¨Prologue¨

2019.

Deep within the towering trees, in the bone-chilling cold of the night, sat a young woman with long, jet-black hair streaked with a strange white strand and sky-blue eyes. She scanned her surroundings with the aid of a flashlight, still gripping the handlebars of her crimson bicycle. Her gaze, filled with intrigue and curiosity, took in this part of Stowe Forest, which had seemed so beautiful by day, now a gloom worthy of nightmares. But this young woman would not give up. Instead, she pulled a camera from her pastel-blue backpack.

"Hello! This is Isabel Taylor!" she greeted cheerfully, as was her nature, gesturing with her left arm. "Well... As you can see, I'm in Blue Light territory. I came because I received coordinates from a mysterious letter," she narrated, looking at the camera with a slightly nervous smile. "I don't know where it will lead me, but I have faith that I'll be able to find my parents. See you soon!"

It was the last thing he said before continuing his journey deep into the vast forest, hoping to find something... that perhaps no longer existed.

The world is full of homicide cases, some cases of missing persons, and others of more ruthless killers, but they all had something in common: almost always the victim was found, saved, and the aggressor arrested.

"Vermont".

Oh, my poor Vermont, you've had to live through so much...

That northwestern state of that world power, once renowned for its beautiful mountains, stunning forests, and magnificent architecture, was overshadowed by a horrific event that drove hundreds to abandon its cold cities, a tragedy that erased the memories of so many people of all ages. It was dubbed "The 2009 Massacre." No one knows exactly what happened to them, but everyone knew it happened within the vast Stowe Forest. Sadly, the case was closed due to a lack of information, only to be reopened in 2017 following the disappearance of ten teenagers, relatives of the missing victims. Only one was found dead in the forest, which was later fenced off for local safety.

Now, the question of the inhabitants was not: "I will work and have a good life", "I will study as much as I can" or "I want some time for myself", but it became "Will I reach 20 without dying?".

All this was witnessed by a 14-year-old boy named "Daniel Brown," who, luckily, had a complete family, economic stability, a beautiful house, and he was good at school. Sadly, tragedy came to them when the family's and the boy's best friend, "Isabel Taylor," disappeared after 72 hours of having gone out on a bicycle to the most famous forest.

Oh God, have mercy on their souls...

Three days have passed since Isabel disappeared. My parents and I have been handing out these flyers to see if anyone else has seen her. The police are also searching tirelessly; I don't know why, but they've made her their top priority. Since Isabel disappeared, everything has been cold, empty, almost colorless, just endless worry. It's like going back to when I was 13, seeing families desperate for their children. This situation is terrifying. My only comfort was leaving these flyers in every corner of Montpelier, if necessary, just to hear someone say they saw her alive.

That's all I wanted...

The three of us were in the city center, putting up more of those missing person flyers with Isabel's face on them, "Missing," the worst word I could read or hear; when my mom saw me resting my forehead on that poster, she put her hand on my shoulder and tried to comfort me. I managed a little smile, but those traces of happiness vanished when I saw all the old flyers on those walls, all from kids like Isabel and me.

Boys who never returned home...

My dad was on a call with the investigators working on Isabel's case. He hung up and came back to Mom and me. He told us they still didn't know anything, but he was interrupted by his cell phone vibrating incessantly. After a few seconds on the call, he turned to look at Mom and me and said something that gave me hope. Later, we were at the police station. My parents were chatting with the officers inside the warm-toned building. I could only wait outside, watching the mountainous landscape, my mind reeling between fear and a tiny glimmer of hope. Very carefully, I pulled back the sleeve of my sweater on my right arm to see one of the few things I had of Isabel's with me: a gold bracelet. She had one too. We didn't know why they were with us, but it was like a small connection between us. Now I could only look at that shiny metal on my wrist before covering it again to keep from crying right there. Suddenly, the police station door opened abruptly. I looked up to find a middle-aged man in his fifties wearing a police uniform. I could barely recognize him because of his dull blond hair and beard. He had a badge on his suit that said "Jackson Miller." He looked down at me with deep seriousness, as if it wasn't the first time he had seen someone like me.

And I don't blame him...

I still remember the day they found his daughter dead...

-- Come in now, boy, they brought the evidence-- He announced gravely, then went back inside the small building.

So there we were, one of so many families waiting for a small clue that we would find our lost loved one, sitting in cold chairs in a colorful but peaceful hallway; soon after, an African American woman arrived wearing a light blue gown and a face mask hanging around her neck. She greeted us cordially, but my patience had run out two days ago.