The fog hung low over Sugar Bay that night, thick as day-old chowder and just as suffocating. In the warm glow of the Carlyle Café, Milinah leaned over the counter, her pen scrawling numbers on an order slip. Business was steady—locals huddled at corner tables, nursing cups of coffee while the sea air clawed at the windows. Outside, the streetlamps barely penetrated the mist, their halos shrinking like they were afraid of what was out there.
Milinah’s thoughts drifted, as they often did, to the lighthouse and its silent testament to secrets she wished she’d never unearthed. The whispers about her sister Mariah swirled in her head like the fog itself—always there, always just out of reach. She couldn’t shake the weight of her last conversation with Declan, his voice low and grave as he laid out the truth—or what passed for it in a town like this. Sugar Bay had more ghosts than residents, and every one of them had a story to tell.
The bell above the café door chimed softly, startling her. She glanced up, expecting a customer, but the doorway was empty. Just more fog seeping in. Shaking her head, she returned to her work, the scratch of her pen the only sound in the café.
Then she heard it—a voice, faint and feather-light, brushing against her ear. She froze, her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t the murmur of a customer or the distant hum of the ocean. It was close, intimate, as if whispered from just over her shoulder.
“Milinah…”
She turned sharply, her heart leaping, but there was no one there. Just the empty café behind her, the chairs stacked neatly, the scent of coffee lingering in the air.
“Hello?” she called out, her voice trembling. Silence answered her.
She pressed a hand to her chest, willing her heart to steady. It had to be her imagination, she told herself. Too many sleepless nights, too many unanswered questions. But the way the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end told her otherwise.
The voice returned over the next few days, each time clearer, each time more insistent. It whispered snatches of words she couldn’t quite piece together. By the third night, she could no longer ignore it. The whispers spoke of places—locations in Sugar Bay she hadn’t thought about in years. The old library, the abandoned fish cannery, the crumbling boathouse on the edge of town. And they carried something else, something that made her knees weak and her breath hitch—a familiarity she hadn’t felt in years. The voice was Mariah’s. It had to be.
Milinah didn’t wait long to bring Declan into the fold. He listened in his usual way, leaning back in his chair, his eyes hooded but sharp. He didn’t mock her or dismiss her. No, Declan Cross had seen enough of Sugar Bay’s shadows to know better than that.
“So you’re saying your sister’s giving you directions,” he said, rolling a cigarette between his fingers. “Through whispers. From the fog.”
Milinah nodded, clutching her mug like it might ground her. “I know how it sounds, but it’s her, Declan. I know it is. She’s… she’s trying to show me something.”
Declan struck a match, his eyes narrowing as he lit the cigarette. “Or someone’s trying to lead you somewhere. Question is, do they want you to find something—or to end up like your sister?”
The words hit her like a gut punch, but she couldn’t argue. Declan had a way of cutting to the quick, even if it left you bleeding.
The next morning, they followed the first whisper’s clue to the old library. It had been shuttered for years, the windows boarded up and the front door chained. They crept inside through a broken side window, their flashlights cutting through the gloom. The air was thick with dust and the scent of mildew, the shelves standing like forgotten sentinels.
In the far corner, they found it—a single book lying on the floor, its title catching the light: The Fog’s Edge. Milinah’s hands trembled as she picked it up, the weight of it feeling unnatural. Inside the cover was an inscription, the ink faded but legible: “For M., the truth lies within.”
“This is a breadcrumb,” Declan muttered, his tone grim. “Someone’s leaving a trail. Question is, where does it lead?”
The books kept coming, each one discovered in a new location whispered to Milinah in the dead of night. Shadows at Dusk. The Watcher’s Oath. The Silence Beneath. Each title more ominous than the last, each inscription hinting at a larger truth, a final answer waiting just out of reach. The trail drew them deeper into Sugar Bay’s underbelly, into places that felt alive with secrets and malice.
By the time they reached the old boathouse, Milinah’s nerves were frayed. The whispers had grown louder, more insistent, their tone shifting from guiding to urgent. The fog seemed denser here, curling around their ankles like something alive.
