Eldermire was never a bustling town, but after the blackout, it felt like a ghost of itself. The streets, usually filled with the chatter of neighbors and the occasional bark of a stray dog, were now eerily silent. People whispered instead of talked, their voices tinged with fear as though they didn't want whatever was lurking in the dark to hear them.
Will Jackson walked down Main Street, his bike beside him, the tires crunching against the gravel. The streetlights, still out from the night before, stood like silent sentinels, their bulbs cold and lifeless. A faint chill hung in the air, making Will pull his hoodie tighter around him.
His mind raced, replaying the events in the woods. He could still hear the hum of the portal, see the blinding blue light that had swallowed his friends, and feel the strange pull in his chest as if he, too, had almost been taken.
He couldn't go to the police—what would he say? "Hi, Sheriff Mills, my friends disappeared into a glowing hole in the air"? No, that wouldn't work. And his parents? They'd either ground him for sneaking into the woods or send him to therapy. No one would believe him.
But he had to figure this out. Carter and Oliver were out there somewhere—he was sure of it. He just didn't know where.
---
Will's first stop was the woods. He left his bike at the edge of the trees and trudged back to the clearing where the portal had appeared. The ground was still scorched, the air faintly tinged with the smell of ozone. Kneeling down, Will brushed his fingers over the charred soil. It was warm, as though the portal had only just closed.
He pulled out his notebook and started sketching the scene, marking every detail he could remember: the way the portal had pulsed, the strange hum, the way the light had seemed alive. His pencil scratched furiously against the paper, his frustration growing with every incomplete thought.
"What were you?" he whispered to the empty air. "And where did you take them?"
A sudden rustle in the bushes made him jump. Will's heart pounded as he whipped his head around, his eyes scanning the trees.
"Hello?" he called out, his voice shaky.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, a squirrel darted out from behind a tree, chittering angrily before disappearing up the trunk.
Will let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Get it together, Jackson," he muttered to himself.
He spent the next hour searching the clearing, but there was nothing else to find. Frustrated, he shoved his notebook back into his backpack and headed home.
---
The next day, Will woke up with a single goal: to find answers. He skipped breakfast, grabbed his backpack, and headed straight for the Eldermire Library.
The library was one of the oldest buildings in town, its stone walls and arched windows giving it the look of a medieval fortress. Inside, it was dimly lit, the air heavy with the smell of old books and varnished wood.
Mrs. Hargrove, the librarian, was perched behind the front desk, her glasses perched on the tip of her nose as she flipped through a thick volume. She looked up as Will entered, her sharp eyes narrowing.
"Back again, Jackson?" she asked, her voice dry and unimpressed.
"I need to do some research," Will said, striding past her.
Mrs. Hargrove sighed, muttering something about kids these days, but didn't stop him. Will made his way to the far corner of the library, where the books on mythology and the supernatural were kept.
He ran his fingers along the spines of the books, scanning the titles: Legends of the Unknown, Gateways and Realms, The Veil Between Worlds. His fingers paused on one that seemed out of place. The cover was plain and unmarked, its leather binding cracked with age. Pulling it from the shelf, Will opened it to find the title stamped faintly on the first page: The Shattergate Chronicles.
His pulse quickened as he flipped through the pages. The book was filled with descriptions of portals—Shattergates, as the author called them. They were described as windows between worlds, created by ancient crystals that could manipulate time and space. But the text also spoke of dangers: instability, unpredictable outcomes, and a price for every journey.
"For every passage through the gate, something must be left behind," Will read aloud, his voice barely above a whisper.
The words sent a chill down his spine. What had been left behind when Carter and Oliver disappeared? And what price had been paid?
Suddenly, the lights above him flickered, their steady hum turning into a faint buzz. Will froze, his eyes darting around the room.
"Just a power surge," he muttered, trying to convince himself.
But then he saw it—a shadow flitting past the edge of his vision.
"Hello?" he called out, his voice echoing in the empty library.
There was no answer.
When he turned back to the book, his heart stopped. A new line of text had appeared on the page, written in spidery handwriting that hadn't been there before:
You're not ready to face what lies beyond.
Will slammed the book shut, his hands shaking.
---
The Warning
Will stood frozen, his heart pounding as he stared at the closed book. The room felt colder, the air heavier, as though the library itself had shifted. He shoved the book into his backpack and bolted out of the corner, nearly knocking over a stack of encyclopedias.
