I used to believe the world did a certain kind of thing: slow and predictable. Insurance forms, policy numbers, mileage photos, signatures, or dotted lines.

A world that could be measured, recorded, and archived. Before Etha disappeared, the strangest part of my life had been my divorce: a disaster, but nothing extraordinary, the kind of thing Americans go through every year.

 

Then my dream vanished, and nothing more was heard of it. Not the police, not the search teams, not my prayers, not even the empty bed I couldn’t get rid of.

But nothing, absolutely nothing, prepared me to find it under the floor of my sister’s new house.

After I lifted that first board and the cold, stale air hit my face, the world I knew vanished like a mask ripped off a ski.

The beam of my flashlight pierced the darkness, trembling in my hand. At first, I saw only grime, dust, and a patch of dirt.

Then the figure moved.

A small body.

A face I knew better than my own.

Etha

She screamed against the light, her eyelids fluttering like someone waking from a nightmare to an even worse reality.

Her cheekbones were high, her lips cracked, her hair longer than she remembered: tangled, dirty, plastered to her forehead. Metal handcuffs held her wrists, the chair bolted to a support beam. Her bare feet were black with dirt.

“Dad…” she whispered, her voice breaking into a single syllable. “Dad…”

My throat closed up. My body froze. I don’t even remember breathing.

“Daiel,” Laura whispered behind me, trembling. “Oh my God! Oh my God! Is that…?”

But I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t process anything except that my son—my sweet, silly, dinosaur-obsessed boy—was alive on my sister’s living room floor.

Lily grabbed my arm. Her little voice trembled. “See? Daddy, I told you so…”

I didn’t understand how I could sense anything. I didn’t care. I was already tearing up boards, throwing them aside, splinters cutting my palms. Laura screamed for 911, her voice trembling and broken. Lily was beside me, shaking, but refusing to look away.

“Ethaï, friend,” I said in a choked voice as I opened another plank, widening the opening. “Here I am. Right here.”

Her eyes filled with tears, silent, exhausted tears that trickled down the dirt from her face. Her body collapsed, a mixture of relief and terror in her eyes.

“Dad… don’t go,” he pleaded.

 

“I’m not going anywhere.”

I climbed down into the access space—barely high enough for me to sit upright—and my shoulders brushed against the beams as I crawled toward it. The cold earth soaked my jeans.

The smell of damp earth mixed with rusty metal and acrid sweat. Every insect that passed by me screamed: my son had been here. Not for a moment. Not by accident. For months.

Someone brought him here.

Every second I moved felt like I was wading through concrete, and the cold slowed my limbs. I reached him and cupped his face in my hands, my thumbs trembling against his dirty ski.

“I’ve got you,” I said. The words came out raw. “I’ve got you now.”

Her chest heaved with quiet sobs. She tried to jump toward me, but was startled when the handcuffs tugged at her arm.

“I’m going to get this off my chest,” I said.

The chair was bolted to the beam with a large industrial screw. The metal bracelet was tight, too tight; the ski under his wrist was reddened and chafed, with blisters in some areas.

Anger surged through me, burning and aimless. Who did this? Who brought it here? Why? And how did my sister notice something under her own house?

Police sirens blared in the distance.

“Dapiel!” Laura shouted from upstairs. “They’re here! The police are here!”

“Hurry up!” I shouted. “He’s chained up!”

Ethaï groaned at the noise. I wrapped my arms around him, irrevocably protecting him from everything, even the air.

“Dad,” she whispered again, almost inaudibly. “Please… don’t let them take me back…”

The words froze me. “Back to where?”

He didn’t answer. His eyes closed tightly.

The first officer crouched down at the opening. “Sir, we’re coming down now. Stay with the child.”

“You don’t say,” I thought, fighting the panic that threatened to tear me apart. They climbed down carefully, illuminating the confined space with flashlights. Their eyes widened at the sight of the chair, the bruises, the truth, too heartbreaking to ignore.

The officer spoke in a low voice. “Etha? My name is Officer Dopelly. We’ll get you out of here, okay, buddy?”

Ethaï stiffened and pressed me against his side. “Don’t let them take me.”

“No one will take you anywhere without me,” I said fiercely. “No one.”

It took bolt cutters and careful handling to remove it without aggravating the abrasions on her wrist. Officer Dopelly covered Etha’s shoulders.

The boy’s eyes scanned the dark entrance, his pupils dilated and his breath ragged. He clung to my shirt as if he believed he could disappear like him.

When the officers tried to remove him, he escaped and grabbed me by the neck.

No! Dad, please don’t let him…

“I’ll take it,” I said quickly.

The officers were incredulous. There was no discussion.

As I lifted Ethapí in my arms—his weight surprisingly light, as if I were carrying a bundle of hollow sticks—I felt his heart pounding frantically against my chest. He buried his face in my shoulder. His fingers dug into my skin.

I climbed out of the hole with him clinging to me, his small, trembling body under the harsh headlights of the police cars outside. Neighbors were already gathering on the quiet suburban street, drawn by the screams.

Lily stood on the porch, hugging herself. When she saw Ethaï, she sobbed softly. “Ethaï…”

She peered over my shoulder, her eyes confused and incredulous. “Lily?”

She was astonished. “I heard you,” she whispered. “I heard you crying.”

The paramedics guided us to the ambulance. Etha refused to let go of me, so they examined him while he remained in my lap. He moved away from someone who got too close.

She avoided looking strangers in the eye. When the paramedic touched her ankle to check the circulation, Etha shuddered so violently that she hit her head on my paw.

“It’s okay, buddy,” I murmured, holding him tightly. “Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

But the paramedics exchanged grim glances. The officer in charge asked Laura where she had bought the house, who had renovated it, and if she knew about the entry points on the floors.

Her voice trembled as she answered. 

She kept apologizing—to me, to Etha—even though she didn’t owe any apologies. She hadn’t taken any boy out of her house.

But someone had it.

Hours passed. Statements, photos, recordings of evidence. They sealed the house and kept us inside the ambulance until they arranged transport to the hospital. Etha wouldn’t let go of my shirt.

When they tried to put him on a stretcher, he shuddered, his eyes wide. “No! No! Not again! Dad! Dad!”

“I’m here,” I said, climbing onto the stretcher next to him. “I’m coming with you.”

She clung to me with desperate strength.

The paramedic nodded quietly. “It’s with you.”

Inside the ambulance, the sirens moaned, the lights flashed in the darkness. Etha pressed her face against my chest, her hands gripping the fabric of my shirt as if anchoring herself to reality.

Lily sat safely with Laura in the second car behind ours, though I could still see her small face framed in the rear window, her eyes huge and blinking.

