Canto 2: Percieved Reality (2)

The sterile office walls seemed to press in on Reyn as she finished her initial story. Her voice, hoarse from emotion, trailed off. Shame radiated from her like a heat wave, twisting her insides.

Professor Bridges sat across from her, an unreadable mask on her face. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock in the corner.

Reyn reached for the glass of water on the side table, its coolness a fleeting reprieve from the heat of shame scorching her insides. With trembling hands, she brought it to her lips, but the water only moistened her parched throat, doing little to quench the fire of guilt.

Finally, Professor Bridges spoke, her voice surprisingly gentle for someone who looked like she could be Reyn's older sister. "Take your time, Reyn. This isn't easy."

Relief washed over Reyn in a wave. The professor's unexpected empathy, a balm on her raw emotions, gave her the strength to continue.

Steeling herself, Reyn set the glass down with a soft clink.

"It was my fault, Professor. All of it. Grandpa always told me stories about Blackwood Mountain, about the hidden meadow teeming with rare wildlife. It seemed perfect for our project."

Shame burned in her gut, a hot, acrid coal. The old woman's words echoed in her mind, a haunting melody of warning.

‘Remember, the mountain doesn't care for your stories or your films. It demands respect, and sometimes a sacrifice.’

"We were young, Professor," Reyn continued, her voice thick with self-loathing. "We thought we knew everything. Even Bernadette, the most cautious of us, was swept up in the excitement."

The memory of their laughter, their carefree trek up the treacherous slopes, twisted like a knife in her gut. Each joyous step had been a step closer to the darkness that awaited them.

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the image of Professor Bridges across from her. "We should have listened. We should have turned back." The guilt was a monstrous weight, crushing her spirit. She, the one trained by her hunter grandfather in the ways of the wild, the one who should have known better, had led them into a nightmare.

Professor Bridges reached out, her touch a gentle anchor in the storm of emotions. "Reyn," she said softly, "You couldn't have predicted the horror that awaited you. What happened wasn't your fault."

But the words did little to soothe the tempest within. Generations of hunters flowed through her veins, a legacy built on respect for nature's power. Yet, she had failed to heed its ancient warnings. The weight of their loss, the chilling memory of the darkness, was a burden she felt she alone could carry.

Taking a shaky breath, Reyn forced herself to continue. "There's more, Professor. Things I haven't been able to… articulate." She closed her eyes, the terror clawing at the edges of her consciousness. "The darkness… it wasn't just the absence of light. It felt alive, Professor. It pulsed with a malevolent energy that seeped into your bones, and stole the very breath from your lungs."

The raw terror in her voice spoke volumes. Professor Bridges listened patiently, her eyes filled with empathy and a quiet strength that helped ground Reyn.

As Reyn continued her harrowing tale, the memories, though no less horrifying, began to lose their stranglehold.

With each word spoken, a sliver of the burden was lifted, replaced by a sliver of hope. Perhaps, by facing the darkness within, she could finally begin to heal.

- - -

April 17, 2016: Blackwood Mountain

5:30 PM

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the mountainside as Pearl and Bobby, the ranger guides, led the student group to a clearing. Here, nestled amongst towering pines, they set up camp. Laughter mingled with the clinking of mess kits as the students pitched their tents and prepared dinner.

Despite the unsettling whispers at the ranger station, Blackwood Mountain unfolded before them in breathtaking splendor. Lush valleys carpeted with wildflowers gave way to jagged peaks that scraped the azure sky. The air, crisp and clean, carried the sweet scent of pine and damp earth.

As the campfire crackled merrily, casting flickering shadows on their faces, the students huddled together, their faces aglow with the warmth of the flames and the excitement of their project.

"This place is unreal," Vonster, exclaimed, leaning back on his elbows. "Beats any studio set, hands down!"

Ezekiel, squirmed on his log, his eyes flitting nervously from the darkening forest to the confident faces around him. "The view is, uh, amazing," he mumbled, his voice cracking slightly.

Bernadette, nudged him with her elbow. "Relax, Ezekiel," she whispered. "We have the rangers with us, remember?" Her own gaze, however, flickered towards the dense woods with a hint of unease.

Primitivo, the filmmaker of the group with a brooding air, sat silently across from them, his gaze fixed on the flames. He rarely spoke, his communication limited to intense eye contact and cryptic gestures, he remained an outsider, a mystery wrapped in a hoodie

Mercy, offered a wry smile. "Legends or not, we still need to be careful. This mountain demands respect, even from those of us who haven't exactly scaled Mount Everest." Her pointed glance landed on Vonster deflating his bravado a notch.

