Sylvie and Adrian rushed inside, the tension from the kitchen already thick in the air. The moment they stepped in, their grandfather’s piercing glare locked onto Sylvie, his weathered face set in a deep scowl.

"So what part of ‘be home before sundown’ was confusing to you," he snapped, his voice sharp with disappointment. "Or did you just decide you knew better?"

Sylvie hesitated, caught off guard by the immediate confrontation. She hadn't expected a warm welcome, but the anger in his voice still stung.

"I… I didn’t know about the curfew," she said, her tone firm but apologetic.

"I’m sorry. If I’d known this was a rule for the whole town, I would have taken it more seriously."

Her grandfather scoffed, shaking his head.

"Oh, so you’ll only listen to me if I’ve got the cops to back me up? Good to know."

Sylvie’s patience frayed. She clenched her jaw, standing her ground.

"I’m not just going to blindly obey every order you bark at me! Maybe I’d respect what you have to say a little more if I felt like you had an ounce of respect for me!"

Her grandfather’s expression darkened.

"Well, pardon me if I don’t find staying out all night partying to be ‘respectable’ behavior."

Sylvie’s hands curled into fists.

"Damn it, I wasn’t at some party! I was at the police station!"

Her grandfather crossed his arms, unimpressed.

"So someone called the cops on your little shindig? Serves you all right."

Sylvie felt the anger bubble over, her voice rising.

"I was at the police station because someone died!"

A heavy silence fell over the kitchen. Adrian’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth slightly agape. Their grandfather’s expression flickered, his hard exterior faltering, if only for a moment.

Sylvie took a shaky breath, willing herself to stay composed. Her fingers dug into her palms, the sting grounding her.

"Look, everything happened so fast," she continued, her voice quieter now.

"Honestly, I’m still having a hard time thinking straight. I’m sorry I didn’t call. You must have been worried sick."

Her grandfather remained still, his fingers gripping the edge of the counter so tightly his knuckles turned white. His gaze bore into her, unreadable, before he finally spoke.

"You… should’ve listened to me," he muttered, his voice low, almost tired.

"None of this would’ve happened if you kids had just minded your elders." His gaze flicked between Sylvie and Adrian, his decision final.

"From now on, you’ll both be in your rooms an hour before sundown. No exceptions. Or there’ll be hell to pay."

Without another word, he turned and stalked out of the kitchen, disappearing into the boat shop. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound reverberating through the small house.

Sylvie stood frozen for a moment, her heart pounding against her ribs, anger and exhaustion battling within her. Then, with a frustrated huff, she stomped up the stairs, each step landing heavier than the last.

She reached her room and shoved the door shut behind her, peeling off her clothes in frustration before slipping into her pajamas. The day’s weight pressed down on her, exhaustion clawing at her limbs. With a final, weary sigh, she flopped onto one of the narrow beds, staring up at the ceiling.

Adrian appeared in the doorway a moment later, pausing with a tired sigh.

"I picked that bed."

Sylvie barely cracked an eye open. "Got a forklift? 'Cause that's the only way I'm gonna move right now."

Adrian rolled his eyes but gave up, trudging over to the other bed. He sat down heavily, the springs creaking beneath him. A thick silence settled between them, neither speaking, neither needing to.

After a while, Adrian exhaled, staring at the floor.

"Stuff’s been really messed up, right? First Mom and Dad, and now… this guy at the party?" His voice was quieter now, almost fragile.

Guilt gnawed at Sylvie’s chest.

"I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about that," she admitted, shifting slightly. "It’s just… with everything that’s been happening..."

A storm of emotions swirled inside her, rising fast, threatening to crack through the mask of strength she tried so hard to hold. She focused on her breathing, steady and slow, grounding herself. Adrian didn’t need her breaking down—he needed reassurance, even if she barely believed it herself.

She turned to him, her voice softer but firm.

"It’s going to be okay, Adrian. I promise. No matter how weird or messed up things get, I’ve got your back. Always."

Adrian met her gaze, his lips twitching into a small, grateful smile.

Sylvie stretched, already sinking deeper into the mattress.

"Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna pass out for… forever. Don’t touch my stuff."

Adrian snorted. "Look who’s talking. You’re the one who stole my bed."

Sylvie let out a tired chuckle and rolled onto her side, her body finally surrendering to exhaustion. Her eyelids fluttered, then closed, and within seconds, sleep took her.