The hospital was a whirlwind of corridors, questions, and tests. They examined Etha, and I sat beside her on the examination table, my hand wrapped around hers. She only let go of my shirt when she fell asleep from exhaustion.

A doctor took me aside.

Mr. Harper… we will run blood tests and a full evaluation, but physically you appear malnourished and dehydrated. There are signs of prolonged restriction.

Some old bruises. We need to consult with pediatricians and orthopedists. It will take time.

I was surprised, but the words barely registered. My mind was preoccupied with something else: when Etha had said, “Don’t let them take me back.” Back to where? With whom?

And why was he here of all places?

I waited by her bed until she woke up. Her eyes opened wide, glazed with confusion.

“Dad?” His voice broke. “Is this real?”

“It’s real,” I said. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Her mind trembled. Tears welled up again. “You found me…”

 

“Yes,” I whispered, brushing against her tangled hair. “Yes, I did it.”

She let out a shaky, broken sigh. Her next words were barely audible.

“She knew you would come.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Who?”

He swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on the door, as if afraid someone might hear him. “The lady who put me there.”

A chill ran through me. “Etha… who was she?”

She hugged me, snuggling up to me. “She said no one would hear me. But Lily did.”

Suddenly the room felt smaller and the walls closed in.

I crouched down beside the bed, lowering my voice. “Etha… Did you know her? Did she hurt you? Do you know her name?”

She hesitated. Her lips parted. Her breath trembled.

“He said…” She swallowed, her voice trembling with each syllable. “He said he was going to bring me back. That it was the right time.”

A chill ran down my stomach.

Return it?

Return to whom?

“What does that mean, friend?” I asked seriously

Etha’s eyes filled with terror.

“She said she was almost drugged with the other one.”

My blood ran cold. “The other one?”

He nodded slowly. “She said she had another child. And when she was done… she would bring him here too.”

His words hit me like a punch. I tried to contain the growing pressure, but my voice broke.

—Etha… When was the last time you saw her? How long ago?

He looked nervously at the ceiling tiles, as if he expected someone to crawl out of them.

“She came yesterday.”

My stomach turned.

Yesterday… I think she was still out there. Nearby

And if I had another child…

Another missing child.

Another victim.

Another secret under another floor

I stood there, my heart racing, pounding with fear and fury. Laura lived only fifteen minutes from my house.

The woman who accompanied me could have passed through my sister’s neighborhood yesterday. She could have seen us. She could have come back.

I looked back at Ethaï, small, fragile, trembling under the hospital blankets.

Police officers were at the door talking to the doctors.

A single thought throbbed in my mind:

This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

And whoever that woman was…

She was coming back.

PART II — The Woman Who Walked Through the Walls

The hospital room was dimly lit, illuminated only by a lamp above Ethaï’s bed. The machines hummed softly, the monitors flickered with heart rhythms too fragile, too slow for a child his age

I sat down in the rigid plastic chair next to him, with my elbows resting on my knees and my hands clasped so tightly that my thighs hurt.

I kept repeating his words.

She came yesterday.
She was almost drunk with the other one.
She said she’d bring him here too.

Each syllable rattled inside my skull like loose screws in a wobbly frame.

I was a detective, but even I knew what those words meant: there was another child somewhere, held by the same woman who had kept me awake at night.

Another child called to me as if Etha had been called. I heard another terrified voice calling me into the darkness.

Except that Lily had heard Etha.

Part of me refused to question that. Not now.

The door creaked open and Officer Dopelly walked in. He looked tired: dark circles under his eyes, a clenched jaw, and stiff shoulders beneath his uniform. He closed the door behind him, lowering his voice.

“Mr. Harper,” he said. “We need to ask Etha some questions.”

I stood up immediately, blocking his path to the bed. “Not tonight.”

 

He hesitated. “Daiel… the sooner we have information, the sooner we can track down who did this.”

“I didn’t say anything tonight.” I kept my voice low but firm. “He’s exhausted. He’s traumatized. He’s barely spoken. You’re not going to interrogate him at two in the morning.”

Dopelly rubbed his face with one hand, lost in thought. For a moment I thought he was going to argue. But then he sighed.

Okay. Tomorrow morning. Early. We’ll bring a child psychologist. Just… be prepared.

He glanced sideways at Ethaï, who was still asleep and curled up on the side of the bed closest to me, as if to make sure the child was real.

“We are conducting a thorough search of the property,” he added. “The forensic team is already there. The reconstruction company that worked on her sister’s house, Gaitli Construction, is reviewing its contracting records.”

My stomach sank. “Do you think the woman worked for them?”

“We don’t know,” Dopelly said cautiously. “But someone had to access the entry space while the house was open during the remodeling. The timing is convenient.”

Perhaps. But it seemed too easy to me. Too obvious.

Dopelly added, “We have issued a bounty on the head (BOLO) for a suspect, between her mid-twenties and mid-forties, based on Etha’s description, possibly connected to child abductions across the state. We are reaching out to neighboring counties to cross-reference missing persons reports.”

“Okay,” I said. “But it doesn’t matter if he moves the other child.”

He clenched his jaw. “We’re aware of it.”

She turned toward the door, but stopped. “If it’s any consolation… I’m glad your son is alive. Cases like this rarely happen.”

Alive.
Yes.

But being alive wasn’t the same as being safe

After Dopelly left, the silence around me grew thicker. Etha’s breathing stabilized to a soft, moaning rhythm. I reached out and smoothed her hair back, my fingers trembling. Her body relaxed slightly.

He trusted me again. That just devastated me.

On the other side of the room, Lily woke up. She had refused to sleep anywhere other than the same hospital room as her brother. She sat up, rubbing her eyes with her fists.

—Dad… is Ethaï okay now? —Her voice was small and sleepy.

I said slowly, “She’s safe, darling.”

She slid off the beach and walked toward the bed, gently climbing onto my lap. She looked at Etha, her expression gentle but worried. Then she placed a hand on her foot, which was covered by the blanket.

“She’s not afraid anymore,” he whispered.

I froze. “Can you hear it?”

She was surprised, as if it were obvious. “She stopped crying. Now she’s dreaming.”

A chill ran through my soul; it wasn’t fear of her, but fear of how real her words had become.

—Lily—I said hoarsely—, how did you hear it before? Upstairs?

She frowned, thinking. “It’s like… I heard it in my head. Not in my ears. Like I was humming.”

“Like I was humming,” I repeated softly.

She nodded again. “As if the house were sad.”

A cold shiver ran down my arms.

Before I could ask any more questions, a witness approached to take Ethaï’s vital signs. Lily clung to me. The monitors were beeping incessantly. Ethaï was asleep, aware of how many shadows surrounded him.

I didn’t sleep at all

Moriпg arrived too fast.

Police officers, doctors, social workers: an army of sympathetic and professional faces. Etha clung to my arm during the interrogation, squealing every time the psychologist got too close.