Vonster scoffed. "Respect? Come on, Mercy, lighten up. We're all, like, totally prepared. Besides, haven't you heard? The bigger the risk, the better the footage!"

Bernadette shot him a withering look. "And the bigger the chance of ending up as a cautionary tale for future vloggers."

Vonster waved her dismissively. "Don't be such a downer, Badet!  We'll be fine. We have a plan, right?" He looked expectantly at Aaron, who was staring thoughtfully into the fire.

Aaron finally spoke. "Yeah, we have a plan, Von. But plans can change in the wilderness. We need to be adaptable, listen to our instincts, and most importantly, respect the mountain, even if it means stepping outside our comfort zones."

Mark, ever the leader, watched his team with a sense of pride. Blackwood Mountain, with its beauty and its whispers of danger, was the perfect setting for their project. He raised his hand, silencing the excited chatter.

"Alright everyone," he said, his voice ringing with confidence, "Let's get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow, we will capture the magic of Blackwood Mountain on film!"

A chorus of agreement rose from the group. As they settled into their tents for the night, the stars began to emerge, painting a dazzling scenery  across the inky black canvas of the sky.

Little did they know, the darkness held secrets far more terrifying than any local legend.

***

The insistent tug of nature pulled Reyn from her sleep. Grabbing her flashlight, she unzipped the tent and stepped into a night thicker than ink. Behind a nearby tent, a figure detached itself from the shadows and melted deeper into the woods. A primal instinct flared in Reyn's gut, urging her to follow.

She crept forward, the oppressive silence broken only by the frantic thudding of her pulse. Not a single cricket chirped, a sound usually as constant as her own heartbeat. The forest held its breath, waiting. Twenty yards in, a crunching of leaves ripped through the quiet.

Reyn whipped around, the flashlight beam cutting through the darkness. It landed on the figure she'd seen earlier, bathed in a sliver of moonlight. He was broad-shouldered, his features obscured by shadow. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig sent a jolt through her. With only a flimsy hunting knife as her protection, she braced herself for whatever might unfold.

Reyn spun on her heel, the forest floor crunching under her retreat. Panic gnawed at her to break into a run would scream "guilty," yet she couldn't shake the feeling heavy footsteps echoed behind her.

Trapped between flight and pursuit, she maintained a forced pace, her hand gripping the useless weight of the hunting knife.

The walk back was a silent torture, the weight of her secret a suffocating cloak. Back at camp, sleep refused to come. Every rustle of leaves in the wind sent her heart hammering against her ribs.

Dawn brought a harsh light, revealing the toll the night had taken. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, her hand trembled with fatigue.

"Rough night?" Aaron's voice cut through the fog clouding her mind, his concern a welcome intrusion into the turmoil in her head.

She forced a smile, but her gaze flickered across the campsite, landing on Primitivo emerging from his tent. Her breath hitched as she recognized the jacket he wore the same one from the figure last night. His face, however, was an unreadable mask. Did he recognize her?

Suddenly, Primitivo stopped mid-stride, a cryptic phrase escaping his lips, "Dreams may be real, as reality may be a dream." He hadn't spoken a word during the entire hike yesterday, and now this cryptic message. Was he toying with her, or did his words hold a deeper meaning?

"Hey, are you even listening?" Aaron's hand connected with a sharp crack, snapping Reyn from her daze. She whipped her head around, searching for Ashton, but he was gone.

"Did you hear what Lopez said?" she asked Aaron, her voice barely a whisper.

"Are you losing it? It's just the two of us here." Aaron's brow furrowed in concern.

A cold dread seeped into Reyn's bones. Was it just her imagination earlier?

"You're probably on drugs, lass. He's in our tent, still asleep." Aaron's words held a hint of exasperation.

"Wake up those still sleeping, we'll start after breakfast."

Mark's voice pulled her back to the campsite routine. She joined him at their makeshift table, but every stolen glance towards Primitivo sent a jolt of nervous energy through her.

Despite the chatter and activity around him, he seemed enveloped in an unsettling silence. He hadn't spoken a word since yesterday's hike, and now his very presence felt like a tangible threat.

Their breakfast went smoothly on the surface, yet a thick tension hung in the air. Aaron playfully adjusted a strap on her costume a flimsy fairy getup that felt a million miles away from the reality gnawing at her.

"Take one and action!"

Mark's voice jolted them into action. Their first scene began, where they were supposed to marvel at their surroundings and suddenly time would freeze, rendering them immobile.

"Hey Guys, wake up! wake up!" Vonster shook his teammates, pretending they are immobile.