Some time later, Sylvie jolted awake. The wind rattled the window beside her, the sharp tap, tap against the glass sending a shiver up her spine. She sucked in a breath, her heart pounding as she blinked into the darkness.

The room was eerily still. Across from her, Adrian lay curled up in the other bed, his breathing deep and even.

She turned to the clock.

10:45 PM.

With a quiet sigh, she flopped back onto her pillow. But no matter how much she willed herself to relax, sleep wouldn’t come. She had spent most of the day unconscious, and now her body refused to rest.

And worse—without distractions, her mind drifted back to the horrors she had been desperately trying to push away.

Blood on the wallpaper.
Shattered glass catching the light.
Jason’s desperate, pleading eyes.

A tremor ran through her, and she hugged herself tightly.

Nathan.

She bit her lip, glancing at the window. Nathan was the only one who seemed to believe that something wasn’t right about Jason’s death. If anyone could help her make sense of this nightmare, it was him.

Before she could second-guess herself, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, slipping her feet into her shoes. Moving carefully, she crept over to the window, easing it open. A gust of cold air rushed in, making her shiver. She sucked in a breath, then climbed out onto the roof, her movements slow and deliberate.

The moment her feet left the floor, she gently slid the window shut behind her.

She stayed still, pressing herself flat against the cool shingles, listening. The house remained silent. No creaking footsteps. No hushed voices.

No one had heard her.

Exhaling in relief, she carefully made her way to the edge of the roof and lowered herself down, landing lightly on the ground.

The night was bitterly cold, the damp air clinging to her skin as she pulled her jacket tighter around herself. Without another moment of hesitation, she turned and hurried toward the dock, her footsteps near-silent against the wooden planks. The town stretched before her, dark and quiet, swallowed in an eerie stillness.

It was a long walk through the sleeping streets, the occasional flicker of a streetlight her only company. Every shadow felt sharper, every sound amplified by the hush of the town at rest. But she pressed on, her pulse steady, her destination clear.

Nathan’s neighborhood came into view, and she slowed her pace, moving carefully.

She whispered to herself, her breath forming a thin cloud in the cold night air. "Nathan’s the only one who will admit something’s fishy about Jason’s death. I have to learn what else he knows."

With determination in her steps, she pressed forward into the darkness.

Determined, Sylvie marched around the corner—only to nearly collide with someone coming from the opposite direction.

"Whoa!" The girl yelped, stumbling back as she fumbled with a large camera in her hands, barely managing to keep her grip. She shot Sylvie an annoyed look.

"Hey, maybe watch where you’re going?"

Sylvie took a step back, raising her hands in apology.

"Sorry, I didn’t see you." Her gaze flickered to the camera.

"But what are you doing out here with that?"

The girl hesitated, glancing down at the device as if just now remembering she was holding it. Then, she straightened up and met Sylvie’s eyes.

"Birds. I’m photographing birds."

Sylvie’s brow arched. "In the middle of the night?"

The girl’s lips twitched. "Owls are birds."

Sylvie sighed.

"Fair enough. Just saying, though, you probably shouldn’t be out here after dark."

The girl scoffed.

"Huh? Then what are you doing skulking around after dark? You know there’s a curfew, right?"

Sylvie smirked. "I’m sunshine Grove's crime fighter, keeping you people safe."

The girl let out a soft chuckle, tilting her head.

"Right. And I’m a private eye—mild-mannered barista by day, gumshoe by night. That’s me."

Sylvie grinned. "Guess we’ll both remain a mystery then."

The two of them stood there for a moment, the quiet hum of the night stretching between them before they finally turned and went their separate ways.

As Sylvie walked, she couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder, watching as the girl disappeared around the corner.

She muttered to herself, shaking her head.

"Why is everyone in this town so secretive… says the person sneaking out to bang on a stranger’s door in the middle of the night?"

With a sigh, she picked up her pace, her thoughts swirling with curiosity as she continued toward Nathan’s house.

Sylvie soon found herself standing in front of a house near the end of the street, its peeling paint and sagging porch a testament to years of neglect. The place had definitely seen better days.

Taking a deep breath, she climbed the creaking steps and knocked on the front door.

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, a shadow shifted in the window. A second later, the door flew open.

