The days following the discovery of the lockbox were a strange blend of adrenaline and dread for Elara. School carried on like nothing had changed, but for her and Jace, everything had. She found herself drifting through classes, barely listening, her mind always looping back to the papers, the faded photos, and that one file stamped Project Ember.
Jace had taken to meeting her after school in the back corner of the library — the only place quiet enough for secrets. They spread the documents between them under flickering fluorescent lights, whispering like spies in a Cold War novel. Each paper they read made less sense and more danger.
That Friday, Jace showed up at her locker between second and third period, something he never did. His face was tense, jaw tight.
"We need to go," he said.
"Now?" Elara asked, glancing around at the hallway packed with students. "Where?"
"Community center," he said, voice low. "I found something on the map. A mark over the basement. I think Emmett left it for us."
The name sent a ripple of unease through her. Emmett — Jace's older brother, the one who vanished two years ago without a trace. Every clue they uncovered seemed to lead back to him, like he was still leaving breadcrumbs from beyond.
They cut through the back fields and met again after the final bell. It had rained earlier — the air was sharp with ozone, the grass soaked and squeaking under their sneakers.
The community center sat like a forgotten relic at the edge of town — paint peeling, windows fogged with grime, its sign crooked as if trying to slouch out of notice. It looked abandoned, but Jace had already found a way in. A loose window around back, hidden behind an overgrown hedge.
Inside, it smelled like old books and mold. Dust particles swam through shafts of pale sunlight filtering in from above. The building groaned with every step, as if protesting their presence.
"You sure it's safe?" Elara whispered.
"No," Jace said. "That's why I brought you."
She rolled her eyes. "How flattering."
They found the basement door hidden behind a stack of folding chairs. It creaked when opened, releasing a cold, musty breath that smelled like damp earth and rust. Elara's pulse quickened as she followed Jace down the stairs, her phone flashlight bouncing along the narrow cement walls.
At the bottom was a room — small, square, and sealed off. A single bulb flickered above, hanging from a chain. The floor was cluttered with old filing cabinets, half-crushed cardboard boxes, and broken furniture.
Jace went straight to a rusted cabinet against the far wall and yanked it open. Papers spilled out — old forms, maps, a manila folder marked "FIELD REPORTS – 1986."
Elara picked up one of the pages and read aloud: "'Subject 4 reported hallucinations during second phase. Protocol adjusted. Containment failed.'" Her eyes snapped to Jace. "What the hell is this?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he held up a photo he'd pulled from the folder. It was black and white, grainy. A group of people in lab coats, standing in front of a machine. Wires, blinking lights, something ominous and humming in the background. But what made her gasp was the man in the center.
"I've seen him," she whispered. "At the coffee shop. He's always there, sitting near the back, reading."
Jace nodded grimly. "He's in multiple photos. Every decade. Different clothes, same face. It's like he hasn't aged."
They spent another hour digging. Most of the papers were cryptic — mentions of test subjects, failed procedures, something called "Magnetospheric Manipulation." One page was just a list of names, and Jace nearly dropped it when he found Emmett's listed third.
"I think he volunteered," Jace said, voice hoarse. "Or… they made him."
Elara felt the weight of it settle over them like ash. "We need to leave," she said. "Now."
They packed up what they could fit in Jace's backpack, sealing the folder with trembling hands. As they started back up the stairs, Elara hesitated.
"What if someone's watching this place?"
Jace's eyes met hers. "Then they already know we were here."
The thought chilled her more than the basement air.
They parted ways near the bike trail. Elara's thoughts spun like a storm. Her town — the quiet, boring place she'd always longed to escape — was hiding something bigger than either of them had ever imagined. Something dangerous.
That night, she couldn't sleep. Her phone buzzed once around 11:47 PM.
Jace: Meet me at the pier. Midnight. Urgent.
Her heart stuttered. She grabbed her hoodie, slid out the window, and biked through the dark. The pier was deserted, except for one figure standing near the edge. Jace.
"You okay?" she asked, breathless.
"No," he said, not turning. "I followed the man in the photo. From the coffee shop."
Her eyes widened. "Are you insane?"
"Maybe. But I had to. He walked straight into the woods behind the ridge. Then disappeared."
He turned toward her, eyes wide, haunted. "I heard voices, Elara. From nowhere. And the air… it vibrated. Like it was alive."
A gust of cold air swept over the pier. Elara rubbed her arms, suddenly feeling very exposed.
"We need to go to the authorities," she said, voice shaking.
Jace shook his head. "They already know. Or they're part of it."
A sound made them both spin. A car door slamming. Then silence. Too much silence.
Out of the shadows stepped a man. Tall, dark coat, unblinking eyes.
"You shouldn't be out here," he said. "It's not safe."
Jace stepped in front of Elara. "Who are you?"
The man smiled — slow and joyless. "Let's just say I've been watching your progress."
Before either of them could move, headlights lit up the pier from behind. A second car. Doors opening.
Elara's pulse thundered. This was bad. Worse than they thought.
The man stepped forward. "You want answers?" he said. "Then you'll have to come with me."
Elara reached for Jace's hand. He grabbed hers tightly.
"What happens if we say no?" she asked.
The man's expression didn't change. "Then you'll never know what happened to Emmett."