Bravery Cave yielded nothing more than damp walls and unsettling echoes. Despite the anticipation stirred by the eerie portal in the Crow's Nest, the FBC team found no answers—only an oppressive sense of failure. Roland's frustration was palpable as they stepped back through the portal into the clearing. His sharp gaze swept over the team, landing squarely on Trench.
"That's it? A lot of drama and nothing to show for it?" Roland growled. His fists clenched as he paced, the disappointment radiating off him. "This was supposed to be our breakthrough, and now we're back at square one."
Trench kept his expression neutral, ignoring the pang of guilt tugging at him. The truth was, he wasn't convinced they'd hit a dead end. He just didn't know what the next step was yet.
"We need to regroup," Marshall said firmly, stepping in to temper Roland's anger. "There's still more to uncover, even if it's not here."
Roland grunted but didn't argue further. He waved the team toward the vehicles, muttering about bureaucratic fallout and wasted resources.
Back in the quiet streets of Iron Hill, Trench felt the pull to visit Mike Painter again. He found the boy sitting in the backyard of the Painter house, swinging idly on a creaky swing. The autumn air was brisk, and Mike's gaze was fixed on the horizon, lost in thought.
"Hey, Mike," Trench said, approaching cautiously. The boy didn't flinch, but his hands tightened on the chains of the swing.
"Did you find him?" Mike asked without looking up.
"I'm not really sure. Probably not yet, not really," Trench admitted. He crouched down, keeping his voice gentle. "But I think you know more than you've told me. And I think you want to tell someone."
Mike's shoulders sagged, and he stopped swinging. For a long moment, the only sound was the rustling of leaves in the wind. Finally, he spoke.
"I told you Eddie made Candle Cove," Mike said, his voice trembling. "He made it because he wanted people to feel what he felt—scared, alone, angry. It wasn't just a show. It was real. He… he used it to get back at them. The kids who made fun of us after Dad left. The ones who hurt him."
Trench's stomach twisted. "Eddie was behind the murders?"
Mike nodded, tears welling in his eyes. "At first, it was just the ones who bullied him the worst. He said they deserved it. But then he started talking about how everyone needed to pay. I tried to stop him. I told him it wasn't right."
"What happened?" Trench pressed.
Mike's voice dropped to a whisper. "We argued. He got mad. He tried to hurt me, so I… I fought back. I didn't mean to… but I only meant to take that hook away from him, not stab him with it." He looked up at Trench, his face pale and stricken. "I killed him. And then I just left him and pretended I didn't know what happened. When they found the other kids, his body disappeared. I don't know how. I don't know why the others ended up in the Crow's Nest like that. I swear I don't."
Trench's mind raced. He knew this confession was critical, but the weight of it—and what it meant for Mike—hit him hard.
"Am I going to be in trouble?" Mike asked, his voice small and filled with dread.
Trench hesitated, the enormity of the moment pressing down on him. Finally, he shook his head. "No, Mike. You're not in trouble. You did what you had to do."
The boy's relief was evident, though it was tinged with lingering guilt. "Thank you," he whispered.
Trench rose to his feet, his decision made. He couldn't let the Bureau—or Roland—destroy what little was left of Mike's life. "Stay safe, Mike. And if you ever need help, you call me. Understand?"
Mike nodded, and Trench walked away, his heart heavy but resolute.
Back at the Crow's Nest, Trench spun a sanitized version of events for Roland, omitting Mike's confession entirely. He painted the picture of a troubled boy whose brother's disappearance had driven him to fantasy, leaving the true horror buried.
Roland's frustration simmered. "So we're no closer to answers," he muttered. "Just great. Pack it up. We're heading back to the Oldest House."
The FBC team's return to the Oldest House was marked by an air of quiet tension. Trench avoided Roland's gaze as they debriefed the Communications Department, handing over the fragmented story to be shaped into a cover-up. The Bureau would chalk it up to urban legend and localized hysteria, sweeping the dark truths under the rug.
As the cover-up machine went to work, Trench retreated to his new office, the weight of his decision settling on him. He'd saved Mike from the Bureau's scrutiny, but the boy's haunting confession lingered in his mind.
Candle Cove wasn't over. Whatever Eddie had created, whatever forces had claimed his body, they were still out there, waiting. And Trench knew it was only a matter of time before they resurfaced.