old himself it was just his imagination. By morning, he was obsessed. He stuffed the box into his backpack and headed to school, determined to figure it out.Marcus caught up with him at the bi

es. Never seen this exact mark, though."Ethan's stomach twisted. Cult types? That wasn't the answer he expected. Mrs. Kessler handed him a book on local history, but it was a dead end-no mention of the symbol. Still, Ethan felt like he was onto something.That evening, he biked to the abandoned mill on the edge of town, a crumbling skeleton of brick and steel. The box felt heavier in his bag, like it knew where they were going. Inside the mill, the air was thick with mildew. Ethan's fl