the forest closing around him. But behind him, the shadows moved, and a new whisper, barely audible, followed. "There's no way out…"