As Kane follows Mellisa, he keeps Amber close, worry etched on his face. Though she appears outwardly fine, her dazed expression suggests a possible concussion. They move through the weathered streets and approach the center of town, where a large, timeworn building looms ahead. Above its entrance hangs a faded wooden sign that reads, “Police Station.”

  Mellisa opens the creaky door and gestures for Kane to step inside. He quickly guides Amber to a small chair in the station’s waiting room before glancing out the windows. Outside, the townsfolk stand at a distance, watching silently. Their expressions are unreadable but heavy with anger. Mellisa yanks the blinds shut with a sharp tug, then turns to Kane, her face hard with frustration.

  “Listen,” she begins, her voice low but firm. “We’re safe for now, but you can’t stay here, Kane. You never should’ve come back.”

  Kane frowns, confused. “What’s wrong with them? It’s like they’re possessed.”

  “Whatever it is, it’s gotten into everyone. They snap at the smallest thing, turning to violence like it’s instinct. They’ll kill for a slight offense.” She pauses, her gaze heavy with regret. “I was hoping you wouldn’t get dragged into this.”

  Kane stiffens, her words striking a nerve. “You knew about my grandfather’s death, didn’t you?” His voice rises slightly. “Why didn’t you report it? You’re a police officer, aren’t you?”

  Mellisa exhales sharply, a tinge of guilt flashing in her eyes. “I’m not. I came here to teach, but the town needed someone to keep order. Now I’m all they’ve got.” Her voice softens. “And yes, I knew. But I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you here. You don’t belong in this nightmare.”

  He stares at her, disbelief mingling with frustration. “You could’ve warned me.”

  She shakes her head, unwilling to argue. “Amber came to town carrying Aster’s body, crying and terrified. The villagers nearly tore her apart right there. I barely got her out alive. She was unconscious most of the time, but… that’s when it started—the violence, the hostility. Since then, loud noises are the only thing that seems to snap them out of it, even briefly.”

  Kane processes her words, his thoughts racing. “Why hasn’t anyone reported this? Or stopped it? What about the outside world?”

  Mellisa slumps into a nearby chair, the weight of the situation visible in her posture. “I don’t know,” she admits quietly. “I’m too afraid to leave. If I did, there’d be no one here to keep the peace. And even if I wanted to leave, the villagers have destroyed most of the cars and burned all the gas. They’ve been building barricades and bizarre occult stuff. I’m trapped.”

  Her words hit Kane harder than he expects. Despite her attempts to remain composed, the strain of years spent fighting a losing battle is written on her face. Wrinkles and weariness mar features that once seemed so youthful.

  He places a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You’re not alone anymore,” he says softly. “I’ll help. Amber will too.”

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  Across the room, Amber stirs, peeking through the blinds. Her voice is groggy but concerned. “They’re getting closer. And my head’s still killing me.”

  Mellisa’s alertness returns in an instant. She springs to her feet and grabs Amber by the arm. “Upstairs. Both of you. Now,” she orders, guiding them toward a narrow staircase. “They’ll lose interest if they can’t see you for long. I’ll try to keep them calm.”

  Once upstairs, Mellisa ushers them into a small office and locks the door behind them. Kane sighs, glancing over at Amber. “You need to rest,” he says firmly. “I don’t think it’s a concussion, but you’re not in good shape.”

  Amber starts to argue but winces, pressing her fingers to her temples. “Fine. Maybe just a quick nap…” she mutters, sinking into a chair. “Let’s hope magic healing kicks in sooner rather than later.”

  As she settles, Kane begins searching the room. Amber watches him with mild irritation. “Do you ever sit still?” she asks. “It’s like you’re always hunting for something.”

  He pauses, rifling through a folder. “I guess I don’t know how to sit still,” he admits. “There’s too much going on.”

  “Maybe you should try,” she says pointedly. “You’re covered in claw marks, and you’re acting like it’s nothing.”

  Kane freezes, touching his torn shirt. To his surprise, the cuts on his back are already scars. “Guess the healing works outside the mansion,” he murmurs. “Interesting…”

  Continuing his search, Kane finds a stack of reports in the chief’s desk. He flips through them, noting an odd pattern. Six years ago, the town’s incident reports skyrocketed. Over time, however, they dwindled to almost nothing. The last report, written a year ago, is different—filled with harsh, cryptic language. It describes “sinners” as deserving their fate and praises the “righteous men” who harmed them. No charges were ever filed.

  Frowning, he sets the reports aside and opens another drawer. Inside, he finds a folder labeled “Aster.” His heart skips a beat as he pulls it out. “Amber,” he says slowly. “I think I’ve found something.”

  Amber stands, still unsteady, but before she can respond, the door handle jiggles. Both freeze. Kane grabs a lamp, while Amber grips her pocket knife, moving to the door’s blind spot. The handle rattles again before the door creaks open.

  Mellisa slips inside, quickly locking the door behind her. Kane exhales in relief, setting the lamp back on the desk. “They’ve dispersed for now,” Mellisa says, her voice tense. “Now tell me why you came here, Kane. There’s no way you’d just drop everything to visit.”

  Kane hesitates. “I got a letter about Aster’s death,” he explains. “It was delivered last week.”

  Mellisa’s expression darkens. “That’s impossible. No letters have left this town in over a year. No outsiders have come in, either. The villagers destroy anything they can’t control. How did you even hear about this?”

  Her disbelief sends a chill through him. “This is bigger than I thought,” he murmurs. “You said it all started with my grandfather’s death?”

  She nods. “Yes. Before that, the town was… normal. I worked as a teacher, and everything was fine. But after Aster died, it all changed. The adults became violent and unpredictable, but the children remain unaffected. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Amber, still leaning against the desk, adds hesitantly, “Couldn’t it all trace back to Aster? What if he’s not dead? He was too eccentric to trust completely. And everything—the mansion, the villagers—it all revolves around him.”

  Mellisa looks pensive, her gaze distant. “He came into town often,” she says quietly. “The kids adored him. He told them stories, made them laugh… But the house…” She trails off, as though reliving a memory she’d buried long ago.

  Kane leans forward, his voice gentle but curious. “You went inside with me once, remember? That summer when we were kids. You never told me what happened. You just disappeared in the middle of the night.”

  Mellisa meets his eyes, the weight of the memory pulling her voice into a whisper. “I almost died in there, Kane.”