The sterile hum of the Oldest House seemed louder than usual as Trench sat in the dimly lit Board Room. Streams of data from the Resonance Analyzer scrolled across the central monitor. Though Reyes and Ryan had long since left for some much-needed rest, Trench remained. Something about the patterns felt familiar, almost like a half-remembered dream.
As the Analyzer's data compiled, one phrase kept repeating: "Crossing thresholds destabilized." The red-and-black graphs pulsated in erratic rhythms, converging on a nexus point. His hometown, Pinewood.
Trench stared at the graphs, his fingers gripping the edges of the desk. His earlier encounter with the humanoid entity replayed in his mind—its voice echoing: "You cannot run from this."
"Agent Trench," Director Northmoor's voice cut through his thoughts. Trench snapped his head up to see the director looming at the doorway. "Any progress?"
Trench hesitated, then gestured to the monitor. "The anomaly's energy isn't confined to the forest. It's spreading—seeping into Pinewood's urban area."
Northmoor's brow furrowed. "Evidence?"
Trench pointed to the screen. "The resonance spikes coincide with Pinewood's power outages and the reported hallucinations from local residents. The forest was just the epicenter. The anomaly is evolving, and fast."
Northmoor's expression darkened. "Then it's time you figure out why. Interview your parents. They might know more about this town's history than they let on."
Trench's stomach sank. The thought of confronting his parents about anything, let alone something this monumental, filled him with dread. "Yes, sir," he muttered reluctantly.
The small wooden house on Elm Street hadn't changed much in the years since Trench had left Pinewood. The peeling paint and overgrown garden spoke of neglect, but they also held the memories of a simpler, more complicated time. Trench stood on the creaky porch, his fist hovering over the door.
He'd barely knocked when his mother opened it. Her face lit up with surprise and something like hope. "Zachariah! You came back."
"Not for long," he replied, stepping inside. The familiar scent of lavender and old books hit him immediately. "Where's Dad?"
"In the den," she said, motioning toward the back. Her gaze lingered on him as if afraid he might disappear again.
Trench found his father seated in an old armchair, a newspaper in his lap. The older man looked up, his expression unreadable. "Didn't think you'd take the time to visit."
"I'm here because of my work," Trench said, his tone clipped. "Strange things have been happening in Pinewood. Disappearances, hallucinations, the forest acting… wrong."
His father frowned, setting the paper aside. "The forest has always been wrong. You know that."
Trench narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
His father's gaze was steady. "You think it's the first time Pinewood's had… incidents? You're chasing something older than this town."
Before Trench could press further, his pager buzzed violently. Pulling it from his pocket, he read the message: EMERGENCY: ANOMALY ESCALATION IN PINEWOOD. RESPOND IMMEDIATELY.
Trench raced out of the house, his parents following close behind. The once-quiet streets of Pinewood were now alive with chaos. Strange, distorted figures—similar to the ones he'd encountered in the forest—staggered through the streets. People screamed as the entities tore through anything in their path, leaving behind only devastation.
"Get back inside!" Trench barked at his parents, drawing his weapon. But it was too late. One of the figures—its elongated limbs and distorted features shimmering with red energy—lunged toward them.
Trench fired, the bullets ripping through its unstable form. It dissolved into dark wisps, but two more emerged from the shadows. He turned to his parents. "Run! Now!"
His father hesitated, his pride battling his fear. "We're not leaving you!"
"Go!" Trench roared, firing at another figure. His mother grabbed his father's arm, pulling him back toward the house.
The air grew heavier, vibrating with the same oppressive hum Trench had felt near the monolith. Cracks formed in the pavement, glowing with crimson light. A shrill, otherworldly sound filled the air, drowning out the screams and gunfire.
From the center of town, a massive rift tore through reality. The edges of the tear shimmered, revealing glimpses of something dark and unrecognizable. More entities poured out, their forms larger and more defined than the ones in the forest.
Trench fired until his clip was empty, then switched to his sidearm. He knew he couldn't stop them all. The Bureau needed to know what was happening here.
Trench made it back to his parents' house, only to find the door ajar. His chest tightened as he stepped inside, calling out. "Mom? Dad?"
The living room was in shambles, furniture overturned, blood smeared across the floor. And there, amidst the wreckage, lay his parents. Their bodies were mangled, their faces frozen in terror.
Trench dropped to his knees, his weapon slipping from his grasp. The weight of the moment crushed him, and for a second, all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart.
A distorted growl snapped him back to reality. One of the larger entities loomed in the doorway, its jagged form pulsating with red energy. Trench grabbed his weapon and fired without thinking, the shots tearing through the creature but barely slowing it down.
The house began to shake, the anomaly's energy ripping through its foundation. Trench scrambled to his feet, his mind screaming at him to run.
Outside, the chaos had worsened. Entire blocks were engulfed in crimson light, the rift in the town center growing larger. Trench spotted Reyes and Ryan near the Bureau's transport vehicle, firing at the advancing creatures.
"Trench!" Reyes shouted, waving him over. "We need to fall back!"
Trench ran toward them, his steps fueled by anger and grief. He climbed into the vehicle as Ryan floored the accelerator, the transport speeding away from the collapsing town.
"Pinewood…" Reyes murmured, looking back at the devastation. "It's gone."
Trench said nothing, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. He stared straight ahead, his mind replaying the final moments in his parents' house. Whatever this anomaly was, it had taken everything from him.
As the transport headed back to the Oldest House, one thought burned in Trench's mind: This isn't over.