Chapter 1: The Empty Swing

Chapter 1: The Empty Swing

The scent of freshly cut grass and late-summer rain hung in the air, a perfume unique to Havenwood. From the bay window of their living room, Elara Vance watched the world drowse under a blanket of grey clouds. She held a charcoal pencil, its tip hovering over the blank page of her sketchbook, but her eyes were fixed on the yard.

Her brother, Leo, was a whirlwind of six-year-old energy, his bright blonde hair a beacon against the deep green lawn. He was marching in a serious circle around the old oak tree, a platoon of one, his worn teddy bear, Barnaby, tucked under his arm.

“And then,” Leo announced to the indifferent squirrels, his voice carrying through the slightly open window, “Joseph said we have to build a fort. A real one. To keep the bad things out.”

Elara smiled, the pencil finally touching paper, sketching the determined set of her brother’s small shoulders. Joseph. For the last three months, Joseph was the sun in Leo’s solar system. He was the bravest explorer, the strongest monster-fighter, and the keeper of a thousand important secrets. According to Leo, Joseph was tall, “taller than the door,” and quiet, “like a shadow,” and he lived near the old, defunct mines on the edge of town. An imaginary friend with a surprisingly detailed backstory.

Her parents found it charming. “What a wonderful imagination,” her mother had cooed last week at dinner, after Leo solemnly explained that Joseph didn't like them to use the guest bathroom because “it has too many windows.” It was just a phase, they said, a harmless creation from a bright, lonely child.

Elara played along, but a part of her, the part that had spent seventeen years observing the world from the quiet corners of rooms, found Joseph a little… strange. He wasn't a talking dragon or a superhero. He was just a man, according to Leo, who had a lot of rules.

“Joseph says you shouldn't leave your curtains open at night, Elara,” Leo had told her once, his blue eyes wide and serious. “He says people can see in.”

She’d just ruffled his hair. “Don't worry, squirt. I’ll keep them closed.”

Now, watching him, she felt a familiar surge of protective affection. He was so small, so trusting. The world hadn't yet scraped away his shine. She was about to call him in for a snack when the front door opened, a full two hours earlier than she expected.

Her parents stood in the entryway, their faces stripped of color. Her mother’s hand was pressed to her mouth, and her father’s jaw was a hard, tight line. The air in the room instantly went from cozy to cold.

“Mom? Dad? What’s wrong?” Elara asked, putting her sketchbook aside.

Her father, Tom Vance, a man whose voice was usually a warm baritone, spoke in a clipped, strained tone. “Go get your brother. Bring him inside. Now.”

A knot of ice formed in Elara’s stomach. She slid the window open wider. “Leo! Time to come in!”

Leo stopped his march and looked over, pouting. “But Joseph and I are building!”

“Now, Leo!” her father’s voice boomed, sharp with an urgency she’d never heard before.

Startled, Leo dropped Barnaby and scurried inside, his face crumpling. Elara met him at the door, scooping him up. He was trembling. “What’s going on?” she whispered, directing the question to her parents.

Her mother, Sarah, finally lowered her hand. Her eyes were glassy. “It’s the Thorns,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “It’s Marcus.”

Marcus Thorne. The name sent a jolt through Elara. A sweet, freckle-faced kid from Leo’s first-grade class. He lived just a few streets over. He had a nervous laugh and a crush on his teacher. Just last week, Elara had been shelving books late at the town library when he’d come in with his mom. On their way out, he’d insisted on walking with her for the two blocks they shared, chattering about a video game while she smiled and listened. He was a good kid.

“What about Marcus?” Elara asked, her throat suddenly dry.

“He’s missing,” her father said, the words falling like stones into the quiet room. “He was playing in his yard after school. His mother went inside to answer the phone, and when she came back… he was gone. The swing was still moving.”

The image was horrifyingly vivid. An empty swing, rocking gently in the silent afternoon. A ghost of a child who was there just a moment before. Havenwood wasn't the kind of place where children went missing. It was a town of unlocked doors and block parties, a safe, quiet bubble insulated from the horrors of the outside world.

Or so they had thought.

Her mother knelt, pulling Leo into a fierce hug. “Oh, my baby. My sweet boy.”

Elara’s gaze was fixed on her brother. While her mother sobbed into his hair, Leo just stared over her shoulder, his expression unnervingly blank. There were no tears, no fear. Just a strange, placid calm. His blue eyes, usually so full of life and wonder, were like glass.

“Leo?” Elara said softly. “Did you hear what Dad said? About Marcus?”

He blinked slowly, as if surfacing from a deep thought. He didn't look at her. He looked past her, towards the window, towards the old oak tree in the yard.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” she prodded, a new, sharper fear beginning to prickle at her. “Marcus is your friend.”

Leo finally turned his head, his gaze meeting hers. The look in his eyes wasn't that of a scared six-year-old. It was something older, something chillingly serene. He spoke in a quiet, matter-of-fact whisper that was far more terrifying than any scream.

“Joseph doesn’t like noisy boys.”

Elara froze, her blood turning to ice. “What… what does that mean, Leo?”

Leo’s small hand came up and patted his mother’s back in a gesture of automatic comfort, but his eyes never left Elara’s.

“Marcus was noisy,” he repeated, his voice dropping even lower. “He walked you home from the library. Joseph saw. He said Marcus shouldn’t have done that. He said boys who look at you have to be quiet now.”