"Leaving so soon?" Mrs. Hargrove called from her desk, her voice laced with suspicion.
"Yeah, uh, found what I needed," Will stammered, not stopping to explain.
He burst out into the daylight, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the sun. His bike was where he'd left it, leaning against the library steps. Climbing on, he pedaled hard, his mind racing.
The words on the page haunted him. Who—or what—had written them? And what did it mean that he wasn't ready?
As he turned onto Elm Street, he noticed the townspeople whispering in small groups. They cast nervous glances at the darkened streetlights and the flickering power lines overhead.
"End of days, I tell ya," muttered old Mr. Rigby, the town's resident conspiracy theorist.
Will ignored them, his focus set on the next place marked on the strange map that had appeared from the crystal: Mrs. Cooper's house.
---
Mrs. Cooper's Secret
Mrs. Cooper's house stood at the end of Maple Avenue, its sagging roof and peeling paint giving it a foreboding look. The cats were everywhere, lounging on the porch, perched on windowsills, and prowling the yard.
Will parked his bike by the curb and approached the house cautiously. The cats watched him, their eyes gleaming in the dim light. One hissed as he passed, its tail flicking sharply.
He hesitated at the door, his hand raised to knock. What would he even say? "Hi, Mrs. Cooper, I think you might be involved in some interdimensional weirdness"?
Before he could overthink it, the door creaked open.
Mrs. Cooper stood in the doorway, her piercing eyes locked on Will.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice sharp and impatient.
Will swallowed hard. "I, uh, wanted to ask about the woods. The blackout. You know, weird stuff happening."
Mrs. Cooper narrowed her eyes, leaning against the doorframe. "Weird stuff? You mean like nosy kids showing up at my door?"
"Uh…" Will faltered, his confidence wavering.
Just as he was about to backtrack, a sound caught his attention. It was faint but unmistakable: a low, steady hum, like the one from the portal.
It was coming from inside the house.
Mrs. Cooper noticed the change in his expression and followed his gaze. Her face hardened.
"You shouldn't have come here," she said, her voice low and dangerous.
Before Will could respond, she stepped aside, revealing a trapdoor in the floor. It was slightly ajar, blue light seeping through the cracks.
"What's down there?" Will asked, his curiosity overpowering his fear.
Mrs. Cooper didn't answer. Instead, she stepped forward and whispered something under her breath. The trapdoor slammed shut with a loud bang, and the cats around the house hissed in unison.
"You need to leave," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Will took a step back, his heart racing. "I'm not leaving until I know what's going on."
Mrs. Cooper's eyes glinted dangerously. "You think you're ready for answers? You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."
The ground beneath Will's feet seemed to vibrate, the hum growing louder.
"Leave," she repeated, her voice rising.
Will didn't need to be told a third time. He turned and bolted, the cats scattering as he ran down the steps and grabbed his bike.
---
The Stranger Returns
That night, Will couldn't sleep. He sat at his desk, the crystal glowing faintly in his hand. The map it had shown him earlier was burned into his memory, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it.
As he turned the crystal over, examining its smooth surface, the room suddenly grew colder.
"Will Jackson," a voice said, deep and resonant.
Will spun around, his heart leaping into his throat. The cloaked man from the night before stood in the corner of his room, shrouded in shadow.
"How did you—" Will began, but the man raised a hand, silencing him.
"There isn't much time," the man said. "You've seen the Shattergate. You know what it can do."
"I don't know anything," Will shot back. "That's the problem!"
The man stepped forward, the glow of the crystal illuminating his face. It was pale and gaunt, his eyes hollow but piercing. "The answers you seek lie beyond the gate. But you must be careful. The Shattergate is not just a doorway—it is a test."
"A test of what?"
The man didn't answer. Instead, he reached into his cloak and produced another crystal, larger than the one Will held. This one pulsed with a darker, more ominous light.
"This is the anchor," the man said. "It will stabilize the portal long enough for you to pass through. But once you enter, there is no guarantee you'll find your way back."
Will stared at the crystal, his mind reeling. "Why are you helping me?"
The man's lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. "Because if you fail, the gate will consume more than just your friends. It will consume everything."
The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. — The Aftermath