The forest loomed before her, the mighty Hemlocks standing like resolute sentries guarding entry to their secret world. Beyond were branches of old growth maples and black cottonwoods which reached skyward like the gnarled, twisted fingers of some ancient being buried beneath the earth. Sloane couldn't shake the feeling that they were waiting for her to get closer in order to snatch her up and drag her in.

      Though the early afternoon sun still hung high in the sky, the space beyond the tree line was dark and foreboding. It was as though even the sunlight was afraid to enter and it made Sloane even less inclined to break the solitude of such a seemingly sacred place.

      The longer Sloane stood there contemplating her next move, the more it felt like the forest was watching her with a predatory need -- like a cat waiting for a mouse to venture close enough for the cat to take action. She knew it was foolish to think of a forest as alive, but she couldn't shake the uneasiness that settled into the pit of her stomach the same way food on the verge of spoiling might do.

      Her mother's constant reference to the forest was a vague, ambiguous term that could have referred to any number of forested areas within the Cascade Mountain range. So Sloane, determined to keep her promise, had driven out to the spot on the highway where the accident had occurred.

      It was the only place she could think of to go that had any bearing at all on her mother's story.

      Set a little ways from the road was a memorial which marked the spot where the car had swerved off the road. It had rolled down a steep, debris littered incline before finally coming to rest on the forest floor some fifteen feet down.

      Sloane was certain that when the memorial was first set up it had been in pristine condition. Nearly twenty years of exposure to the elements had caused the white paint on the cross to fade and, in some places, wash away completely. There was evidence of flowers, toys and other offerings that had been left at various points throughout the years. What stood out most to Sloane were the words etched into the weather worn wood.

      Stars Cannot Shine Without Darkness.

      Sloane felt tears prick the corners of her eyes.

      "I wish you were here, Dad," she murmured, running her finger across the rough wood, tracing over the letters with the flat of her thumb. "I don't know what to do. Mom used to say you had all the answers, that you always saw the bright side to everything. I try to be like that too, I try to see the bright side, but lately it's gotten harder and harder...I can't do it all by myself."

      She didn't realize she was crying until the letters began to blur. Lifting her hand she quickly swiped her eyes and cleared her throat. "Sorry, Dad, I promised Allegra I would be strong for her. She's really sick, the doctors can't figure out what's wrong with her. Mom... mom thinks something here can help her but mom... she's sick too, she has been ever since the accident. She thinks something happened to her here, that someone saved her."

      The leaves at her feet began to stir before they were caught up in a swirl of crimson and gold as a strong, cool breeze swept through the mountain pass with a low whistling sound. Her dark hair danced wildly around her face as the wind picked up in strength and a low groaning sound erupted from the forest as the trees began to bend.

      Turning towards the tree line, Sloane caught the briefest glimpse of a figure melting back into the darkness. Her heart skipped in her chest. 

      The wind whipped around her again in a frenzy, invisible fingers tugging at her clothes and her hair. In a chilling moment of clarity Sloane realized the wind was pulling towards the blackness of the forest where the leaves remained undisturbed by the gale rising up around her.

      Sloane suddenly felt cold, the sort of cold that rose up from the inside. Like splinters of ice it worked its way deep into her bones and settled there frigid, and ominous.

      She looked back towards where she had left her car parked on the shoulder, but saw nothing unusual. Nothing to indicate anything was amiss. Nothing to imply there was anyone else there with her.

      Nothing to stop her from going back and driving away as fast as she could.

      The wind died down but the leaves had been swirled and pulled into a very distinct path that began at her feet and wound its way with assurity towards the tree line.

      "You're losing it, Sloane," she muttered to herself, kicking at the leaves at her feet. They scattered in a flurry only to gather once more at her feet as though nothing had happened. Sloane stared long and hard at the ground, baffled by what she had witnessed.

      Surely it had just been a figment of her imagination.

      To prove that she was having some sort of hallucination, Sloane kicked the pile again. Like before the leaves scattered outwards, some even going so far as to catch on the light breeze, and then they came back, swirling and twirling about until they had once again settled at her feet.

      Deciding she'd had enough, Sloane turned and headed back to her car. She had come to the forest, just as she had promised. As she drew closer she shoved her hand into her pocket in search of her keys and frowned.

      They were gone.

      Confused, Sloane returned to the spot where she had been standing and searched the ground.

      There was no sign of them.

      She returned to the memorial that had been set up for her father and looked to see if perhaps they had fallen out then.

      Still, nothing.

      As she rose from a crouch the sound of jingling caught her attention. Turning towards it she saw nothing unusual, nothing to explain the source of the noise.

      "What the hell..." she muttered, feeling both perplexed and annoyed by the unexpected turn of events. Looking back towards the tree line she saw something at its edge that confused her further. A glint of silver winking in the sunlight.

      As she drew closer, her feet traveling along the leafy path, she tried to figure out how her keys could have gotten all the way over here. She hadn't come anywhere near the forest's edge, only studied it from afar. They weren't particularly heavy, but they weren't exactly light either.

      When she finally reached the source she half expected to find something else half buried beneath the leaves -- an abandoned soda can perhaps, a lost piece of jewelry, someone else's car keys, but she certainly didn't expect to find her own.

      Bending down she plucked them from the ground, but before she could rise fully she felt a hard shove from behind. It caused her to stumble forward a few steps and when she turned to see who the culprit was she realized she had crossed the threshold into the forest itself. In the deepening gloom she felt a growing sense of alarm.