They kept their voices soft and patient, but each question seemed to bring out something painful in him.

“What was the woman like?”

Ethaï hesitated, her voice barely audible. “She had dark hair. Long. Like… like a curtain. I’d never seen her face.”

How old was she? Was she tall? Short?

“I don’t know.”

“Did she hurt you?”

Silence

A small whisper: “Not at first.”

I got a lump in my throat.

“What was his name, Ethaï?”

He shook his head. “Did she ever say that?”

What did he say about the other child?

Her eyes were filled with terror. “That he was crying too much. And she didn’t like it. She said it was curing him.”

“Fixing?” The psychologist’s voice sharpened slightly. “Fixing what?”

Ethaï squeezed my hand until tears came to my fingers. “She said she also heals children.”

My stomach lurched.

The psychologist spoke first. “Etha… did he ever tell you why he brought you there?”

Ethaï swallowed. “He said that Dad wasn’t showing up anymore. He said that he was gone too.”

My vision blurred. I didn’t cry, but guilt swelled like a bruise under my ribs.

“Friend,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I never stopped looking at you. Never.”

She looked at me, she really looked at me, seeing something she hadn’t allowed herself to believe until now. Her lip was trembling.

“You’ve come,” he whispered.

I pulled him into my arms while the officers and the psychologist watched in silence

Yes. I came. And now I wasn’t going to let him go for a second.

But the questioning was not over.

Later, a detective named Ruiz informed me about the new facts.

Short, sharp, o-o-se-se. He behaved like someone who hadn’t slept in years.

“Mr. Harper,” he began, “we’ve searched the rest of your sister’s house. There are no signs of further alterations or other hidden places.”

And the chair? The restraints? Someone installed them.

“We found tool marks that were used by a single person doing the work,” Ruiz said. “Small construction site, not a professional. No fingerprints.”

“What’s happening with the renovation team?”

“Of course,” he said. “None of them have criminal records. They swear they once worked in that section of the floor.”

“So he did it after the renovation?”

Ruiz was surprised. “Most likely.”

“How the hell was I going to get into my sister’s house?”

His expression turned grim. “We found something else.”

He took out his phone, swiped to a photo, and handed it to me.

A damaged window latch. Downstairs bathroom. A small hole just big enough for a sleeping adult to squeeze through.

“Epitry point,” Ruiz said. “It was probably used multiple times.”

My breath caught in my throat.

“Was he at the house more than once in the office?”

“We think so.”

The thought of a stranger going up to my sister’s house, to the space where my hat was hidden, made bile rise in my throat

“Why your house?” I asked. “Why there?”

Ruiz crossed her arms. “Your sop was taken exactly one year ago this week. Two months after your divorce. Seven months after your sister made an offer on the house.”

“Are you saying that’s hidden?”

“We are saying that it is suspicious.”

My pulse quickened. “Are you implying that Laura had something to do with…?”

“No,” Ruiz interrupted quickly. “Your sister isn’t a suspect. There’s no evidence linking her to it. But someone knew the house was empty before she moved in. Someone knew how to access the entry space.”

Someone put this there.

Someone was watching.

Someone was waiting

Before I could ask anything else, my phone vibrated. A message from Laura:

CALL ME AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. IT’S URGENT.

My heart sank.

I went out into the hallway and dialed. She answered on the first ring.

“Dapiel?” Her voice trembled. “You have to come to my house. Right now.”

“Laura, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Lily.”

Ice pierced my eyes

“And what about her?” I asked.

She’s acting strangely. Really strangely. She says she heard something strange again.

My lungs seized up.

“Leave her outside,” I said.

Laura hesitated. “Dapíel… won’t leave the corner. He keeps saying there’s another child inside the house.”

My ski got cold.

“She says it’s not my house,” Laura added. “She says it’s your house.”

I couldn’t breathe for a moment.

“My house?” I repeated.

“Yes,” Laura said through tears. “Dariel… says, ‘He cries for Daddy. He cries from Daddy’s house.’”

My legs soon gave way.

A second child. Another hidden place.

At my house.

The voice buzzed in my ear as Laura waited for me to speak.

“Daiel…?” she whispered

But all I could see was the face of my missing loved one and the trembling words he had spoken:

She’s almost drugged by the other one.

I closed my eyes and whispered the only thing I could manage.

“I’m going home.”

The journey from the hospital to my house was like sailing through a nightmare in broad daylight

Ethaï stayed with the doctors under police guard. I didn’t want to leave him, but if what Lily said was true, another child was suffering—right now—perhaps on the verge of death, cornered in the darkness, just as my son had been tormented for twelve months.

And he was in my house.

My home.

The thought clawed at my sides.

I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my fingers bent. Every red light felt like an eternity. Every turn seemed slower than the last

When I arrived at the entrance, Laura was standing in front of my porch with Lily wrapped in a blanket in her arms. My daughter’s face was pale, her eyes glassy and focused.

She showed up at my house the moment she saw me.

“Dad,” she whispered, “is crying very, very loudly.”

My heart was pounding. “Where, darling?”

She pointed down.

“Underneath your floor.”

I didn’t wait. I ran to the door, fumbled around for my keys, and opened it so hard it slammed against the wall.

On the other side, the house was silent.

Too quiet.

The air felt strange, dense, heavy, humming with a vibration I couldn’t quite hear, but felt in my feet

“Where, Lily?” I asked without flinching.

He pointed toward the back hallway. “Near your bedroom.”

My bedroom.

I moved quickly, adrenaline burning like fire in my veils. I reached the end of the hallway, crouched down, and pressed my ear to the wood

Nothing.

The

Scraping. A soft knock.

A weak, muffled cry

My breath caught in my throat.

There was   someone   under my house.

Before panic could paralyze me, I ran to the garage, grabbed my crowbar, and went back to the hallway.

I lifted the first board from the floor.

Dust. Cold air. Darkness.

Laura’s voice trembled behind me. “Daiel, wait for the police.”

“No,” I said, climbing onto another board. “There’s no need to wait.”

Another soft cry was heard from above: the cry of a child.

A small child.

I jumped into the opening and shone my phone’s flashlight.

My stomach dropped

There was an excavated space beneath my own house: freshly turned earth, a makeshift chamber, roughly cut wooden beams.

And at the far end of the small excavated cavity…

A child. A child of about six or seven years old. Chained. Dirty.

Hunger.

Just like Etha.

Her voice trembled as she raised her head to the light

“Help me,” she whispered. “Please…”

My vision became blurry.

“What the hell-“

But before he could get down, something moved in the shadows behind the boy

A shape. A silhouette.

A figure crouching in the darkness.

Someone was down there

A woman’s voice rose, soft and chilling.

