The fog swallowed the red-jacketed child's figure in a matter of seconds.
Raka ran after her.
“Rania!”
There was no answer.
He entered a narrow road leading toward the edge of the village. Trees were beginning to grow thicker on both sides of the road.
Wening Forest.
Raka stopped right in front of the forest boundary.
There was no fence.
No gate.
Only two massive tree trunks standing like pillars, with an old wooden sign between them.
The writing on the sign had almost faded away.
**DO NOT ENTER THE FOREST AFTER SUNSET.**
Beneath it was smaller writing.
**DO NOT ANSWER IF SOMEONE CALLS YOUR NAME.**
Raka stared at the words for a long time.
He took out his camera and photographed the sign.
The camera screen flickered.
For an instant, Raka saw something among the trees.
A woman stood deep inside the forest.
Her hair was long.
Her clothes were white.
“Rania?”
The figure did not move.
Raka stepped forward.
Suddenly, a voice came from behind him.
“Don’t go in.”
Raka turned around.
Laras stood several yards away.
“You followed me?”
“I knew you’d come here.”
Raka pointed toward the forest.
“I saw Rania.”
Laras shook her head.
“That wasn’t Rania.”
“I saw her face.”
“A face isn’t proof.”
“Then what’s in there?”
Laras approached the warning sign.
“Things that don’t want to be found.”
“Why is everyone afraid of this forest?”
“Because the forest remembers.”
Raka looked at her in confusion.
“Remembers what?”
“The people who’ve entered it.”
Laras touched the surface of the wooden sign.
“This forest used to be smaller. But after the Lost Night, its boundaries changed.”
“How did they change?”
“Everyone who enters sees a different path.”
Raka fell silent.
“Then how do you find your way out?”
Laras looked at him.
“Don’t follow anyone’s voice.”
“Even Rania’s?”
“Especially Rania’s.”
They returned to the village.
Raka walked beside Laras.
“I want to know about that night.”
“It’s not time yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because if you learn too much too soon, you might make a mistake.”
“What kind of mistake?”
“Trusting someone you shouldn’t.”
Raka stopped.
“Including you?”
Laras gave him a faint smile.
“I told you. Especially me.”
They arrived in front of Bu Sari’s roadside stall.
Bu Sari was closing the window when she saw them.
“Come in,” she said.
Raka and Laras sat down.
Bu Sari made them hot tea.
Raka asked immediately,
“Ma’am, what’s in Wening Forest?”
Bu Sari looked at Laras.
Laras slowly shook her head.
But Raka continued to wait.
Finally, Bu Sari said,
“There used to be seventeen families living near the forest.”
“And then?”
“On the night of July 17, 1996, seventeen children were taken into the forest.”
“For what?”
Bu Sari didn’t answer.
Raka looked at Laras.
“A ritual?”
Bu Sari tightened her grip on her cup.
“Don’t say that word.”
“Why not?”
“Because some things can hear their names when they’re spoken.”
Raka almost laughed, but the look on Bu Sari’s face made him stop himself.
“What happened next?”
“Only thirteen of the children came back the next morning.”
“What about the other four?”
Bu Sari looked at him.
“They were never found.”
A chill ran up the back of Raka’s neck.
“Who were they?”
Bu Sari shook her head.
“Their names were erased.”
“From where?”
“Every record.”
“Why?”
“Because they were no longer considered human.”
The room suddenly fell silent.
Laras lowered her head.
Raka watched her.
“Laras…”
“I was one of those seventeen children.”
Raka fell silent.
Bu Sari sighed.
“Laras came back that morning.”
“What did she see?”
Bu Sari looked at Laras.
The woman didn’t answer.
Raka waited.
Finally, Laras said,
“I saw someone die.”
“Who?”
“My father.”
Raka fell silent.
“He died inside the old church.”
“How?”
“He was murdered.”
“Who killed him?”
Laras looked at Raka.
“The villagers.”
Raka felt his chest tighten.
“Why?”
“They believed my father had failed to stop something.”
“What?”
Laras didn’t answer.
Suddenly, a child's voice came from outside.
“Sis Laras…”
Laras immediately went pale.
Bu Sari stood up.
“Don’t answer.”
The voice came again.
“Sis Laras…”
Raka walked toward the window.
Laras immediately stopped him.
“Don’t look.”
“Why not?”
“Because if you see it…”
She stared at Raka, fear written across her face.
“…it’ll know you remember now.”
Raka stopped.
“Remember what?”
Laras didn’t answer.
The child’s voice drew closer.
“Sis Laras…”
Then came a knock at the window.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Raka turned.
A child in a red jacket stood behind the glass.
The face was the same one he had seen earlier.
But this time, the child was smiling.
Then the child raised a hand and pointed toward the forest.
A small light could be seen among the trees.
Like a lamp shining from a house.
Laras whispered,
“House Number 17.”
Raka stared at the light.
“Does that house really exist?”
Bu Sari answered in a trembling voice,
“No.”
Then the light in the forest went out.
“That house only appears…”
She swallowed.
“…when someone is about to become the eighteenth person.”