A man stood in the doorway, his face half-lit by the dim glow of a single lamp behind him. His eyes were sharp, his expression wary—bordering on hostile.

"Who the hell are you, and what do you want?"

Sylvie hesitated, suddenly aware of how strange this must look—her showing up unannounced in the middle of the night.

"Uh… sorry to bother you. I’m Sylvie. We kind of met at the police station earlier today?"

Recognition flickered across Nathan’s face, but instead of softening, his expression darkened with anger.

"What? The cops get tired of telling me I’m crazy, so they sent you instead? Well, I don’t give a damn if anyone believes me. So you go back to Chief Marshall and tell him—"

"I’m not here because of Chief Marshall," Sylvie cut in firmly.

"I’m here because something happened to me, and I think you know something about it. I need to know what lives in that lake."

Nathan scoffed. "Lots of things. Otters. A whole damn ecosystem."

Sylvie took a step forward, her voice steady.

"You know what I mean. There’s something evil down there. I saw it take Jason."

Nathan’s eyes widened. He immediately scanned the dark street behind her, his posture tense.

"Get inside. It’s not safe to talk out here."

He grabbed her arm and pulled her inside, shutting the door behind them with a hurried click. The locks turned one by one, the heavy deadbolt sliding into place.

The living room was a disaster—stacks of newspapers, books, and half-empty coffee cups cluttered every available surface. Papers covered the walls, tacked up in no clear pattern, some curling at the edges from age. Photos, scribbled notes, and yellowed newspaper clippings overlapped each other like a conspiracy theorist’s nightmare.

Nathan shoved a pile of laundry off the couch, clearing a spot for her to sit.

"Sorry. Don’t get a lot of company these days."

Sylvie perched on the edge of the couch, trying not to stare too obviously at the chaotic wall of evidence in front of her. Across from her, Nathan sank into a chair, his hands clasped, his eyes feverish with intensity.

"Please. Tell me what you saw."

Sylvie took a deep breath, then recounted everything—the way she’d felt hypnotized by the water, the empty, lifeless look in Jason’s eyes as he slipped beneath the surface. And then, the thing she had seen lurking beneath the waves—skeletal, monstrous.

As she spoke, Nathan rose from his chair and began to pace. His breathing quickened, his hands clenching at his sides.

"I knew it..." he muttered under his breath.

"I knew something made her do it. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Layla would never do something like that."

Sylvie frowned.

"You said this has been happening for a while."

Nathan snapped out of his thoughts, turning to her sharply.

"Oh, yes! Here, take a look at this!"

He strode to the wall of cut-out articles and photographs, gesturing wildly.

"I started digging around after my wife’s case got thrown out. These drownings? They go back over twenty years. The story is always the same—someone vanishes in the middle of the night, no signs of forced entry or foul play. Then, hours or days later…"

He reached out, tapping a newspaper clipping with a shaking hand.

"They wash up on the beach. Dead."

Sylvie's brows knitted together in confusion.

"How has no one else seen this pattern if it's been going on for so long?"

Nathan exhaled sharply, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

"At first, it only took a person every few years. But lately, it’s been happening more and more." His voice grew tense.

"My wife Layla was the third person to disappear that year. And your friend Jason…"

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. "Jason is the second this month."

Sylvie felt a chill creep up her spine. The numbers were horrifying.

"This place is so weird," she murmured, rubbing her arms as if to ward off an unseen force.

"When Korban and I were crossing over the center of the lake, I felt something. It wasn’t just eerie or unsettling—it was pure hatred. Like a bottomless pit of rage and destruction."

She met Nathan’s gaze, determination burning in her eyes.

"We have to do something. We have to find out what this thing is and how it’s hurting people."

Nathan’s breath hitched. He walked over to her and, without hesitation, knelt in front of her, clasping both of her hands in his. His grip was firm but trembling, his fingers rough and calloused.

"Sylvie..." His voice cracked, and when she looked down at him, she saw something she hadn’t expected—tears welling in his eyes, raw and unguarded.

"I can’t tell you how much this means to me. To finally have someone believe me after all this time." His hands squeezed hers tighter.

"There were times when... when even I doubted myself. When I thought maybe it really was just an accident. Or worse…" He swallowed hard.

"I felt her leave, you know. I woke up when she got out of bed that night, and I just went right back to sleep."

The weight of his grief pressed against her like an unseen force.

