The answer did not come as words.
At first.
It came as sound.
A low vibration rolled through the woods.
Subtle enough that Lily frowned without understanding why.
Strong enough that Mayson felt it in the ground beneath his feet.
The trees seemed to tremble.
Not physically.
Something older.
A resonance.
Like a forgotten note being struck after centuries of silence.
The figure standing at the edge of the clearing didn't move.
Neither did Mayson.
For several seconds nobody spoke.
Then Lily glanced between him and the distant stranger.
"Please tell me that's normal."
"It isn't."
"Great."
The response came automatically.
A defense mechanism.
Humor was easier than admitting the situation was becoming increasingly difficult to explain.
The stranger remained motionless.
Watching the deeper forest.
Waiting.
Almost respectfully.
As though whatever answered was something that deserved caution.
Or fear.
Neither possibility was encouraging.
Another vibration passed through the woods.
Stronger this time.
The air itself seemed heavier.
Then—
Movement.
Deep among the trees.
Not one person.
Several.
Mayson immediately counted four separate presences.
Then six.
Then eight.
All approaching from different directions.
Not converging on him.
Converging on the stranger.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Because it suggested something important.
The stranger hadn't arrived to find Mayson.
The stranger had arrived to be found.
Lily shifted uneasily.
"Why does it suddenly feel like everyone's staring at us?"
Because someone probably was.
Several someones, actually.
But that answer wouldn't help.
So Mayson said, "Good instincts."
"That isn't reassuring either."
"I know."
A branch snapped somewhere deeper in the forest.
Then another.
The distant stranger finally moved.
Only slightly.
A turn of the head.
A small adjustment.
But it revealed something important.
Recognition.
The stranger knew exactly who was arriving.
One by one, figures began emerging from the trees.
Far enough away to appear little more than silhouettes.
Yet even at this distance, Mayson noticed details.
None of them looked surprised.
None of them looked confused.
They looked expected.
Prepared.
As though they had received the same invitation.
Or the same warning.
The atmosphere changed immediately.
Not hostile.
Not friendly.
Something else.
The tension of people entering a room where everyone knows more than they're saying.
Mayson knew that feeling well.
He'd been living inside it for months.
Lily looked toward the gathering.
Then back at him.
Then back again.
"Okay."
A pause.
"Either I'm losing my mind or there are suddenly a lot of people in those woods."
"There are."
She stared.
"You can see them too?"
"Yes."
"Thank God."
"That's your takeaway?"
"It means I'm not hallucinating."
"Fair."
The figures continued gathering.
Nine now.
Maybe ten.
Difficult to tell through the trees.
None approached the clearing itself.
None acknowledged Mayson.
Which somehow felt more concerning.
Because ignoring him required intention.
And intention meant awareness.
His phone vibrated again.
Unknown number.
He didn't even need to check anymore.
The timing alone gave it away.
Still, he opened the message.
Leave immediately.
Another appeared.
This is not for you.
Then a third.
Yet.
Mayson's expression hardened slightly.
That last word mattered.
Yet.
Not now.
Not today.
But eventually.
The implication was obvious.
Whatever was happening here connected to him somehow.
Just not directly.
At least not yet.
Lily noticed his expression.
"More messages?"
"Yeah."
"Friends?"
"No."
"Enemies?"
"Maybe."
She blinked.
"That answer should concern me more than it does."
"It probably should."
Before she could respond, a new voice echoed through the trees.
Not loud.
Yet somehow every person present heard it.
"Show yourself."
The voice came from one of the gathered figures.
Deep.
Calm.
Authoritative.
Silence followed.
Then another voice answered.
Different direction.
Different person.
"You're late."
"We weren't summoned."
"You came anyway."
A pause.
Then:
"Of course we did."
Mayson watched carefully.
None of the speakers revealed themselves fully.
Faces remained hidden.
Bodies partially obscured by shadows and trees.
Deliberate.
Everyone here was hiding something.
That seemed to be a local tradition.
The stranger who had spoken about Black Hollow remained at the center of it all.
Still waiting.
Still watching.
Then something unexpected happened.
The stranger laughed.
Not loudly.
Just once.
A short sound carrying genuine amusement.
"You're all exactly the same."
Nobody answered.
The stranger continued.
"Three centuries pass."
A pause.
"Four."
Another pause.
"And still you gather in the dark pretending secrecy protects you."
Every figure in the woods became absolutely still.
The reaction was immediate.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
Like a room full of people suddenly reaching for weapons.
Lily noticed it too.
"What did they say?"
Mayson didn't answer.
Because his attention was fixed on one detail.
Three centuries.
Four.
The stranger wasn't speaking metaphorically.
They were speaking from experience.
Meaning either they were lying—
Or they were very, very old.
A familiar voice suddenly emerged from deeper among the trees.
One Mayson recognized instantly.
Lucien.
"You shouldn't have come here."
The words cut through the silence.
The stranger turned slightly.
"Lucien."
No surprise.
No hostility.
Recognition.
Which meant they knew each other.
And if Lucien knew them—
That narrowed the possibilities considerably.
Lucien stepped partially into view.
His expression was impossible to read from this distance.
But his posture was clear.
Alert.
Careful.
Respectful.
Not afraid.
Yet cautious.
Mayson had never seen him look quite like that before.
"You were told not to return," Lucien said.
The stranger smiled.
Even from a hundred yards away, Mayson could see it.
A genuine smile.
Almost nostalgic.
"I've been told many things."
The air seemed colder.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Like the woods themselves were holding their breath.
Then the stranger asked a question.
A simple question.
One that instantly transformed the atmosphere.
"Tell me."
Their gaze moved across the gathered figures.
Across the woods.
Across the hidden observers.
Across everyone.
"Who opened the archives?"
Silence.
Complete silence.
Nobody answered.
Nobody moved.
Nobody even pretended not to understand.
And in that silence, Mayson learned something important.
The archive break-in wasn't a local concern anymore.
Whatever had been stolen—
Whoever had taken it—
The consequences had reached far beyond Broken Falls.
The stranger waited.
Still smiling.
Still patient.
Then spoke again.
This time quieter.
More dangerous.
"Because if the wrong records were copied…"
The smile disappeared.
Instantly.
"…then all of you are already too late."
No one answered.
But for the first time since this began—
Mayson felt genuine unease ripple through every presence in the forest.
Including Lucien.
And that told him more than any explanation could have.