Tessa looked back up the stairs. The vans were gone. But the woman with the serpent tattoo was standing at the top, arms crossed, patient as a spider.
And Tessa and Leo stood at the edge of the woods, holding hands, watching dawn bleed over a world that would never know what had almost come for it. run to witch mountain
Now, as they scrambled up a granite slope slick with moss, Tessa understood. The suits weren't government. They weren't police. They were collectors. And the key wasn't for a lock—it was for the mountain itself. Tessa looked back up the stairs
Leo smiled—a real, human smile. “Where?” And Tessa and Leo stood at the edge
The mountain loomed ahead—a jagged tooth against a bruise-purple sky. Witch Mountain. Locals told stories about the old observatory at the summit: the weird lights, the frequencies that made your fillings ache, the hikers who wandered back with no memory of three days. Tessa had never believed in witches.
Tessa pulled Leo close. “Do you trust me?”
The mountain groaned.