SCREAM

words still screaming in her mind: "HE IS RISEN." The locket, clutched in her hand, felt like a burning ember, its ancient weight a terrifying anchor to a nightmare that wa

ast, ominous labyrinth, every shadow a potential hiding place, e

aelen, the tireless Archivist, might still be in the library, lost in some dusty tome. Anya ran, her backpack bouncin

y darkening evening. Solara was leaning against the hood, scrolling through her phone, a pictur

?" Solara's eyes widened as she took in Anya'

script painfully visible even in the dimming light. "Look. Look what I foun

the words, then flickered to the dried, dark smear on the other side of the locket's interior. Her

r gaze met Anya's, and for the first time, Anya saw raw fear in her fr

to speak, her thro

from the side entrance, a new stack of books tucked under one arm, his glasses glinting

lara snapped, her voice sharpe

sion on his face. "Networker! Observer! What is the nature of this urgent summons

rrupted, shoving the locket and the

He fumbled for his magnifying glass, pulling it from his pocket with surprising speed. He

he phrase is not from the common Woodsman folklore. It suggests a more esoteric, almost... resurrectionist, interpretation of the legend

ning a little strength as the shared terror made it more real.

clear. This is not just a threat. This is a declaration. A promise. The perpetrator isn't merely playing w

ying to project a calm she clearly didn't feel. "Someone who believes this ancient g

," Kaelen corrected, his voice grave. "Either way, the danger has escalated exponentially. This is

now? We have to go to the police, right? This i

ns a cryptic message and a smear of what appears to be blood? Without forensic analysis, which they would likely dismiss as unnecessary, it's just anoth

get hurt?" Solara challenged,

it is the killer's calling card. It tells us their intent. 'He is Risen.' They intend to bri

ispered, the weight of the locket in

t on this... prophecy. We now know their mindset. Their obsession. We need to identify anyone w

nt. "He teaches all the local history. He's obsessed

reclusive nature and fascination with old shri

ent art, her intense interest in the Woodsman lore, her alm

is growing," Solara said, running a hand through her hair. "But how do we

rs, and any unusual behavior that aligns with... this." He gestured vaguely at the locket in Anya's hand. "We need to observe them,

the growing darkness. The innocence of their initial investigation had shattered. This was no longer a game,

e supplies, odd behavior, anything she might be hiding. Kaelen, you have Mr. Thorne for AP History. Pay attention to anything he says, anything he does, any new 'rese

ing her a small anchor in the storm of her fe

nce. Do not let them out of your sight. Do not show them to anyone else. Not yet

d purples and ominous grays, the trio felt the oppressive weight of their task

a, every shadow held a potential threat, every sudden noise a jolt of fear. The routine of school felt like a flim

orrors. One particular painting, a stark black canvas dominated by a single, stylized weeping eye, sent a shiver down Anya's spine. Roxy claimed it was just "expressionism," but Anya couldn't shake the feeling it was something more

ker historical footnotes. During a lecture on early New England superstitions, he mentioned, almost offhandedly, the practice of "sympathetic magic" and the use of effigies in various cultures. Anya felt a col

school's darkroom, developing his disturbing photographs. "He's been taking pictures of the old abandoned church on Elm Street," Rylen had texted Solara. "You know, the one they say is haunted? And his photos are getting rea

ecluded corner of the empty auditorium, the vast,

rry photo she'd taken of Roxy's locked art box. "And her art is getting really

g his glasses. "His knowledge of rituals, effigies, and obscure superstitions is aston

, pulling up a satellite photo of the dilapidated building on her phone. "Rylen says he's o

ginal Blackwood settlement. And, legend has it, it was a place of... unusual occurrences, even before it was abandoned. W

who likes creepy places, is spending time at a plac

or the messaging, and the access to a highly symbolic location. Mr. Thorne has the knowledge and potent

sighed, running a hand through her silver hair. "An

n her pocket. "Something that ties one of them directly to the messa

all historical accounts of the Woodsman legend with any known unusual activities or

elum Vance's camera," Solara decided. "Maybe his work wi

ighten in her stomach. "And w

everyone else. But more importantly, pay attention to the environment. Any new messages, any strange symbols, any unusual '

ng every detail: the way a teacher lingered in the hallway, the unusual quietness of a student, the subtle chang

restroom. The site of the first message. She stared at the spot on the mirror where "THEY HEA

es, the gleaming chrome, the dull hum of the ventilation fan. She was about to leave, when something caught her eye. Not on

, intersecting lines. A cross. But not a normal cross. One line was vertical, long and thin. The other was h

urial markers. It was an archaic symbol for... a 'watcher.' Someone who guarded the threshol

haking. This was a new message. A hidden one. And it confirmed that the kil

the photo to th

cond floor girls' bathroom. Scratched. Looks

were almost

ell. They're still he

g escalation. It confirms the ritualistic intent. This individual is not

eep in her bones. Marking terri

rrifying agent, was getting closer. Anya looked at her reflection in the mirror, the pale, fearfu