The weekend arrived with the kind of gray sky that pressed down on everything. It wasn't stormy or dramatic—just dull, flat, heavy. A quiet backdrop that matched the weight in my chest.
I spent most of Saturday indoors, notebook open in front of me, Ethan's documents spread across the floor like a crime scene. I wasn't even reading them anymore—just staring, waiting for the pieces to click.
That's when my phone buzzed.
Henry Williams:yo. feel like disappearing again?
I smiled despite myself. We hadn't done a "hunt" since the start of the semester. Things had been heavier lately, even for him. But something about his message felt right. Familiar. Simple.
Me:where to?
Henry:old gym. meet you there in 15.
The "old gym" wasn't on any student tour. It was part of the original campus structure—unused, sealed off after the new facilities were built. It had the reputation of being haunted, which made it a perfect hunting ground for us.
I grabbed my backpack—ID card inside—and made my way across campus. The wind had picked up, cold against my face, and as I passed by the science building, I spotted Ethan standing near the bike racks. Just standing. Watching the sky.
He didn't say anything when he saw me. Just nodded once. Almost like a silent blessing.
Henry was already at the gym's side entrance, a crowbar in one hand and that reckless grin on his face.
"I figured you'd want something to break today," he said, tapping the rusted door.
Inside, the gym was darker than I remembered. Dust coated the bleachers. Broken glass crunched underfoot. The faint outlines of faded court lines still marked the wooden floor. Echoes lived here—old cheers, old games, old ghosts.
We didn't speak at first. We just walked.
"Do you ever think about how this place used to be full of noise?" Henry asked eventually. "Crowds. Matches. Maybe even dreams?"
I glanced at him. That wasn't like him.
"I used to watch my brother play here," he said. "Before he graduated. He was the school's star. Everyone loved him."
"You never mentioned a brother."
"I don't talk about him much."
I waited.
"He burned out," Henry finally said. "Grades tanked. Quit the team. Got into fights. No one really knew why. They just stopped talking about him. Like he never mattered."
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable—it was shared.
"Did he know James Bennett?" I asked softly.
Henry looked at me sharply. "Yeah. He did. He said Bennett promised him a scholarship path. Said he'd 'handle things.' Next thing I knew, my brother was failing everything. Said it was his fault. Said he messed up."
But I knew better now. It was never a coincidence.
"Bennett does that," I said quietly. "He builds you up. Then watches you fall."
Henry didn't respond right away. He just walked over to the center of the court and sat down, legs crossed.
"We were just kids," he muttered. "Believing in adults who talked pretty."
I joined him.
For a long time, we sat in silence. And then something strange happened.
A noise. Faint. From above.
We both looked up at the same time. A small hatch near the gym rafters was ajar. A place even we hadn't noticed before.
Henry was on his feet instantly. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Always."
We found the ladder tucked behind an old equipment cage. It creaked under our weight, but it held. At the top, the hatch opened into a narrow crawlspace, dusty and half-collapsed. But it led somewhere—an office. One we hadn't known existed.
Inside, everything was covered in white cloth and thick cobwebs. But on the desk, untouched by time, was a locked metal file box.
Henry let out a low whistle. "Bingo."
We didn't open it right away. We just looked at it. Something about that box felt final. Heavy. Like it would tip the whole board.
"Do you think we're ready for what's inside?" I asked.
Henry looked at me, and for once, his grin was gone.
"No," he said. "But that never stopped us before."
We took the box. And as we descended from that forgotten room, the sky outside finally broke, soft rain beginning to fall.
It wasn't cleansing. Not yet.
But it meant something was coming.