Fort Oakley | Part One

26 | Tree Hugging 101 (Cult Edition)

I woke to the feeling of rough bark against my back, my arms and legs bound so tightly it felt like my circulation had been cut off. My mouth was dry, but the cloth tied around it ensured that no sound louder than a muffled cry could escape. My head pounded, my vision blurry at first, but it cleared to reveal flames licking the forest floor in intricate spirals. The fire wasn't close enough to burn me but close enough to feel its oppressive heat, and the smoke clogged my lungs.

I was in a clearing I didn't recognize, surrounded by an orange glow as the flames twisted upward. My heart raced as I scanned the area. Beyond the fire in the distance, I saw them: the cult. They stood in a half-circle, cloaked in dark robes, faces obscured by their eerie masks. Their stillness made my skin crawl. Not a single movement, not even the tilt of a head. They were just... staring. At me.

And I realize that what I was seeing right now was exactly what I have been having nightmares about all these years.

I had been remembering my initiation ceremony.

All these years, when I thought I would never remember, I had been reliving that night every time I went to sleep.

Tears welled in my eyes as I pulled against the ropes. Panic clawed at my chest. I screamed into the gag, but it only came out as a muffled whimper. I didn't want to die.

I didn't want to die.

The cult's silence was deafening until one figure broke from the circle, walking toward me. Her robe was different, adorned with intricate patterns that glinted in the firelight.

Alma Rowe. Claire's mother.

She stopped a few feet away, her eyes scanning me with cold detachment. "Claire should be here tonight," she said, her voice carrying over the crackle of the flames. "But she ran. She couldn't bear to see this." Alma tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. "Foolish girl. She'll end up just like her sister."

I froze. Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. What did she mean? Claire had a sister?

Alma didn't elaborate. Instead, she retrieved a small glass bottle from within her robe. The liquid inside was black and watery. She began murmuring in a language I didn't recognize, her eyes closed as she sprinkled the liquid over me.

I thrashed, desperate to get away form the cold liquid, but the ropes wouldn't budge. Alma stepped back, her chanting fading as she rejoined the circle. The other cult members began to murmur, their voices a low hum that grew steadily louder, surrounding me in a haunting symphony.

Then he appeared.

Elvin's father, dragging a bound and gagged Teri with him. Elvin trailed behind, his face hidden beneath his mask. My heart sank as I saw Teri. She was crying, her eyes wide with terror, and I screamed against my gag, shaking my head frantically.

Elvin's father shoved Teri to the ground in front of me. "The ceremony will commence once the first sacrifice is made to the vessel," he told Elvin.

I didn't understand what he meant until he pulled out a knife and plunged it into Teri's chest without even hesitating. Her scream was cut short, and blood spilled onto the forest floor. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't.

Tears streamed down my face as he collected her blood, dipping his fingers into it to draw a symbol on my forehead. The metallic scent filled my nostrils, and bile rose in my throat.

When he was done, he stepped back, and Elvin took his place. Elvin removed his mask, revealing his face. There was a vacant look in his eyes, a fanaticism that sent a chill down my spine. He held a bone knife similar to the one I'd seen in the box of Claire's parents' things.

"You know, Charly, I never really cared for all the rules and ceremonies we have. All the rituals," Elvin shrugs. "It's a waste of my time, really. But this? How I get to prepare you for Oktia? This I really like."

He steps closer to me, his breath washing over my face.

"Our offspring will be true children of Oktia," he whispers, his voice calm but dripping with something that made my skin crawl.

He used the knife to cut my shirt open, exposing my skin to the night air. My heart pounded as he leaned in, placing kisses down my stomach. I felt sick, every fiber of my being recoiling from his touch. The chanting grew louder, the sound echoing in my skull. Elvin seemed lost in a trance as he traced symbols onto my arm with the blade, each cut shallow but stinging.

"These symbols represent rebirth, Charly. Purification. And they will make you worthy of harboring the spirit of Oktia once more." He presses the blade deeper into my skin, and I feel a trail of blood making its way down my arm.

Please stop, I begged him, my voice breaking, but I couldn't speak.

Then I felt it.

The ropes around my arms and legs loosened slightly, just enough to give me hope. I heard the faint rustling of leaves behind me. Someone was there.

Elvin was too focused to notice as I slipped a hand free and grabbed the knife from him. Without thinking, I drove it into his shoulder. He screamed, stumbling back, and I kicked him as hard as I could, sending him sprawling to the ground. I didn't wait to see what happened next.

I ran.

The forest was a blur as I pushed through branches and leapt over roots, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. The chanting behind me turned to shouts, and I knew they were coming after me. I wiped at my forehead, smearing Teri's blood away as tears blurred my vision.

Elvin's voice rang out, furious. "Charly!"

I didn't stop. I couldn't. But he caught up to me, tackling me to the ground. The impact knocked the wind out of me, and before I could recover, he flipped me onto my back, pinning me beneath him.

The smell of burnt flesh invaded my sense, and I saw that the side of his neck and jaw had been burned. He had probably fell into the fire when I kicked him away.

"You can't escape your destiny," he hissed, his face twisted with rage.

He reached down, unbuttoning my jeans, his hands trembling with anticipation. I screamed, thrashing beneath him, but he was too strong. Then there was a sharp crack, and Elvin's body went limp, collapsing on top of me.

I pushed him off, looking up to see a mixed-race woman standing over us, holding a gun.

"Name's Yvonne," she said, her voice steady. "I'm with Vance."

Relief flooded through me as I scrambled to my feet. "Thank you," I managed to choke out.

She nodded, her eyes scanning the forest. "Run. They're closing in."

I hesitated, glancing back at her. "What about you?"

"Go!" she snapped.

I didn't argue. I ran, the sound of shouting and footsteps growing louder behind me. As I looked back, I saw the cult members swarming Yvonne, dragging her to the ground. She struggled, firing her gun until they wrestled it away. Her screams pierced the air as they dragged her away.

"No!" I cried, but I didn't stop running. Gunfire echoed through the trees, and I prayed that whoever was shooting was on my side. My legs burned, my lungs screaming for air, but I didn't stop. I couldn't.

How many more people would die because of me? How many more lives would the cult destroy before this nightmare ended?