The earlier storms had quieted, leaving a thick mist in its wake. Sage pulled her sweater closer and followed the dimly lit path around the Estate’s perimeter, fireflies dancing in and out of existence around her. She frowned slightly. It’d been a while since she’d been in the Midwest, but it seemed too early in the season for them, especially this far north.
She stopped; the building at her side, vanished.
Shivering, Sage glanced around, the light trickling out from windows also gone. The garden hadn’t seemed all that large when she’d explored earlier—mostly plants and a few out-buildings, including the other studio right along the property’s edge on the shore of Lake Superior. This, though. This felt like she’d accidentally stumbled into another world entirely.
Sage pressed forward, following the path, branches tugging at her, silence hanging heavy. Little shadows danced in the corner of her eyes, and she blinked them away. Fatigue—she had to just be tired, the weight of everything hitting her at once.
In the distance, a light flicked in and out of existence.
“Finally,” Sage breathed and stumbled through some bushes.
A dark figure waited.
Sage froze, shivers shooting up her arms. Water trickled from the murky darkness, and she inched backward. The figure didn’t stir, and a low, relieved breath snaked loose from Sage’s mouth, her shoulders relaxing.
A statue—it was only a statue.
“Fucking hell,” Sage muttered at herself. Of course it was just a statue.
It looked like an angel, two wings extending behind. One hand was outstretched in welcome, the other clutching a bowl of water, which overflowed into a serene pond.
She must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere, split from the main path. Sage turned to leave—
What felt like fingers trailed the back of her neck.
“Sage.”
A voice—a man’s voice—so faint it sounded like a whisper.
She jumped, whipping around. “Who’s there?”
That didn’t sound like any of the other contestants. Even if she hadn’t spent much time with them yet, she’d recognize their voices at this point. It could’ve been one of the attendants or a groundskeeper, but it was late. Too late for most to wander around.
The only response was the distant cacophony of croaks, the mist seemingly lessening.
Trembling, Sage hurried back the way she came, the path twisting in on itself in an increasingly spiraled fashion. She wiped a thin layer of sweat from her forehead and followed a different path into a clearing, the two detached buildings looming in the darkness ahead.
* = This is not the story’s final title
Representation: Fabienne Schwizer at Ki Agency