Cora found Milo in the school parking lot after the final bell. "I need your help," she said, showing him Jaden's journal. "We have to go back to the shed."
Milo's face tightened. "That's not a good idea."
"Look at these." She opened the journal to the pages of symbols. "They match what we saw on the walls. Jaden was tracking something—deaths, patterns, The Circle. We need to know what he found."
Milo studied the journal pages, his expression darkening. Finally, he nodded. "Okay. But we go now, while it's still light."
The woods felt different in daylight, less threatening but somehow more exposed. Every snapping twig made Cora jump, every rustling leaf seemed to hide watching eyes.
The shed looked smaller, more ordinary in the afternoon sun. Milo pushed open the door, wincing at the creak of rusted hinges. Inside, dust motes danced in the beams of light filtering through the walls.
Milo stood beside her, his usual confident demeanor replaced by obvious hesitation.
"We don't have to do this," he said quietly. "Whatever's in there—maybe it should stay buried."
"Like Emily?" Cora watched him flinch at his brother's girlfriend's name. "Like Jaden? How many more people need to die before someone does something?"
Cora pulled out her phone's flashlight, illuminating the walls covered in strange symbols. Some were carved deep into the wood, others painted or drawn with what looked like charcoal. She opened Jaden's journal, comparing his sketches to the marks surrounding them.
"Look," she said, moving closer to one particular symbol. It resembled a seven-pointed star, but with intricate lines weaving through its center. "Jaden drew this exact same symbol. He wrote something next to it.
It was written:
"Seven. Always seven. The number isn't random."
Milo's face had gone pale. "I've been doing some digging since we were here last," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "The Circle—it goes back further than we thought. Way further."
He leaned against the wall, careful to avoid touching any of the symbols.
"Haven's Bay wasn't always the perfect little tourist town it pretends to be. Back in the early days, when the first settlers came here, there were stories. Legends about sacrifices made to ensure good harvests, safe winters, prosperous fishing seasons."
Cora felt her stomach twist. "You're saying The Circle is connected to those old superstitions?"
"Not just connected. They're the same thing, just wearing a different mask." Milo's eyes darted to the windows, as if checking for watchers. "The town's founding families—they probably never stopped believing. They just made it more... sophisticated. Instead of crops and fish, now it's about maintaining the town's prosperity. Tourism. Development deals. Political influence."
"And they're still killing people to do it?" Cora's voice cracked with disbelief.
"Think about it," Milo pressed. "Every major economic boom in Haven's Bay's history coincides with a series of 'tragic accidents.' The marina expansion in the '90s. The luxury resort development in 2005. The tech company headquarters they're building now. Each time, young people start dying during Founder's Day."
Cora's hands trembled as she flipped through Jaden's journal. The pieces were starting to fit together—his frantic warnings, the careful documentation, the list of names.
"He figured it out," she whispered. "That's why they killed him."
A floorboard creaked beneath her feet, the sound different from the others. Milo noticed it too. They both stared at the spot, then at each other.
"There's something under there," Cora said, kneeling to examine the board. It was slightly looser than the others, with faint scratch marks around its edges.
Milo tried to pry it up with his fingers but couldn't get a good grip. "I've got a crowbar in my car," he said. "Give me a minute to grab it."
The moment Milo left, the shed seemed to grow colder. Cora continued examining the symbols, her flashlight beam dancing across the walls. Each mark felt like a piece of a larger puzzle, a dark history written in code across the wood.
She was so focused on the walls that she almost missed the sound—soft footsteps approaching from behind. For a moment, she thought it was Milo returning. But these steps were different.
Slower. More deliberate.
Cora turned, her heart pounding against her ribs. A figure stood in the doorway, backlit by the setting sun. She couldn't make out their face, but their presence filled the small space with an almost physical menace.
"You were warned." The voice was low, distorted, as if speaking through something. Before Cora could move, could scream, could do anything, there was a sudden movement and the sharp sound of breaking glass.