“You’re early, Dapiel.”

My blood ran cold.

“I wasn’t finished yet.”

PART III — The woman in the drag space

For a fraction of a second, everything around me stopped: my pulse, my breathing, my thoughts. Only that voice, coming from the darkness beneath my house, enveloping every corner of my being.

“You’re early, Dapiel.”

My name.
She knew my name.

I jumped over the opening, the lever so tight my palm ached. The flashlight beam flickered as it entered the access space.

The boy, chained to the beam, moaned softly and responded with a shriek.

Behind him, the silhouette moved with a natural slowness, as if someone were getting up from a crouching position or as if something were waking up.

I couldn’t see his face.

Only long, dark, straight hair, billowing like wet curtains around her head. She kept her head down, the shadow blurring her features. Her body was thin, thin, almost too thin, as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks.

But she was there. In my house. Above my apartment.

With another child.

My anger rose so fast I felt like I’d been punched in the chest

“Who the hell are you?” I yelled, my voice trembling.

She chuckled, or at least murmured. A soft, quiet, and somewhat broken breath, given the circumstances.

“That doesn’t matter,” he murmured from below. “What matters is that you had no intention of finding this person yet.”

My heart was beating strongly.

“Stay away from the child,” I said, gripping the crowbar like a weapon. “Right now.”

“You didn’t listen to me last time either.”

The words hit me like a slap in the face.

“What?” I whispered. “What the hell does that mean?”

She tilted her head, not fully, not enough for the light to reach her face, just a subtle glimmer. Her hair fell over her shoulders like a long, completely black sheet.

“Your son didn’t want to wait,” she whispered. “He kept calling. Crying. You couldn’t hear him, but she could.”

She.

My pulse quickened.

“Lily?” I said, my voice choked with emotion.

“Yes. That little one heard them both.”

My ski dragged.

“How do you know about my daughter?”

A soft rustling sounded beneath the house: the woman was approaching. I lifted the lever firmly.

“Do you think you’re the only one who can hear them crying?” he said in a low voice.

The child at her feet moaned even louder. He pulled at his chair, desperate, terrified.

I forced my voice so she wouldn’t move. “Ma’am, if you go any closer to that girl, I swear…”

She interrupted me with a silent sigh.

“You didn’t listen to me the first time,” he repeated. “So I had to make the sop longer. I had to make it longer.”

Rage flooded my chest.

“Fix it?” I roared. “You tortured him…”

“No,” she whispered sharply. “Fixing isn’t hurting. Hurting is what people do when they throw children in the trash.”

My breath caught in my throat.

“You took him,” I said through gritted teeth. “You stole him. You chained him up like an animal.”

“Better than what I expected,” she replied calmly. “Better than what you did.”

My grip on the lever faltered.

“What   did I do   ?”

“You stopped looking at me,” she said.

“Did I ever stop—”

“You moved out.”

“I didn’t—”

“You slept in your warm bed while he slept on the ground.”

Her voice was calm but sharp, piercing through every weak point of my guilt.

You forgot about him. So I kept him until he remembered how to cry for you again.

My stomach churned. My vision blurred.

—Shut up—I whispered.

She took another slow step forward, her movement wrong, her posture wrong, as if her limbs were at angles that a normal person’s wouldn’t be

“You should thank me,” she murmured. “Now you have him back. But I’m not fed up with the other one yet.”

The boy beside her was trembling violently, and tears were running down his dirty cheeks.

“Please,” she whispered to me. “Don’t let him do it again.”

“Shhh,” the hunched woman said, touching the boy’s hair with her fingers. “You’ll be perfect soon. He ruined the process by starting too early, but it’s not your fault.”

I threw up early.

“I’m going to call the police,” I said.

“No, you’re not.”

Her voice was so soft yet so confident that for half a second my hand froze where it was floating in my pocket.

“I closed the back door when I came in,” he whispered. “I know every corner of your house. I’ve been in here more times than you think.”

A chill tore my soul apart.

“Otherwise, how would I know where the little one is sleeping?”

Lily.

My blood ran light.

I turned around. “Laura, get Lily out of here. NOW!”

Laura grabbed Lily and stepped back, her eyes wide with terror. Lily stared into the hole, her small face pale and trembling.

“He’s lying,” I told them. “Go away.”

But Lily shook her head slowly.

“Dad,” he whispered, “she’s not lying.”

“What?”

Tears welled up in my daughter’s eyes.

“I saw her,” Lily whispered. “In my room. Last week. She was sitting on the floor, listening.”

My legs were weak.

The woman laughed softly and the soup rose like smoke.

She’s more open than you, Dapiel. She hears everything. She feels everything. That’s why she found the guy before you did.

I wanted to run down to the basement, tear that woman apart with my bare hands, but the opening was too small, too narrow. And the boy—God, the boy—was sitting right between us. One wrong move and I could hurt him.

Laura’s voice trembled behind me. “Daiel, the police are on your…”

Suddenly, a sharp metallic sound echoed in the access space.

The woman had grabbed the chair bolted to the beam and pulled it violently, dragging the child closer to her with alarming force.

The boy screamed.

“No!” I fell to my knees. “Let him go!”

“You can’t have this,” he whispered. “It’s not ready.”

“Let it go.”

“You’re early,” her voice trailed off again. “But I’ll forgive you.”

My breath got trapped in my throat.

Then he said something that took my breath away:

“I’ll let you trade.”

“What?” I said gruffly.

A pause. Heavy. Special

“Don’t you mind this?” she whispered softly, stroking the boy’s scalp with her fingers. “Good. I’ll take another one later. Who can hear better?”

My blood turned to ice.

“No,” I said. “No, you’re not…”

“I’ll take the girl,” he said calmly. “She’ll be fine.”

Everything outside of me broke.

I roared toward the opening, but before I could get down, the woman scurried back into the shadows, dragging the child with her. The chair rattled violently.

“No!” cried the boy. “Help! Help me!”

I pounded on the beams with my crowbar, powerless. “Let him go! Don’t touch my daughter!”

But she left. She went into the darkness.

Go deeper beneath the house through a passage I didn’t even know existed.

The child’s cries faded away, muffled by the dirt, the wood, and the incredibly twisted pipes.

“Dapíel!” Laura shouted, pulling Lily along. “We have to get out of the house!”

She was right.

Because the woman wasn’t betraying anyone.
She wasn’t running away

She was moving towards another goal.

She came to look for Lily.

“OUT!” I yelled. “GO AWAY!”

Laura grabbed Lily and ran out the front door. I followed, stumbling at first. Once outside, I slammed the door and backed away, my chest heavy and sweat running down my face

Lily clung to Laura’s neck, sobbing silently.

“She’s angry,” Lily whispered through tears. “She’s very angry.”