The book they found inside was different. Its cover was black and featureless, its pages blank save for a single line scrawled in the center of the first page: “The answers are in the mist.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Declan growled, his jaw tight. He didn’t like mysteries he couldn’t solve with a punch or a bullet.
Milinah’s voice was barely above a whisper. “It means we have to go back. To the lighthouse.”
Declan cursed under his breath, but he didn’t argue. The lighthouse had been the start of all this, and now it seemed it would be the end.
They returned that night, the fog so thick it felt like wading through molasses. The lighthouse loomed above them, a silent sentinel against the dark. As they stepped inside, the whispers swelled, surrounding them, filling the air like a chorus.
Milinah clutched Declan’s arm, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. “Do you hear it?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“I hear it,” he said, his eyes scanning the shadows. His hand rested on the revolver at his hip.
The whispers led them upward, the spiral staircase groaning under their weight. At the top, they found the lantern room empty, save for the fog that pressed against the cracked glass, swirling like it had a mind of its own.
Then they saw it—something moving in the mist. A shape, tall and thin, its edges blurred but unmistakably human. It stepped closer, and the air grew colder, the whispers rising to a fever pitch.
Milinah’s voice broke the spell. “Mariah?” she called, her voice cracking with hope and fear.
The shape hesitated, its head tilting as if listening. Then it lunged.
Declan’s hand was a blur, his revolver roaring, the sound deafening in the confined space. The shape recoiled, the mist dissolving around it, but the whispers remained, echoing in their ears.
When the fog cleared, they were alone. The books, the whispers, the shape in the mist—it had all led to this moment, and yet they were no closer to the truth.
Milinah sank to the floor, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Declan knelt beside her, his hand resting on her back. “We’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it. “This isn’t over.”
And deep down, she knew he was right. Sugar Bay didn’t give up its secrets easily. But neither would they.
Echoes – Part 2: Into the Fog
The fog came down heavier than usual that evening, blanketing Sugar Bay in a suffocating veil of damp gray. Declan leaned against his car, his coat collar pulled high against the chill, waiting for Milinah. The whispers had returned to her in fragmented bursts, and this time, they carried the name of a place neither of them could ignore—the Carlyle boathouse. It had long since fallen into disrepair, its doors warped and its roof bowed from decades of neglect, but for Milinah, it held the weight of her sister’s memory like an anchor.
As she approached, her silhouette hazy in the fog, Declan could see the resolve etched on her face, shadowed by something deeper—fear, perhaps, or hesitation. She clutched the black book they’d found at the boathouse with white-knuckled determination, as if the answers it promised could shield her from the unknown ahead.
“They want us to find something there,” she said, her voice steady but quiet. “It’s where she… where it started.”
Declan nodded, flicking the last embers of his cigarette away. “Then we finish it.”
The road to the Carlyle boathouse was narrow and unforgiving, winding through thick trees that shivered under the weight of the fog. Milinah said little during the drive, her gaze fixed out the window as if searching for some sign—anything that could connect her to Mariah again.
The boathouse was even worse than Declan had imagined. Its sagging timbers were riddled with holes, the entire structure leaning like a drunk who’d lost his last crutch. As they stepped inside, the air grew colder, carrying the scent of mildew and seawater. Declan’s flashlight revealed a stretch of crates piled haphazardly near the back wall, each marked with an anchor-and-moon symbol he’d seen before.
“They’re everywhere,” Milinah murmured, tracing the insignia with her finger. “This town, the fog—they’re all connected, aren’t they? Mariah knew it, and she wanted to tell me.”
Declan crouched to inspect the crates, prying one open to find stacks of weathered books bound with twine. Their spines carried cryptic titles like The Fog’s Gatekeeper and Secrets Beneath the Tide. He pulled one free, flipping through brittle pages filled with maps, handwritten notes, and diagrams that painted a chilling picture of Sugar Bay’s history. The fog wasn’t just natural—it was cultivated, controlled. And it wasn’t just hiding secrets; it was protecting something.
As they continued searching, Milinah heard it again—Mariah’s voice. Soft and fleeting, it swirled through the fog like smoke, leading her deeper into the boathouse. Declan followed, his flashlight cutting through the mist, until they reached a trapdoor hidden beneath the warped floorboards. Milinah froze, her breath hitching as the whispers grew louder, more insistent.
