December 10, 2025 – 10:00 PM CST

The wind had teeth.

Even bundled in layers, Dr. Amelia Kessler felt every bite as she trudged through the drifts alongside her colleague, Jens. Their research had ended, but neither of them wanted to leave the glacier yet—not before following one final anomaly pinged by the drone.

“Thermal irregularities,” Jens muttered. “Right beneath this ridge. Doesn’t make sense.”

It never did out here.

They dug, numb fingers scraping ice away from what looked like wood. Not frozen branches—beams. Carved. Weathered. Charred.

“A cabin?” Amelia said.

Jens didn’t answer. He stared, eyes wide. “This… this shouldn’t be here. There’s no record. No trails. No settlements this deep.”

They cleared more snow, revealing a sagging roof. Someone—or something—had buried it intentionally, a hundred years ago or more. The door was jammed, frozen in place. Amelia wedged it with a chisel.

It popped open with a hiss.

The air that escaped was warmer than it should’ve been. And it smelled faintly of smoke and cinnamon. Inside, the cabin looked preserved—wooden furniture intact, a stone hearth still bearing the ghost of a fire.

And on the table, a teacup steamed.

Amelia’s breath caught. “Did you see—?”

“No,” Jens interrupted quickly, shaking his head. “We didn’t see anything.”

A chair creaked behind them.

They spun. No one.

Amelia raised her flashlight—and the beam caught a photo on the wall. A faded sepia image of two hikers. One looked uncannily like Jens. The other looked just like her.

“I think we should go,” she whispered.

Too late.

The door slammed shut.

Faint footsteps padded overhead—on a roof buried beneath thirty feet of snow.

And from the fireplace, the fire flared again, casting long shadows that danced with human shapes.

The cabin groaned. It was remembering.

Amelia and Jens stood frozen as laughter echoed through the walls—childlike and ancient all at once.

They were not the first.

And the snow outside was already beginning to fall harder.