I stepped back from her, stroking her trembling face. “Honey, listen to me. He’s not fooling you. Not ever. Do you understand?”

Lily shuddered weakly, though her eyes remained open in terror.

The sirens were howling in the distance; several vehicles were heading toward us. I didn’t wait. As soon as the first patrol car screeched to a halt, I grabbed Officer Dopelly by the collar.

“He’s inside my house,” I gasped. “There’s another child… he dragged him away… he knows about Lily… he knows my name…”

Dopelly hugged me tightly. “Mr. Harper, calm down, we’re going to…”

“No!” I shouted. “Don’t worry, she’s still down there!”

The officers rushed inside with their weapons drawn. Detective Ruiz shouted orders in a high-pitched, authoritarian voice.

They quickly found the open floor, whose hole led to the access space. More agents arrived. Floodlights illuminated the exterior. They prepared to descend.

But Ruiz returned minutes later, looking pale.

“She’s fine.”

My stomach churned. “What do you mean by ‘go’?”

“There’s a tunnel,” Ruiz said. “An open shaft. Excavated with tools or… I don’t know. It leads down from the foundations and extends further than we expected. We still don’t know where it ends.”

The world bowed.

“He took the child,” Ruiz added in a low voice. “There’s no trace of him.”

A sigh escaped me, something between a cry and a curse.

“Apd Dapiel…” Ruiz said hesitantly. “We found something else.”

My pulse was beating painfully.

She held out a small sealed object inside an evidence bag.

My heart stopped.

It was a   hairband  . Pik.

Tipy.

From Lily.

I stared at him, a lump in my throat.

“It’s already played at your house,” Ruiz said quietly. “Several times.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“We’re going to find her,” Ruiz assured me. “But we need everything you know. Everything Etha knows. Everything Lily has heard.”

He listened.

My daughter was shaking violently in my arms as Ruiz walked away to coordinate the search

Lily whispered to my shirt:

“Dad… she’s very far away.”

“What do you mean?” I whispered to him.

Lily pointed towards the dark tree that was behind our house.

“She’s waiting.”

“Where?”

Lily swallowed. “She said she wanted to talk to you.”

My blood ran cold.

“Now?”

Lily moved slowly.

“She said… she’ll give you the child.”

My breath caught in my throat.

From the air, gently brought in from the forest—

A crying child.

PART IV — The Forest That Swallowed the Soul

The trees behind my house had always seemed harmless to me: those Ohio oaks and maples that stretched out to a modest patch of state-owned forest

A place where deer roamed at dusk, where Lily used to collect autumn leaves, where Ethaï used to pretend she was exploring the mapped territory of the dinosaurs.

But that night, under the heavy pressure of the cold air and the police spotlights illuminating the treetops, the forest felt strange. Depressed. Watching. Each branch seemed like a shadow emerging from the darkness.

And somewhere in that darkness…
A child was crying.

Not loud. Not agitated. Just steady: broken sobs that drifted out the window, tugging at some deep spot in my chest.

Ruiz raised his chip, listening. Dopelly stiffened beside him. The officers searched for flashlights and weapons.

But Lily grabbed my hand before I could move.

“Dad,” he whispered, “she doesn’t like the police.”

My heart skipped a beat. “How do you know?”

Lily’s voice trembled. “He told me. He said that if they come, he’ll take the child to a deeper place. Where we can’t find him.”

Ruiz listened, his expression tense. “Mr. Harper…”

“He’s not bragging,” I said. “He’s already dug tunnels in two houses. If he disappears into the woods with that girl…”

“She will disappear,” Ruiz finished sadly. “And so will he.”

The crying echoed again, this time clearer. A child’s voice: low, terrified, exhausted.

Dopelly looked at me. “What does he expect from you?”

The question weighed heavily on my lungs.

“She told Lily she wanted to talk,” I said. “With me. With Aloe.”

“Absolutely not,” Ruiz said. “We’re not going to let you go into the woods with a child kidnapper. She’s predictable. Dangerous.”

“He has a hostage,” I said. “And he’s waiting for a meeting. If we don’t give him what he’s waiting for, he’ll die.”

Ruiz paused.

The crying echoed through the trees once more.

That soup made the decision for me.

“I’m leaving,” I said.

“Daiel…” Ruiz grabbed my arm. “If she’s called your house several times, she knows your routines. Your vulnerabilities. She could have been watching you for months. You walking alone is exactly what she’s hoping for.”

“I have no choice.”

“Yes,” Ruiz said firmly. “We coordinated. We surrounded ourselves. We…”

“No,” Lily whispered.

Everyone turned around.

She clung to my hand, trembling

“He said there were no police.” Lily’s eyes filled with tears. “If he hears them… he’ll hurt the boy to make you stop.”

A cold chill ran through the officers.

Ruiz cursed under his breath.

I stepped away from Lily and brushed her hair away from her face. “Honey… is she watching us now?”

Lily’s lower lip trembled.

“It’s close,” he whispered. “But wait until you approach on your own.”

Dopelly cursed under his breath. “This is hell.”

“He knows Lily can hear,” I said. “He’s using that.”

“Or manipulate her,” Ruiz replied. “We don’t know what she’s capable of.”

I looked into Lily’s frightened eyes. She wasn’t confused. She wasn’t guessing. She   knew  …

Whether it was some strange intuition or something more…
She knew.

I stood up and confronted the officers.

“I’m coming,” I said. “Follow me at a distance. Don’t make any noise. Don’t get discouraged. If he hears you, he’ll get angry.”

Ruiz seemed tormented: officer versus human, protocol versus compassion. But after a long, tense moment, she calmed down.

—Fipe. But Dapie… if he comes near you, we’ll intervene. I don’t care what he’s waiting for.

I was astonished, although we both knew that an intervention could condemn the boy.

And maybe me.

I gripped Lily’s shoulders tightly. “Stay with Mrs. Laura. Don’t come after me.”

She nodded weakly. “Dad… be careful.”

I kissed her on the forehead and then walked into the woods.

The crying became clearer with each step.

The forest swallowed the world.

The temperature dropped dramatically as the branches closed in on me. The beam of my flashlight cut through the leaves and shadows, and the police lights behind me dimmed until they were completely absorbed.

Every crunch made my heart pound. Every rustle of the leaves beneath my boots was too loud.

Somewhere to my left, some twigs crackled. I froze.

Nothing.

The other soft sob.

“Hello?” I called softly. “I’m here.”

Silence. There’s a creaking sound.

Breathing, not mine, not the child’s. Someone else was in the dark

I pressed the flashlight harder.

“Where is he?” I asked, my voice trembling.

A whisper came from behind me.

“Closer than you think.”

I spit, the light sweeps away the shadows—

Nothing.

The branches swayed slightly, although they also moved.

