The Road to Star Valley
It was a normal foggy day.
Not the soft, storybook kind of fog either. This one pressed low against the road, thick and unmoving, swallowing the world whole and leaving only a narrow stretch of asphalt visible ahead. The trees on either side of the highway stood like silent witnesses, their branches stretching thin and skeletal into the gray.
The car cut through the mist with a steady hum.
In the driver's seat sat their mother—a beautiful woman in her mid-thirties with careful eyes and tired grace. Her hands stayed fixed at ten and two. She hadn't turned on the radio. She hadn't spoken in nearly an hour. The fog reflected dimly in her windshield, but her gaze stayed firm, forward, unwavering.
In the passenger seat sat Jason, nineteen. Calm milk-chocolate brown skin. Broad shoulders. Stoic expression. His jaw was set—not tight, just settled. Like he had already accepted something the others hadn't. He watched the road without really seeing it, thoughts moving slow and deliberate behind dark, steady eyes.
In the back seat, Syd leaned against the window. Sixteen. Same warm brown skin as Jason, braided hair falling neatly over her shoulders. Her phone glowed faintly against her face, but she wasn't scrolling. The screen had dimmed minutes ago. She just held it there, pretending to be occupied. A pacifist at heart, always wanting peace, always wanting to talk things through.
Next to her sat the twins.
Dante tapped rapidly on his Switch, fingers moving with precision. The faint electronic clicks were the only rhythm inside the vehicle besides the engine. He was winning—anyone watching could tell—but his face didn't show it. No grin. No celebration. Just focus. Twelve years old, already learning how to keep things inside.
Beside him, Artemis hunched slightly over a small black journal balanced on his knee. His handwriting was careful, deliberate. He wrote like someone afraid to forget. Same skin tone as his siblings, same age as Dante, but quieter. Where Dante processed through motion, Artemis processed through ink.
No one spoke.
The only sounds were the engine, the faint rattle of luggage in the trunk, and Dante's buttons clicking like distant rain.
Then they passed the sign.
"WELCOME TO STAR VALLEY."
The metal was rusted through at the edges. One corner hung lower than the other. The white paint had peeled into long, curling strips. Dark stains streaked across the bottom—deep red-brown, dried and old.
It almost looked like—
But the car didn't slow.
No one noticed.
The fog swallowed the sign as if it had never been there.
---
The house stood at the edge of town.
Two stories. Pale siding. Black shutters. A wide porch that wrapped halfway around like it had once been meant for laughter and rocking chairs. The yard was trimmed, but not recently. The grass bent in uneven patches, and the trees nearby leaned inward, their branches stretching just a little too close to the roof.
It looked nice.
It felt wrong.
The moment the car engine cut off, silence deepened. Not the quiet of a peaceful neighborhood. The quiet of something waiting.
Their mother stepped out first.
"Alright," she said gently, voice soft but firm. "Let's get everything inside."
That was it.
No welcome speech. No smile.
Just instructions.
They moved automatically—doors opening, trunks lifting, boxes shifting from metal to arms. Jason carried the heaviest things without being asked. Syd followed with smaller boxes stacked carefully in her grip. Dante held his Switch in one hand and a duffel bag in the other. Artemis carried his journal tucked against his chest like something fragile.
Inside, the house was clean.
The floors shined. The walls were freshly painted a soft gray. The air smelled faintly of polish and something else beneath it—something older.
It was nice.
It felt dead.
Rooms were chosen without argument. The twins' room sat at the end of the hallway upstairs. Jason's was across from Syd's. Their mother's room remained downstairs.
They unpacked in silence.
Drawers slid open. Suitcases unzipped. Hangers clicked against closet rods.
Eventually, Jason stepped into the twins' room. Syd followed quietly behind him.
The twins' room had two beds placed on opposite walls. A single window overlooked the tree line. The fog had thinned outside, but the woods still seemed thicker here than anywhere else in town.
Dante sat cross-legged on his bed, game paused now. Artemis sat at the small desk by the window, journal open again.
Syd lingered near the door.
She cleared her throat softly. "So…"
No one looked up.
She shifted her weight. "We're really here."
Jason leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
Silence.
Syd swallowed. "About… before. At the old house. We never really—"
"Don't." Jason's voice was calm. Not harsh. Just final.
Syd's shoulders tightened. "I just think maybe if we talked about it—"
"There's nothing to talk about."
Artemis' pen paused.
Dante's eyes flicked up briefly, then back down.
Syd stepped further into the room. "There is, Jason. We can't just pretend it didn't—"
"We're not pretending," he said, meeting her eyes now. His expression didn't crack. "We're moving on."
"To a town with a rusted welcome sign?" she whispered.
Jason didn't respond.
The air felt heavier suddenly.
Artemis slowly turned his head toward the window.
The trees beyond it swayed—not from wind, because there was none—but in a slow, collective shift. Like something large had brushed past them.
Dante noticed it too.
"Probably animals," he muttered, though he didn't sound convinced.
Syd hugged her arms around herself. "I just don't want it to follow us."
Jason's jaw tightened, barely.
"It won't," he said.
Outside, something pale shifted between the trees.
High up.
Watching.
Inside the woods, where the fog still clung low to the earth, something blinked.
Not fully closed.
Not fully open.
A splintered shape. Jagged at the edges.
An eye that didn't belong.
And it had already noticed them.
---
Back in the twins' room, Artemis slowly wrote a single sentence in his journal:
The woods feel awake.
Then he underlined it twice.
The house settled around them with a long, quiet creak.
And somewhere beyond the edge of Star Valley, something old shifted closer.