ISLE CALIGOMOUNTAIN DISTRICT [7:00 AM]
(The sun cut through the fog like a quiet blade, spilling over jagged rocks and thick pine forests. Birds didn't sing here. The wind carried a hum—low, electrical, unnatural. And below the shadow of Mount Velis, an entire village began to stir.)
(Stone cottages lined the gravel roads. No skyscrapers. No signals. The island refused change. Locals said it protected itself. Outsiders didn't last long here.)
(A school bell rang somewhere, echoing through dew-soaked silence.)
OLD WOMAN - (softly, to her grandson) Never trust the wind on Velis. It carries voices.
GRANDSON - (grinning) Ghost voices?
OLD WOMAN - (grim) Worse. Lost ones.
(The boy laughed it off. She didn't.)
(Cut to: A quiet home built from mountain timber, perched near the eastern cliffs. Inside, a young man stood near a window, holding a strange brass key between his fingers.)
LUCAS MIDNITE—19, silver-haired, eyes sharper than the average islander. He didn't belong here. Everyone could see it. Including him.
LUCAS - (to himself) Weird-ass thing… wonder what it's for.
(The key glinted oddly in the morning light, not rusted but not new either. It hummed faintly in his palm—but Lucas chalked it up to island myths. Everyone here had one.)
FATHER - (calling from the kitchen) You up?
LUCAS - (pocketing the key) Yeah. Just thinking.
FATHER - (appearing at the door, apron on) Dangerous habit on this island.
LUCAS - (smirking) I've noticed.
(They sat for breakfast. Bread, boiled eggs, and a silence filled with unspoken things.)
FATHER - (finally) You still planning on selling your granddad's old stuff?
LUCAS - (casual) Yeah. Just junk anyway.
(The father's fork stopped halfway to his mouth.)
FATHER - (slowly) What junk?
LUCAS - (shrugging) Some old papers, a broken lens, that key I found in the basement trunk.
(A pause.)
FATHER - (quiet) Lucas… what key?
LUCAS - (confused) The weird one. With the etched zero on the side.
(The father went pale. His hands dropped.)
FATHER - (standing) You didn't sell it yet, did you?
LUCAS - (awkward) Uh… yeah. Yesterday. Some tourist guy came through town, looked like he collects weird stuff. Paid decent.
(The father didn't respond. He just left the room, grabbed his coat, and headed to the truck.)
LUCAS - (following) Hey! What's going on?
FATHER - (snapping) Get in. Now.
(The truck's engine roared to life. They drove toward the mountains, the air thickening with every mile.)
MOUNTAIN BASE - ABANDONED BUNKER PATH [8:00 AM]
(The truck stopped abruptly. Lucas looked up. He hadn't been here in years.)
LUCAS - (quietly) Granddad's old trail?
FATHER - (grim) Not just a trail.
(They walked through overgrown shrubs and narrow ledges. The path curved until they reached a sealed metallic door built into the mountain.)
LUCAS - (stunned) What the hell?
(The father knelt beside the panel. A faint handprint symbol blinked red.)
FATHER - (to himself) He locked it before they came for him. He always said… if the key ever left the family…
(A sharp scream echoed from deeper in the woods. They turned. Near the edge of the trail, a man's body lay sprawled—face pale, eyes open, a massive cavity torn through his chest.)
LUCAS - (staggering back) That's… that's the guy I sold the key to!
FATHER - (in shock) We need to call the police—
(The father dialed. Static. No signal. Not here.)
LUCAS - (panicking) Why is there a hole in him?! What did that?
FATHER - (whispers) Something we buried… long ago.
(15 minutes later, police sirens could be heard faintly approaching. The father lit a flare by the trailhead.)
FATHER - (to Lucas) Stay close. Don't touch anything. Don't speak unless spoken to.
(The local police—two officers—arrived.)
OFFICER 1 - (stoic) Where's the body?
(The father pointed. The officers walked toward it.)
OFFICER 2 - (confused) What body?
(The corpse was gone. Nothing remained but a faint circle of disturbed leaves… and a slick trail leading into the forest.)
(Lucas stood frozen.)
LUCAS - (to himself) What is this place…?
(The wind picked up again. It wasn't cold. But Lucas shivered anyway.)