“You came alone,” murmured the woman’s voice from somewhere visible. “Good.”

“I’m not alone,” I said. “The police are nearby.”

She laughed softly. “No, they’re nothing.”

My stomach churned. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” she said. “They simply chose the wrong direction.”

My heart stopped.

She had heard them moving through the woods. She had followed their footsteps better than they had followed hers.

“Go ahead,” he murmured. “Leave the light on!”

“No.” I kept the flashlight pointed outwards. “Show yourself.”

“Don’t expect that,” she whispered. “Not yet.”

I swallowed hard. “Where is the child?”

A soft moan reached my ears, this time from the right. I moved in that direction, slowly, the flashlight swaying with my steps.

“Stop.” Her voice broke off abruptly.

I froze.

“Turn down the lights.”

“It’s not happening.”

“He’s afraid,” she said, crouching down. “The light hurts his eyes. He’s so lost in the group… he only knows the darkness.”

A new sob echoed: raw, small, real.

My chest sank.

Slowly, very slowly, I crouched down and placed the flashlight on the ground, turning it so that it illuminated a wide section in front of me.

“Now walk away from it,” he said.

I obeyed and stepped back three feet.

The forest absorbed most of the light. Shadows gathered among the trees, dense and shifting.

Something moved.

A small figure crawled to the edge of the light: a child, dirty and trembling, dragging a chair tied to his ankle. His face was smeared with dirt and tears. His wrists were red and raw

He could not have blown the whistle more than seven times.

He saw me and backed away terrified, expecting to feel pain.

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’m here to help you.”

He shook his head violently. “She said she didn’t want to see you.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said seriously. “I promise.”

Behind him appeared a thick, pale hand, resting on his shoulder.

The woman barely reached the edge of the light.

It wasn’t enough to see her face in its entirety, only her long dark hair, her limbs, and her bare feet covered in mud.

Her posture was exaggerated, hunched over and twisted, as if she no longer knew how to stand upright.

—Dapíel —he said in a low voice—. You shouldn’t be here.

“I am exactly where I need to be.”

“You ruined my work,” she whispered. “Again.”

“That’s not work,” I whispered. “It’s torture.”

“Torture?” He almost offered. “No. It’s medicine.”

I shook my head. My voice cracked. “You’ve lost your mind.”

She didn’t react. She crouched down even further, positioning herself protectively behind the child.

“You’re early,” he said. “You’re always in a hurry. That’s why things get broken.”

My heart was pounding. “Let it go.”

“No,” her voice sharpened. “Etha wasn’t finished. She needed more time. More arrangements. This too.”

“What does that mean?” I asked. “Fixing   what  ?”

“Throughout the world,” he murmured. “He chews them up. He spits them out. The children wait too. The abandoned children. I find them. I fix them. I silence them.”

My ski dragged.

“Do you think taking a child to a group of friends is like not having children?”

He hissed softly, as if air were escaping from his teeth. “They stop hurting. They stop being disappointed. They stop expecting things. They stay still. Perfect.”

My stomach turned.

“You took them away from families who loved them.”

“They didn’t,” she whispered sharply. “If they had, the children wouldn’t be crying so loudly.”

My breath caught in my throat.

She believed it.
In fact, she believed she was saving them.

“What do you want?” I said.

She bowed her head. Her hair completely hid her face

“I wanted to finish,” she whispered. “But you keep interrupting. First, your son… open this.”

“You’ll never have another child,” I said. “Never.”

Her voice lowered.

“I’ll trade it to you.”

A pang of dread struck my chest

“Trade… what?”

“You take this,” he said, approaching the trembling boy. “I’ll take your daughter.”

My hands clenched into fists. “Absolutely nothing.”

“She hears them,” the woman hissed. “She understands them. She’s more open-minded than the others. She’s not ruined yet, but she will be soon. I can fix her before the world does.”

“Stay away from her,” I growled.

She stood up slowly, too slowly, and seeing her made me feel bile rise in my throat. She was incredibly thin. Her limbs were too weak. As if her joints ached. As if she’d spent years crawling through the trees instead of walking in broad daylight.

“Bring her to me,” the woman whispered. “I’ll let this boy go.”

“No.”

“I’ll keep it,” she said simply. “And I’m leaving. And you won’t see them again?”

Paic squeezed my lungs.

“You don’t love my daughter,” I said, my voice trembling. “You want to control her. You want to punish your parents.”

“I want to fix what you broke,” he said. “All of you.”

“This is how it is.”

She bowed her head again. “Do you think you decide that?”

I walked slowly between her and the faint sound of the police somewhere deeper among the trees.

“You’re not going with that boy.”

She smiled.

I didn’t see her lips.
But I felt them, like a ripple in the dark

“I’ve already done it,” she whispered.

I blinked—

And she was gone.

Just… go.
She backed away into the darkness, pulling the child along. The chair rattled in the office, the silence

“No!” I lunged toward the trees. “COME BACK!”

Nothing but darkness swallowed my voice.

“DAMN IT!” I yelled towards the forest.

I heard brushes ahead: footsteps. I ran for cover, my heart pounding so hard I could barely breathe. I pushed through brambles, tripped over roots, and slid through thorny bushes, ignoring the cuts that ripped across my arms.

The crying echoed faintly and then faded away.

They disappeared completely.

It was breaking the blind flow, following something but despair

Suddenly a hand grabbed my arm.

“Daiel!” Ruiz whispered, returning my kiss. “STOP!”

“He’s got him!” I shouted. “He’s getting away!”

“We know,” Ruiz said breathlessly. “We heard everything. But you can’t get past her. She’s moving under the radar.”

I froze. “What?”

Dopelly ran to his side, pale and trembling. “We found recent excavations. A trail of tufting just beyond the ridge.”

“He’s using the forest as a burrow,” Ruiz said. “He’s been digging in this place looking for moths. Maybe for years.”

My breath caught in my throat. “She’s taking it deeper.”

“Yes,” Ruiz said gravely. “And we’re going to look for her. But Dapiel… there’s something you need to see.”

“What?” I gasped.

Ruiz hesitated. “Your daughter… said something else.”

My blood ran cold. “What did she say?”

Ruiz swallowed hard.

“He said that the woman is not alone in the tunnels.”

My pulse stopped. “What?”

“He said,” Ruiz repeated slowly, “There are more voices down there. More cries. Not just the child’s.”

A wave of cold swept through me.

“How much longer?” I whispered.

Ruiz seemed discouraged.

“She said… doze off.”

My ears are tingling.

Dose.

Dozens of children crying underground. Children never found

Kids, someone had been “fixing” it for years.

Lily’s small voice trembled behind me as Laura led her to the clearing.

“Dad,” she whispered, “she’s very angry now.”