Declan crouched, his hand brushing hers in quiet reassurance before he yanked the trapdoor open. Beneath it lay a staircase descending into darkness, the damp air rushing up like the breath of something waiting below.
“You ready for this?” Declan asked, his tone steady but tense.
Milinah nodded, stepping forward into the void. “I have to be.”
The space beneath the boathouse was worse than they’d imagined—an underground room filled with shattered lanterns, rusted tools, and walls scrawled with cryptic symbols. In the center of the room stood a weathered table, its surface littered with books, photographs, and papers stained with time and water.
Milinah froze as she recognized one of the photographs. It was her sister, standing beside a man whose face had been scratched out, just like the one they’d found at the lighthouse. Beside it lay another book titled Echoes in the Fog, its cover marked with the same anchor-and-moon insignia that had haunted their investigation.
Declan picked it up, his jaw tightening as he flipped through its pages. Inside were detailed accounts of experiments conducted in Sugar Bay—studies on controlling the fog, harnessing its suffocating presence to keep the town isolated and its secrets buried. It wasn’t a natural phenomenon; it was a weapon.
“They created it,” Declan muttered, his voice low and sharp. “Whoever—or whatever—they are, they’re using it to hide something.”
Milinah’s grip tightened on the photograph, her knuckles white. “And Mariah got caught in it.”
The whispers grew louder, echoing through the underground chamber with a force that made Milinah shiver. She closed her eyes, letting the fragments of her sister’s voice guide her to another corner of the room where she found a rusted safe. Her breath caught as she traced her fingers over its surface, finding the initials “M.C.” scratched into the metal.
“It’s hers,” she whispered. “She left this for us.”
Declan knelt beside her, pulling out his lockpick set with practiced precision. The safe clicked open, revealing a stack of letters tied with twine and another photograph—this one showing Mariah standing alone at the edge of the cliffs near the lighthouse. She looked frightened, her eyes darting toward the fog as if she knew what was coming.
Milinah’s hands trembled as she read the first letter, Mariah’s handwriting scrawled in uneven lines. “They’re watching me,” it began. “I’m sorry, Mil, but I had to leave. They won’t let me stay, and I can’t put you in danger. I’ll be at the lighthouse tonight. Please don’t follow me.”
Her tears fell silently, splattering against the paper like raindrops. Declan rested a hand on her shoulder, his gaze hard as he scanned the letters for any mention of the anchor-and-moon organization. But there was nothing—just fragments of fear, regret, and love.
“She knew they’d come for her,” Declan said. “And she tried to protect you.”
Milinah nodded, her resolve hardening. “But they didn’t stop her. They didn’t stop me either. We’re going to finish this.”
Echoes – Part 2: Unseen Forces
The fog was worse than ever, a suffocating mass that swallowed the streets, drowning Sugar Bay in silence. Declan sat in his car outside the Carlyle boathouse, the engine idling low. His hand rested on the wheel, but his focus was on Milinah, who stood just a few feet away. The dim light from his headlamps softened her features, but her face was set with resolve. The book she clutched to her chest trembled slightly, whether from the chill or something deeper, he wasn’t sure.
“We’re sure about this?” Declan finally asked, his tone light but probing.
Milinah turned to him, her expression guarded. “You don’t have to be here if you’re not.”
Declan smirked faintly, shutting off the engine and stepping out of the car. The fog immediately closed around him, the scent of salt and decay heavy in the air. “Didn’t say I wasn’t. Just making sure you’re ready for whatever we find.”
Milinah’s fingers tightened on the book’s spine. “I have to be.”
The boathouse loomed before them, more corpse than structure. Its roof sagged under its own weight, and the timbers were streaked black from years of storms and neglect. Declan pushed open the creaking door, and the pair stepped inside, the fog lingering like an unwelcome guest.
The room was just as they’d left it, a mess of crates, ropes, and rotted nets scattered haphazardly. The air was damp, filled with the unmistakable tang of mildew. Declan swept his flashlight across the space, the beam catching on broken windows and the faint shimmer of standing water.
