It’s not exactly deep philosophy. But when you make a career out of aesthetics, I suppose it makes people feel better to think they can impart some deeper meaning.

It doesn’t take long for Chase to get what he’d been hoping for, either. The comments come quickly, and most ooh and aah over Askal. A few make mention of how they never believed Riley, anyway. It seems that Chase’s ex is an influencer like him, which explains his worry about the situation blowing out of proportion.

“Who’s that behind you?” One eagle-eyed commenter asks. Chase’s picture hadn’t left me completely out of the picture. There’s a shot of my legs in the background, barely out of focus.

“That was deliberate,” Chase says sheepishly. “I don’t have to comment about who I’m with on this island, but I can imply that Riley’s making things up about me. They’ll hash it out among themselves, and I won’t ever have to respond. That’s the beauty about having a truckload of followers.” He looks back at the picture and frowns. “Well, that’s odd. What’s that?”

I look again.

My legs are evident in the picture.

But there is another set of legs farther behind me.

They’re distorted enough that they could be dismissed as an odd wooden sculpture or some kind of abstract statue. But there is nothing resembling that decorating the room. It looks like gnarled roots shaped to mimic calves and feet…

I spin.

There is no one else there.

Chase doesn’t realize the enormity of what we’re looking at. He’s glancing around too, puzzled but relaxed. “I didn’t put on any filters; I don’t know where that could have come from—”

A sudden cry from outside catches our attention. Chase rises to his feet, alarmed, and my instincts kick in.

“Stay here,” I bark at him, opening the door and racing out before he can respond, Askal tearing at my heels.

The cry sounds again, but this time it’s coming from the direction of the sinkhole.

There is no one else around when I arrive at the glowing lanterns and ropes set up around the hole.

But I see Armani. The man must’ve slid down into the sinkhole and found nothing but the corpse tree to cling to. The balete tree stopped what could have been a fatal plunge.

The man is all but gibbering in terror, though relief flashes across his face when he spots me.

“Kid,” he shouts. “Thank god you’re here. Get help, tell them to bring some ropes and get me the hell out of here!”

“Don’t move!” I shout back, but he ignores me, struggling to free some of the smaller branches that are stuck to the sleeves of his shirt.

“Hey!” I shout again, this time in the direction of the other cabins. “Someone’s fallen into the pit!”

There’s a long piece of rope still strapped to a nearby tree, securely tied from the crew’s previous excursions into the sinkhole. I grab it and throw the line down for him to catch. Askal is going nuts, running back and forth along the rim of the pit and barking like mad at the tree.