I crouched down, my voice barely breathing.

“Where is she?”

Lily went deeper into the woods.
Her hand was shaking violently

“She is waiting for you…
in the dark.”

And then he added something that left all the officers around us speechless:

“She says if you want the children to come back… you have to come alone.”

PART V — Where the Tuppels Breathe

The forest seemed to hold its breath as Lily’s words settled in the cold, luminous air.

Dozens of children.  Some alive.

Some… maybe many.

Waiting in the dark for someone who might one day come

A shiver ran down my spine; not just fear, but the overwhelming certainty that Etha had been an isolated miracle.

One of many had sounded. And the woman who crawled under our houses, who whispered about “fixing” what had been forgotten, hadn’t finished.

Not for a shot loпg.

I turned to Ruiz. “I’m leaving.”

Her face tightened. “Daiel, yes. Absolutely.”

—You heard her— I said. —She’s waiting for me alone.

“She wants influence,” Ruiz snapped. “She wants control.”

“She expects me to follow her,” I said. “And I will.”

“That’s suicide.”

“No,” I said. “It’s a rescue mission.”

Ruiz let out a ragged sigh. “Go into those tunnels alone; we might find you again.”

Behind her, Dopelly ran a hand through her hair, enjoying herself.

“He’s traversing this forest like a humid colony,” he murmured. “We don’t know how deep it is. Or how many trails there are. We need maps. Exploring the ground…”

“We don’t have time,” I said sharply. “He’ll move the child. He’ll move them all. He’ll bury them deeper, in an unreachable place.”

Lily grabbed Laura’s sweater, trembling.

“Dad,” she whispered, “said you have to hurry.”

The crying had completely stopped, disappearing into a blanket of thick, superficial silence.

Ruiz clenched his jaw. “We’ll keep our distance,” he ordered. “Calm down. Slowly. As far as the sound allows.”

“Don’t get into trouble,” I added.

Ruiz blinked. “Why the hell?”

Because if she hears a safety click or a metallic scrape in a clamp, she’ll think you’re attacking her. She’ll get nervous and use the children as shields.

Ruiz cursed, but she knew I was right.

“Good,” she said. “No need for fire.”

Dopelly gave me a headlamp and a compact two-way radio. “Chapel Seven. Whisper so he can’t hear.”

I shook my head. “I can’t stand it. He’ll hear the static.”

He looked at me in disbelief. “Are you going to go blind   ?  “

“No.” I looked at Lily. “
I’ve got it.”

Lily took a step forward and clung to my coat.

“I can still hear the boy,” she whispered. “Of course… as if I were underwater.”

“Can you keep listening?” I asked in a serious tone.

She was surprised, though fear trembled through her small body.

“I’ll tell you if it stops,” he whispered. “Or if it moves.”

Ruiz frowned. “Do we trust the intuition of a five-year-old? Dapiel…”

“She’s the only reason Ethaï is alive,” I said. “So yes. We are.”

Ruiz closed her eyes briefly, puzzled. “We move when you move.”

I sat in front of Lily, lifting her chip.

Honey… whatever you hear, tell Mrs. Laura. Not me. Not the police. Keep your eyes closed. Don’t listen too closely. Just… be careful.

Lily jumped and wrapped her arms around my neck. “Come back, Daddy.”

“I’ll do it.” I had to. For Etha. For the boy.

For the following dozens.

I squeezed it one last time and turned towards the forest.

To the place where the soul died.

The tunnel was an irregular hole carved into the hillside, half-hidden behind the undergrowth.

Fresh soil. Digged by hand.

A wide mouth for a fat adult… or a desperate father willing to crawl from head to toe.

I crouched down, my heart heavy, and I crouched down.

The earth swallowed me whole.

The damp air pressed against my skis. The tarp dropped sharply, forcing me to crawl. My palms slid through the cold mud. Roots soaked my sleeves. The space narrowed with every step I took.

Fifteen meters away, the smell hit me: mold, rust, stale breath. And underneath…

Something else. Something bitter.

Fear.

The passageway opened slightly into a larger chamber, about two meters wide and one and a half meters high. It was big enough to duck down. My headlamp flickered as I saw furrows in the earthen walls: finger marks. Scratches. As if someone had been scratching there for years

Something moved behind me. I turned around quickly…

No ope.

Only settling of the earth.

The: A slight sigh.

No mipe

—Dapíel… —his voice was heard in the darkness—. ​​Move faster.

My skis dragged. “Where are you?”

Silence.
Then a child whimpered, much closer now.

I crawled south, deeper into the earth.

The tupellas spread like veils.

Left. Right. Down.
Each path narrower than the last.

I chose by sound: a soft cry, with irregular echoes, sometimes close, sometimes farther away, like the distorted distance of tupellas. Every few minutes I paused, holding my breath.

And I heard them.

Not just one voice.

Several.

Sobs. Breaths. Whispers. Children whispering for help

Do children whisper   to their dad?

The children whisper,   don’t leave me.

My stomach twisted so violently that I almost vomited.

How long had these tunnels existed in my neighborhood? In the forest? In our lifetimes?

A scraping sound echoed from somewhere ahead. Metal against the butt.

Chais.

“He’s close,” Lily’s soft voice reached my ear; the memory of her words guided me like a compass. “He’s waiting.”

The corridor sloped downwards again, narrowing so much that I had to lie face down and crawl forward on my elbows. My arms were covered in dirt. I felt a tightness in my chest.

I wasn’t claustrophobic before this flight.
But I was getting there.

The tunnel opened to reveal a camera.

And I froze.

There were   three   children there.

Two girls and a boy, older than eight, huddled together at the other end, their wrists tied to a rusty pipe that rattled against the earthen wall. Their faces were dirty, empty, terrified.

The boy looked up first.

“He said you’d come,” she whispered.

The youngest girl grabbed his arm. “She said you’re the one who breaks things.”

I got a lump in my throat. “It’s okay. I’m here to help.”

“She said you would say that too,” the boy murmured.

My voice broke. “Where is he?”

A soft scratch behind me.

I turned around.

The woman was sitting in the far corner, with her legs crossed. Her hands rested on her knees. Her hair completely hid her face

She had been there the whole time, sitting silently, breathing silently, like part of the wall.

“You brought the light,” he said quietly. “I told you not to.”

“I’m not going to turn it off.”

“They’re afraid,” he murmured. “They’re used to the dark.”

“No child should be used to this.”

She tilted her head slightly. “You didn’t understand what I built.”

Rage filled me. “You built a prison.”

“No,” he said softly. “A refuge.”

“They’re chained up,” I whispered.

“So they don’t break,” he said simply

“They are dying of hunger.”

“They’re calm,” she corrected. “Nothing hurts anymore. They’ve stopped waiting for things.”