      From where she was standing she could see the highway, she could see her car, she could see the memorial that had been set up for her father, but when she tried to step forward, to pass through the archway of moss covered branches, she ended up in the very same place she had just left.

      "Don't you know it's dangerous to go into the forest alone?"

      Sloane twisted around, the voice so close she was certain the speaker would be practically standing on top of her.

      But the small clearing was empty and eerily silent in the wake of the voice.

      "I'm not afraid," she called out, grateful she was able to keep her voice calm and even.

      "Then you are a fool."

      Sloane twisted around again, but still found herself alone despite the nearness of the speaker.

       "Maybe," Sloane replied, "but then again maybe not. Show yourself. Who are you?"

      There was a soft rustling sound as wind pulled through the leaves of the trees. "You've trespassed in my home, I think I'll be the one asking the questions."

      This time, Sloane looked up.

      Sprawled casually in the branching crown of a nearby tree was a young man with pale skin and long dark hair which wafted in a breeze Sloane could not feel. His eyes were closed and his face was tilted upwards, as though he was basking in the sun, but the light filtering down through the canopy was minimal and barely illuminated the grove.

      Finally his head turned lazily and his eyes opened causing Sloane to step back in surprise. They were red and luminescent.

       "Are you afraid now, Sloane?" he asked, laughter lacing his words.

      Sloane frowned. "How do you know my name?"

      "I know everything about you," he replied, twisting until he was sitting on the edge of the branch. He peered down at her. "I know that you have been alive for seventeen years, two months, six days, forty two minutes and thirteen seconds."

      "I know that you should be dead," he pushed off the branch and landed with a soft thump on the forest floor just feet from where Sloane stood. As he straightened, she realized he was tall, much taller than he first seemed when he had been up in the tree.

      "The most important thing I know is that you forfeited your life the moment you stepped into my forest." He took a step closer and Sloane instinctively retreated a step. How did he know all of that about her? Was he some sort of stalker?

      "Your forest? What do you mean forfeited?" Sloane asked.

      "Never mind all that for now. What are you doing here?" He asked, reaching out to catch a strand of her hair between his fingers. Sloane's heart was racing a mile a minute. She couldn't believe this was actually happening. Was it possible her mother wasn't as crazy as she sounded, or was this all some strange coincidence?

       "I thought you already knew everything about me," Sloane replied despite her natural inclination towards self preservation. "Now answer my question. You said I forfeited my life, what do you mean by that?" This caused the young man to chuckle and step closer.

      "It's the same for all who enter the realm of the Goblin King," the young man replied.

      "The Goblin King?" Sloane repeated with a snort of disdain. "You should meet my mom, you two will have lots to talk about."

      The young man frowned. "Your lack of respect for--"

      "My apologies," Sloane interrupted. "How do I get out of here?"

      "You crossed the threshold and, as you have already discovered, there is no going back. At least, not the same way you came in."

      "So, there is a way out then," Sloane countered.

      "There is one way, but... you'll never make it on your own," he said with a smug smirk. "Only the Goblin King has the power to release you from this place."

      Sloane grit her teeth and did her best to hide her irritation.

      "Then how do I find him?" Sloane asked at last.

      The young man stepped back and spread his arms.

      "You're in luck, you see, I am the Goblin King, it is I-- what is the meaning of this? Why are you laughing? Do you want to die?"

      Sloane was doubled over with laughter, clutching at her sides with her arms, trying to regain control but each time she came close she fell prey to another fit of giggles.

      "Do you really expect me to believe that?" she asked once she was able to catch her breath.

      The young man scowled, his eyes narrowing. "It's in your best interest to–"

      He fell silent mid-sentence and turned towards the dark expanse of forest behind him as though he were listening for something.

      "What is it? What's wrong?" Sloane asked, that feeling of unease returning in full force. Had he seen some sort of wild animal? A bear perhaps?

      He said nothing and the tension in the clearing grew as the trees overhead began to sway. The air around them grew colder and the shadows deeper.

      "Hello?"

      Without warning, he darted towards her and grabbed hold of her wrist. She resisted, pulling against his grip.

      "Hey! Let go!"

      He stopped and spun around so quickly she nearly ran into him. He stared down at her, his face inches from her own. "Shut up and follow me, unless you really do want to die," he said, his voice low. Startled by the threat, Sloane fell silent and allowed him to lead her into the thick underbrush.

      "Stay here, don't move, don't make a sound," he said, pushing her down to the ground, "in fact, it'd be best for both of us if you don't even breathe."

      Before she could speak, he was gone, disappearing back into the trees.

      What the hell was going on?

      The more she thought about it, the more Sloane began to wonder if she had been conned by some sort of forest dwelling thief. Feeling around in the pockets of her jacket she felt her cellphone and her wallet, but realized her car keys were missing.

      Had that jerk stolen her keys?

      Anger welled inside of her and she was contemplating her next move when the sound of voices reached her ears.

      "I've been here, watching the gate, just as you instructed," she heard the young man say.

     Gate? What did he mean by gate?

      "You remember what I said would happen if I caught you sleeping on the job again," another voice, a deeper voice, inquired. There was something about the voice that was familiar though Sloane was confident she had never heard it before.

      "It happened one time– okay, okay," the young man replied.

      "Where is the girl?"

      Sloane suddenly felt sick to her stomach. Was he talking about her? Had she stumbled across some sort of human trafficking operation? Did they plan to make her their next victim? Sloane wasn't going to stick around long enough to find out.

      Rising as quietly as she could to her feet, Sloane ducked low and picked her way carefully through the underbrush until the sound of their conversation faded completely.

      Then – she ran.