Only Vonster could move. As Reyn waited behind a tree for her cue, the memory of the figure in the woods flashed before her eyes, the same jacket Primitivo wore now. It was more than a coincidence. Something wasn't right with him, and she was determined to find out what.

Mark's signal, a barely perceptible flicker of his hand behind the camera, sent a jolt through Reyn. She emerged from her hiding spot, fingers brushing through her hair in a practiced gesture. A rare, saccharine smile bloomed on her face, utterly at odds with her usual demeanor.

"W-who are you?" Vonster stammered, his voice choked with a mix of fear and confusion. Merciline had emphasized realism, and for a moment, the line between acting and genuine terror blurred.

She didn't answer, instead gliding closer to him and extending a palm. Ezekiel responsible for special effects, would handle the ethereal dust she supposedly held. He'd assured her it would appear as such on camera.

"Infinite in mystery is the gift of the Goddess," she intoned, her voice laced with an unsettling theatricality that scraped against her nerves. "We seek it thus, and take to the sky. Ripples form on the water's surface. The wandering soul knows no rest."

Vonster remained speechless, his wide eyes locked on hers. She offered him another saccharine smile, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning in her gut. "Come and follow me, Son of Adam," she whispered, and to her surprise, Vonster fell into step beside her without a word.

"Cut!" Mark's voice broke the spell. Relief washed over Reyn as the scene ended. "Good job everyone, let's change locations."

Andrew approached her, chatter spilling from his lips as usual. She took the clothes he offered and retreated to the tent to change.

As she folded her costume, the memory of Primitivo's enigmatic presence earlier gnawed at her. His silence, the strange jacket it was all a little too coincidental.

Fear, sharp and cold, prickled at her skin. She had to find out what Primitivo was hiding, not just for the sake of the film, but for her own sense of safety.

*****

They shoot in different locations capturing the very essence of the beautiful scenery, the two rangers are silently following them and ensuring their safety.

After a few minutes of rest . .

"Alright everyone, pack it up!" Mark announced, his voice booming across the campsite. The scene was done, and the crew bustled around, dismantling equipment and packing supplies. "Let's move to the next location and find our next campsite."

As they dismantled the equipment, Pearl and Bobby reappeared, their earlier sternness replaced by a cautious curiosity.

"Found a potential spot for your next scene, Mark," Bobby announced, pulling out a worn map of the area. He unfolded it on a nearby rock, his finger tracing a path towards the east. "See this meadow here?" His finger landed on a patch marked with vibrant green, bathed in the last rays of the sun setting over the mountain.

A collective gasp rippled through the group. The map depicted a sprawling meadow, just like Bobby described, with a winding stream marked in glistening blue.

"Wow, that's amazing!" Mark exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with inspiration. "Looks like a perfect spot for our fairies to frolic."

Pearl and Bobby exchanged a worried glance. Pearl cleared her throat. "That meadow lies just beyond that ridge, folks. See that structure marked there?" Her finger pointed towards a small, crumbling icon on the map, positioned at the edge of the meadow. "That's Blackwood Manor. Been abandoned for years."

A shiver ran down Reyn's spine. The name sent a jolt of recognition through her it was the same place Primitivo had vanished into the night.

"Is it safe to film there?" Bernadette asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bobby tapped the map with a grimace. "Blackwood Manor itself shouldn't be a problem. But listen close. This meadow is roughly a thirty-minute walk from here, and the terrain gets tricky. Steep inclines, loose rocks, not exactly a walk in the park."

He traced a thin red line on the map, extending beyond the manor icon. "Now, beyond here…" His voice dropped to a low murmur. "That's the real danger zone of Blackwood Mountain. Uncharted territory with well, things best left undisturbed."

Mark, oblivious to the tension, rubbed his hands together. "Intriguing! We can use the manor as our base camp for the night. Film the meadow scene tomorrow, then maybe explore the outskirts of the danger zone for some establishing shots!"

Reyn's heart hammered against her ribs. The meadow was their designated filming location, but the abandoned manor, looming ominously on the ridge, now presented a new challenge. It was a potential haven from the elements, but also a gateway to the forbidden zone.

A silent plea flickered in Pearl's eyes as she met Reyn's gaze. The ranger's unspoken warning hung heavy in the air.

As the crew began packing their equipment, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over Reyn.

The beauty of the meadow offered a chance to film their fantastical scene, yet the ominous Blackwood Manor and the danger zone beyond whispered of secrets and potential threats. With a determined glint in her eye, Reyn decided to confront these mysteries head-on.

To be continued . . .

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