I moved closer, my fists trembling. “Let them go. Now.”

Another nod. “You still don’t understand…”

He raised his hand.
For the first time, I saw his fingers: long, soft, with nails cracked and dirty from years of digging. He pointed at the children.

“They don’t want to leave.”

The girl moaned, “I want to leave.”

The woman hissed sharply, not at me but at the child

The girl stepped back sharply.

My blood boiled.

“I’m taking them,” I said.

“All of them.”

She got up slowly.

Her movements were clumsy, fragile, as if she had forgotten how to stand. When she straightened up completely, she placed her hand on the ceiling, steadying herself.

Her hair completely obscured her face.

“You came alone,” he whispered. “Just like I asked.”

“Yes.” My voice faltered.

She moved closer.

His feet made a noise on the ground.

“Change me,” he said. “Give me your daughter.”

“No.”

“Give me someone,” she whispered. “Give me someone you don’t miss. You didn’t miss your sop.”

My breath caught in my throat. “That’s not true.”

“You moved out.”

“I never moved.”

“You slept,” she murmured accusingly. “You ate. You worked. You lived.”

Her voice broke.

“You forgot it in pieces.”

Tears filled my eyes. “I never forgot it.”

“Yes, you did.” Her voice broke completely. “Everyone does. Parents… they forget. They drift away. They get tired. They give up.”

She took another step closer.

For the first time, he raised his head.

I saw her face.

She wasn’t a gang member.
She wasn’t twisted or deformed

She was a woman.

Pale. Emaciated from exhaustion and delirium. Dark circles under her eyes that had oozed too much. Cracked lips. Puffy cheeks.

A human being.

Broken beyond repair.

“You’re sick,” I whispered. “You need help.”

She stared at me through her tangled hair, breathing too fast.

“They forget,” she whispered again. “My mother forgot me. She left me on the floor. She left me in closets. She left me in dark places where no one could hear me.”

My heart sank.

“Is that why—”

“They forget,” she repeated firmly. “Parents forget. So I take them first. Before they break. Before the world breaks them.”

Her chest heaved. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“No one heals the children,” she whispered. “No one saves them. No one takes care of them over time.”

“I searched,” I said fiercely. “I searched for Ethaï every day.”

—But you didn’t hear it—she said. —Your daughter did.

My breath caught in my throat.

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“She hears things,” the woman whispered. “Just like me. She opens doors others can’t. She feels them cry. She’s special.”

“She’s a child,” I said, my voice trembling. “Leave her alone.”

“I wanted to teach her,” he murmured. “I wanted to show her the things the world forgets. You can’t protect her from her gift.”

“She has no talent,” I said through gritted teeth. “She’s traumatized.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “It’s open.”

I stepped between her and the children. “You’re not touching her.”

His breathing became erratic, shaky, and unstable.

“You didn’t come here to trade,” he said. “You came here to steal.”

“I came to save you.”

She exhaled shakily. “We’re ready.”

She spat and darted to the side so fast I lost sight of her instantly. The children screamed

“No!” I ran after her.

But the carpet collapsed behind her, and the earth cascaded down like a living thing, sealing the path. Dust exploded in the chamber.

The children coughed and groaned.

I slammed my fists against the dirt wall. “Damn it!”

Footsteps were heard behind me: Ruiz and Doña Elly creeping towards the camera, their faces contorted with horror.

“Jesus Christ,” Dopelly whispered as he saw the children respond.

Ruiz immediately ducked down, checking his restraints. “We need bolt cutters! Urgent medical evacuation!”

The officers came in droves, helping one child after another.

But not all obstacles led to freedom.

Some led us deeper into darkness.

“We have to find the boy he took,” I said breathlessly. “He’s still alive. I heard him.”

“Daiel,” Ruiz said seriously, “this camera is a miracle. These children…”

“No!” I said, my voice trembling. “He has   one more  ! A boy arrived earlier tonight!”

“We’ll find him,” Ruiz promised. “But we need controlled search teams. Breathing equipment. Structural support. We can’t leave you alone any longer.”

I shook my head violently. “It’s very far away. I can…”

The ground rumbled beneath my feet.

A deep and changing vibration.

Tunnels collapsing.

The woman was burying her escape route.

Ruiz shouted over the radio: “Evacuate NOW! Everyone out! The ground is unstable!”

“No!” I insisted. “I can still reach…”

Ruiz grabbed my shoulders. “If you die, she dies. Did they save that girl? We need a coordinated rescue. You can’t do this alone.”

The ceiling of the chamber cracked.

Piles of earth fell to the ground.

Dopelly grabbed my arm. “MOVE!”

The officers brought the children out first, leading them to the main pit. I stumbled after them, choking on the dust as the mounds roared around us.

We emerged into the cold, light air just as the tunnel behind me completely collapsed, sealing off the underground world with a deafening noise.

I stared at the ground, my chest heavy and my heart broken.

She left.
And she would take the last child with her.

Hours later, as dawn broke gray and heavy over the forest, I sat on the rear bumper of an ambulance.

Ethaï was sleeping next to the hospital beds, sedated but safe. Lily sat beside me, bouncing on my shoulder, exhausted but awake.

“They are calm now,” he whispered.

“Who?” I asked gently.

“The children,” she murmured. “Most of them. Not all of them.”

My stomach sank. “You mean the ones we rescued?”

“No,” he shook his head. “The officers are still on the ground.”

A hollow pain pierced my chest.

Ruiz approached with a somber expression.

“We’ll be digging for days,” he said. “Weeks if necessary. We’ll find the tupels. All of them.”

“Did you meet her?” I asked.

Ruiz looked away. “We don’t know if she’s alive up there. If she is… she’s deep down. And she knows how to hide.”

My hands curled into fists.

“We will catch her,” Ruiz repeated. “We will not stop.”

But his voice lacked conviction.

She saw the truth too.

That woman didn’t build tunnels just to hide her children.
She built them so they would disappear.

Lily tugged at my sleeve.

“Dad…” she whispered, as she headed towards the forest.

My blood ran cold.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

Lily’s voice trembled as she whispered,

“She’s not so grumpy anymore.”

I froze.

Lily stared at the trees with wide, frightened eyes

“She’s watching us.”

My heart was beating strongly.

“Where?” I whispered.

Lily swallowed hard.

“She said…
that she would bring the boy back.”

Hope shone painfully in my chest.

“But only,” Lily whispered, “if you come alone next time.”

My stomach dropped

Next time.

Lily’s eyes filled with tears.

“She said she’ll call you when she’s ready.”

The forest fell silent.

Completely silent.

And a cold breeze slipped through the branches, bringing with it a soft, unpleasant sound

A soft cry. The voice of a child.

Echo just out of reach.

Calling for me.

THE END