The Antarctic Expedition

Alex's mind swam in darkness, heavy and disoriented. There was a distant throbbing in his head, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. The world felt muffled, as if he were submerged underwater, struggling to breach the surface. Slowly, he became aware of something soft beneath him—a makeshift bed, maybe? He tried to move, but his limbs felt like lead.

"Where… am I?" The thought came sluggishly, his memories fragmented and unclear. He vaguely recalled the pain, the chaos of the battle, and then… nothing. But now, there was something else—something tucked away, hidden against his skin. His fingers brushed against the bandages on his side, and as his senses gradually returned, he felt the edge of a piece of paper.

Alex's eyes fluttered open, the bright sunlight filtering through the thick canopy above momentarily blinding him. His head pounded, but he forced himself to sit up, gritting his teeth against the discomfort. Slowly, he peeled away the bandages and found a small, crumpled note tucked beneath them. With trembling hands, he unfolded it, squinting at the hastily scrawled words.

Meanwhile, just a short distance away, the rest of the group wrestled with their predicament. Vines constricted their movements, pinning them to the ground in an iron grip. mia twisted and turned, trying to loosen the vines, but they only tightened in response.

"Ryan!" she shouted, her voice laced with desperation. "Why are you doing this?!"

Ryan stood just out of reach, his expression torn between remorse and resolve. He looked at his friends—people he had fought alongside, laughed with, depended on—and yet the dryad's influence held him like a puppet on strings.

Emily's gaze darted from Ryan to the jungle around them, her mind racing for a solution. They had all trusted Ryan, and now they were paying the price. Her thoughts returned to Alex—was he even aware of what was happening? Did he have the strength to help them now, after everything?

As Alex stared at the note in his hand, realization began to dawn on him. The words scrawled on the paper were a warning, a desperate plea for help. He looked around the empty camp, dread creeping up his spine. Something was very wrong.