the call beyond

Nathaniel stood frozen, his breath visible in the cold air, staring at the carved initials on the old oak tree. The message—*"Find me"—*seemed to pulse with an urgency he couldn't ignore. His mind raced, but every logical part of him screamed that this was impossible. He hadn't been here in over a decade, not since the night his brother had vanished. So how could this be? The initials, the handwriting—he hadn't made those marks since they were kids.

He reached out a trembling hand, his fingers brushing against the rough bark, and for a brief moment, it felt like his brother's presence was right there with him. The air seemed to vibrate with something unseen, something heavy that pressed against his chest, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.

"Nathaniel…"

The voice was clearer now, and his heart skipped a beat. It came from somewhere deeper in the woods, almost as if the trees themselves were whispering his name. The sound was distant but unmistakable, laden with an emotion he couldn't place. Was it hope? Fear? Desperation?

He swallowed hard and stepped away from the tree, his mind still reeling from the sight of the message. The woods around him were eerily quiet now, the rustling of the wind through the branches the only sound breaking the heavy stillness. His breath misted in front of him, the chill sinking deep into his bones, but he couldn't shake the pull to keep moving forward. It was like a thread inside him, tugging him deeper into the heart of the woods, drawing him toward something he wasn't ready to face.

As he ventured further, the path grew narrower, the trees closing in like silent witnesses. The whispers started again, soft at first, but then louder, overlapping like a chorus of voices calling out to him from all directions. Some of the voices were his brother's—he could hear the familiar tone, the way his brother had said his name when they were young, when they were inseparable. But then there were other voices too—voices of people he didn't recognize, some faint, others sharp with an edge of desperation.

"Nathaniel…" one of them crooned, its voice high-pitched, distorted.

"You should never have come back…"

"You must find me before it's too late…"

Each voice seemed to wrap around him, growing louder, pressing in on him, until he could barely think through the haze of sound. He staggered forward, unsure of where he was going, but his legs moved as if on their own accord. Every instinct told him to turn back, to flee, but the pull was overwhelming, an insistent force that kept him moving.

The trees around him seemed to shift, their shapes twisting and warping as though they were alive, their branches reaching out like skeletal hands, clawing at him. The path ahead grew darker, the shadows thickening until they seemed to swallow the light, leaving him in a cocoon of blackness.

He stopped. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he stared into the void, the whispers fading into an unnatural silence. The air grew heavier, thick with the sense of something watching him, something waiting. Nathaniel's pulse quickened, and he felt the familiar sting of fear crawling up his spine. His brother's voice had been the last thing he'd heard, and now it felt so far away, almost as if it were coming from another world.

The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating, and then—a snap. A twig breaking somewhere behind him.

Nathaniel whipped around, his heart hammering in his chest. His breath came in ragged bursts as he scanned the darkness, his eyes struggling to adjust to the lack of light. But there was nothing there, just the oppressive shadows, the forest closing in on him.

It's just the wind. It's just the wind, he told himself, but the words felt hollow, empty. The dread in his gut grew stronger with each passing second, and he felt the presence of something just beyond his reach.

"Nathaniel…"

It came again, so close now, so familiar. His brother's voice—he would know it anywhere. The words wrapped around his name like a cold, invisible hand, and they echoed in his ears, pulling him toward the source. It was coming from deeper in the woods. He couldn't stop himself. He had to follow it. Had to see where it was coming from.

As he pushed forward, the ground beneath him seemed to shift, the earth unstable and treacherous. His shoes sank slightly into the damp soil, the leaves crunching underfoot. The trees around him began to close in tighter, their twisted limbs arching overhead like a canopy of ancient, gnarled fingers. The whispers rose again, swirling around him, becoming indistinguishable from one another. They were all calling his name, pleading for his attention, drowning out his thoughts with their urgency.

But one voice stood out among the others. One voice he couldn't ignore.

"Nathaniel…" It was his brother's voice, but it was no longer the carefree, youthful sound he remembered. It was strained, desperate, filled with a pain that twisted his gut. "Please… you have to…"

Nathaniel's breath hitched. He had to be close now. He could feel it in his bones, the air heavy with the weight of the unseen, the unknown. He pushed forward, his heart thudding louder with each step.

And then he saw it—a flicker of movement in the corner of his vision. He froze, his breath caught in his throat. In the distance, through the trees, he could see a shape. At first, it was just a silhouette, but as he strained his eyes, he made out the outline of a figure—a person, standing just beyond the reach of the light.

"Jesse?" Nathaniel called out, his voice cracking, the name tumbling from his lips before he could stop it. The figure didn't respond. It didn't move, but Nathaniel knew—he knew—it was his brother.

His pulse raced as he took a tentative step forward, his feet heavy with the weight of what was to come. His brother's figure remained still, as if frozen in time, but there was something about the way the shadows clung to him that felt wrong—unnatural.

"Nathaniel…" the voice came again, more insistent now, strained with emotion. "Help me…"

It was the voice he had always known, but it was different now—broken, tortured. Nathaniel's legs felt weak beneath him, but he forced himself to move. Every step forward was a battle against his own fear, against the warnings he had ignored. He had to know. He had to understand.

The figure in the distance remained motionless, but it was no longer the comforting sight he had hoped for. It was wrong. It was twisted, a faint outline of his brother, but it seemed to flicker, distort with each passing second, as if the very fabric of reality was stretching around it.

"Nathaniel…" The voice again, but this time it was a rasp, jagged, and broken. The figure's face came into sharper focus, and Nathaniel's breath caught in his throat.

It wasn't his brother.

It was something else.

The face was pale, too pale, its features sunken and hollow, eyes wide open but empty. The smile it wore was wrong, too wide, stretching impossibly far across its face. And yet, through the horror of the vision, he could see a faint, familiar resemblance—a twisted mockery of his brother's face. It was as though the forest had taken his brother and twisted him into something else, something that no longer belonged to the world of the living.

Nathaniel froze, unable to move, unable to speak. His heart raced in his chest as the figure reached out toward him, its arms elongated, too long, too thin, the fingers stretching toward him with an unnatural grace.

"Come closer, Nathaniel…" the thing rasped, its voice low and guttural now. "You know you want to…"

And in that moment, Nathaniel realized, with a cold and horrifying clarity, that he had made a terrible mistake by coming back.

This wasn't his brother.

It never had been.