Chapter 1 — "The Vanishing"
The night Hawkins held its breath, the lights in the Wheeler basement flickered, but the boys barely noticed. Dice clattered across the table, papers rustled, Lucas swore under his breath, and Dustin sucked in a dramatic gasp as Mike announced the final roll of the night.
"Okay, okay—this fireball is either going to save your asses or doom us all," Mike said, leaning over the board like a general at war.
Will grinned, nervous but excited. Lucas tapped the table impatiently. Dustin held his inhaler like it was a lucky charm.
And behind them, leaning against the wall, half-watching, half daydreaming, was Elias Hart.
Elias wasn't part of the usual party, at least not originally. He had moved to Hawkins at the end of summer—quiet, polite, the kind of kid teachers adored and bullies ignored only because they weren't sure what to make of him. He didn't push to join the group; Mike had invited him one day at school after learning Elias liked comics and science fiction.
Since then, Elias drifted naturally into their orbit—gentle, a little reserved, but always ready with a soft laugh or a small act of kindness. He didn't talk much about himself. He never talked about the real reason he kept his hands in his pockets, or why he flinched whenever someone skinned their knee or cut their finger.
He didn't talk about the power.He didn't talk about the cost.
Tonight he mostly watched, but he cheered the boys on, smiling when Will rolled the saving throw and Lucas whooped.
"YES! We lived!" Dustin said, pumping a fist. "Take THAT, demogorgon."
Will's smile dimmed with mock seriousness. "It's just hiding… waiting…"
The basement lights flickered again.
This time, everyone noticed.
"Uh… Mike?" Lucas asked, glancing upward.
Mike shrugged. "Probably just the storm."
The storm hadn't arrived yet, but thunder grumbled far off like it was clearing its throat.
Karen Wheeler's voice echoed down the stairs. "Boys! It's 8:15, time to wrap up!"
Mike called back, "Five more minutes!"
"Not five more minutes—now!"
The boys groaned collectively.
Elias pushed off the wall lightly. "We can pick it up tomorrow?"
"Yeah," Mike said. "Same time?"
"Same time," Will agreed.
Dustin stuffed snacks into his backpack. Lucas grabbed his jacket. Elias moved slower, helping pick up papers from the floor.
"Elias, you need a ride home?" Mike asked.
Elias shook his head. "Nah. I'm close enough to walk."
"Okay. See you tomorrow."
The boys spilled out onto the street. The air was sharp with that pre-storm chill, the kind that made everything feel still. Cars hummed faintly in the distance, and a lone dog barked somewhere down the block.
They biked in a cluster until Mirkwood, where they split off like usual—Dustin heading left, Lucas straight ahead.
Will paused his bike, looking at Elias.
"You sure you don't want to bike with me part of the way?"
Elias smiled. "I'll be okay. See you tomorrow."
Will nodded, pushed off, and pedaled away.
Elias adjusted his backpack strap and started walking down the quiet sidewalk toward home. Every few seconds he glanced back, making sure the boys were safe, already feeling that prickling, rising tension in the air—like something wrong was building, invisible but heavy.
The streetlights flickered again.And again.
He swallowed hard.
Not now. Please not now.
—
THE ROAD HOME
Elias's house was only a few blocks from Will Byers's. Old enough to creak, small enough that sound carried everywhere. His mom was probably working a late shift at the diner and his dad… well, his dad wasn't in the picture anymore, not since the incident last winter that Elias refused to remember in detail.
He breathed in slowly, trying to shake off the familiar dread.Whenever the lights flickered near him, it usually meant someone was about to get hurt.
He turned onto the road leading past the woods.
Up ahead, maybe thirty yards, Will was still biking—pedaling hard to beat the incoming rain.
Then the screech.
Elias froze.
The sound was metallic, sharp, and horribly out of place. Will's bike skidded sideways on the road, the tires squealing, and Will crashed to the ground hard.
"Will!" Elias sprinted.
When he reached him, Will was sitting up, wincing and holding his elbow, eyes wide with fear.
"You okay?" Elias knelt beside him.
"I—Yeah. I think so. My tire hit something." Will breathed fast, adrenaline sharp in his voice. "I didn't see it."
Elias touched his shoulder gently. "Let me see your arm."
Will uncurled his fingers from around his elbow. It was scraped, bleeding a little. A small injury—but enough.
Elias hesitated.
His heart pounded like a fist in his chest.
He didn't have to use his ability. Not on a scratch.
But Will was shaking.
And that was enough for him.
He placed his hand lightly over Will's scraped elbow.
Will frowned. "Elias? What—"
A warm jolt surged through Elias's arm.
The pain hit instantly—sharp, stinging, electric—and he sucked in a breath as the scrape on Will's elbow faded, the blood drying, the skin reknitting.
When Elias pulled his hand away, his own elbow was bleeding.
Will stared at him, horrified.
"What… what did you just do?"
Elias shook his head. "Nothing. It's fine. You just—hallucinated. It's dark."
But Will wasn't convinced. His eyes were huge.
"Elias… your elbow…"
"It's fine," Elias repeated softly. "Really."
A long silence.
Then another flicker—this time the woods lighting up in a pulse.
Will's attention snapped toward his house. "I gotta go."
"I'll walk with you," Elias said.
"No," Will said quickly. "You're hurt. You should head back."
Elias hesitated—but Will was already climbing onto his bike. He pushed off, wobbling slightly, then speeding toward his house without looking back.
Elias watched him go, his stomach churning.
The lights flickered one more time.
A cold gust tore through the trees.
A distant, animalistic roar echoed—wrong and wet and impossible.
And then—
Silence.
—
THE BYERS HOUSE — MINUTES LATER
Elias jogged up to Will's house just as the storm finally broke, rain drumming on the roof like frantic fingers.
The lights in the house were on. Jonathon's voice drifted from inside. Joye's worried call echoed through the windows.
Will's bike lay abandoned in the yard.
Elias's stomach dropped.
He knocked on the door. Joyce answered, frantic. "Elias? Have you seen Will?! He didn't come home!"
Elias's throat tightened. "I… I saw him crash. He scraped his arm. But he got back up and biked home. He should be here."
Joyce shook her head violently. "He's not! He's not here!"
Jonathan called from the hallway, "I checked the shed. He's not there either."
Elias's pulse roared in his ears.
The lights flickered again.
This is my fault.I should've walked him home.I should've kept him safe.
Joyce grabbed his shoulders, trembling. "Think, honey—did you see him after the crash? Did anyone follow him?"
"No," Elias whispered. "He was alone."
Jonathon suddenly asked, "Elias—are you okay? You're bleeding."
Elias stepped back. "It's nothing. I have to—I have to go."
He turned and ran out into the rain.
He didn't know where he was going.Only that something was in the woods.And Will wasn't there.
But Elias knew—just knew—that something terrible had happened.
And he was afraid that this time, no amount of taking someone else's pain would be enough to help.