He took a deep breath and let out a shaky laugh, smiling up at her through his tears.

"Thank you. I’ve been carrying this burden alone for so long."

Then, as if remembering something, he pulled back his sleeve, revealing a bracelet around his wrist—woven cords, dark and intricate, almost pulsing with energy. Sylvie’s fingers twitched, drawn to it without understanding why.

"Here," Nathan said, voice steadying. "I want you to have this."

Sylvie hesitated. "What is it?"

Nathan glanced down at the bracelet, his expression unreadable.

"I found it out by the lake a few weeks ago. I don’t know where it came from, but I knew there was something special about it." He paused, his voice dropping lower.

"A few days later, I was about to cross the street when this thing started buzzing—glowing, even. I was so shocked that I stopped in my tracks. A split second later, a pickup truck blew past a stop sign. If I hadn’t stopped... It would’ve run me down."

Sylvie stared at him. "Nathan…"

He pulled the bracelet off his wrist and held it out to her.

"Please, take it."

She hesitated again. "Are you sure? This thing saved your life."

Nathan nodded, a strange certainty settling over his face.

"And maybe it will save yours someday. It’s strange, but I feel like you’re meant to have this."

Sylvie reached for the bracelet, and the moment her fingers brushed against it, she felt an almost magnetic pull—like it was choosing her, rather than the other way around. She slipped it onto her wrist, and the effect was immediate. A faint hum vibrated through her skin, warm and alive, like a second pulse.

She flexed her fingers, watching the way the bracelet settled against her wrist, fitting her as though it had always belonged there. "Thanks, Nathan."

He gave her a small, weary smile. "Don’t thank me yet. We’ve got a long road ahead."

Nathan stood, beaming from ear to ear, his entire face alight with relief. The years of fear and grief seemed to melt away in an instant. "I feel like we can save—"

He stopped mid-sentence.

Sylvie frowned, confused by his sudden silence—until she felt it too. A high, insistent buzz, like a wasp trapped in a glass jar. It made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. A cold shudder ran down her spine as she looked down at her wrist. The bracelet pulsed with a sickly blue-green light, illuminating the room in eerie flashes.

Her blood turned to ice. "So... does that mean—"

A thunderous crash shattered the air. The sound of breaking glass exploded from the next room, and before she could even scream, Nathan grabbed her wrist and yanked her up. His face had gone ghostly pale.

"Hide, quickly!"

"But—"

Before she could argue, he shoved her behind the couch, his movements frantic. Sylvie hit the ground hard, breath knocked out of her. She barely had time to reposition herself before she heard them.

Footsteps. Heavy, deliberate.

She peeked around the side of the couch just as three figures stepped into the room. They moved like phantoms, draped in long, hooded robes that swallowed them in shadow. Their faces were completely hidden, only the vaguest hint of features beneath the folds of darkness.

The air thickened, pressing against her like an unseen force.

Nathan, standing alone, reached for the fireplace poker, his grip tight, knuckles white.

The tallest of the three figures lunged forward. Nathan swung hard, the metal rod whistling through the air—but his attacker barely flinched. A massive, burly forearm shot up, absorbing the impact like it was nothing. The poker bounced off the man’s flesh with a sickening thunk.

Sylvie’s pulse pounded in her ears.

Then, she saw it.

One of the other figures shifted slightly. A subtle movement. A hand dipping into the folds of their robe. And then—

A glint of silver.

Sylvie opened her mouth to scream—

Too late.

The knife slammed into Nathan’s stomach with a dull, wet thud.

His entire body jerked, convulsing as if an electric current had surged through him. His breath hitched, sharp and ragged, a sound of pure, animalistic pain. He staggered backward, his trembling hands instinctively clutching the hilt protruding from his abdomen. Dark crimson spilled over his fingers, soaking the fabric of his shirt.

For a moment, he didn’t even seem to comprehend what had happened. His lips parted, as if trying to form words, but nothing came out.

The hooded figure twisted the knife.

Nathan let out a strangled gasp, a horrible, choking sound. His knees buckled. He collapsed forward, his body crumpling like a broken marionette.

Sylvie clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Her stomach churned as she watched blood pool beneath him, spreading across the wooden floor in an ever-growing stain.

Nathan's fingers twitched. He tried to lift his head, his lips moving soundlessly.

Then, with a final, shuddering breath, he went still.