“There.” Milinah pointed toward the far wall, where the hidden staircase to the lower chamber waited. The whispers had returned the night before, relentless and clear. They had pressed a single command into her mind, drawing her back here, to this place.
“You first,” Declan said, his voice low. His flashlight stayed trained on the stairs as Milinah descended, her footsteps cautious but steady. He followed close behind, one hand on the revolver tucked in his coat.
The chamber below was colder, the air thick enough to choke on. The walls were slick with condensation, the faint sound of dripping water echoing in the gloom. At the center of the room stood the table they’d uncovered during their last visit, its surface littered with books, photographs, and fragments of papers. But tonight, something was different.
A new book sat on the table, its black cover gleaming faintly in the flashlight’s glow. Milinah’s breath caught as she approached it, the whispers in her mind amplifying until they were a roar. She reached out, hesitating for just a moment before her fingers brushed the book’s surface. The title was embossed in silver: The Last Witness.
Declan moved to her side, his gaze narrowing. “That wasn’t here before.”
Milinah opened the book, her hands trembling. The pages were filled with scrawled handwriting, names and locations interspersed with frantic notes. At the bottom of the first page, a single phrase was underlined: “The fog remembers.”
“What does it mean?” Milinah asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Declan’s eyes scanned the page. “Nothing good.”
The air grew colder as they flipped through the book, each page unraveling a story of control and fear. The names were familiar—locals from Sugar Bay, people who had vanished without explanation or left town under strange circumstances. The fog wasn’t just a natural phenomenon; it was a weapon, wielded by unseen hands to keep the town silent.
“Mariah’s name is here,” Milinah whispered, pointing to an entry near the back. “And Ellis.”
Declan’s jaw tightened. “They knew her. They knew them both.”
The whispers surged again, louder this time, tugging at Milinah like an invisible force. She turned toward the far wall, her flashlight catching on a narrow passageway she hadn’t noticed before. The whispers pressed her forward, drawing her into the darkness.
“Wait,” Declan called, but she was already moving.
The passageway was tight, the walls pressing in on either side. The whispers grew clearer with each step, their words sharp and urgent. Declan kept close, his flashlight cutting through the dark. At the end of the passage was another door, this one newer, its surface smooth and unblemished. Milinah reached for the handle, hesitating.
“Do you hear it?” she asked.
Declan shook his head, his eyes fixed on the door. “Hear what?”
“The whispers,” she said, her voice trembling. “It’s her, Declan. It’s Mariah.”
She pushed the door open, revealing a room that was startlingly well-preserved. The walls were lined with bookshelves, each crammed with tomes that looked ancient and fragile. At the center of the room was a pedestal, and atop it rested a single book, its cover blank.
Milinah approached it slowly, the whispers intensifying with each step. She reached out, her fingers brushing the book’s surface. The whispers stopped.
Declan moved to her side, his flashlight scanning the room. “What is this place?”
Milinah opened the book, revealing a single line written in stark black ink: “The fog binds us all. Do not seek what lies beyond.”
A chill ran down Declan’s spine as the air grew heavy, the fog seeping into the room through cracks in the walls. He turned toward the door, his instincts screaming danger.
“Milinah, we need to leave. Now.”
The fog thickened, curling around their feet and rising fast. The whispers returned, this time different—angrier. Declan drew his revolver, aiming it at the doorway as a shadow moved within the mist.
“Whatever’s here,” he said, his voice low and steady, “it doesn’t want us leaving.”
Milinah clutched the book to her chest, her gaze darting toward the shadow. “It’s her. Declan, it’s Mariah.”
“No,” Declan said firmly. “Whatever that is, it’s not your sister.”
The shadow stepped closer, its form becoming clearer. It was humanoid, but its movements were unnatural, jerky, and disjointed. Declan fired a warning shot, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. The shadow recoiled, but the fog pressed in tighter, suffocating and relentless.
“Move!” Declan shouted, grabbing Milinah’s arm and pulling her toward the door.
They stumbled back into the passageway, the fog chasing them like a living thing. The whispers grew deafening, a cacophony of anger and sorrow that pushed them forward. They reached the main chamber, the air clearing just enough to catch their breath.
Milinah turned to Declan, her eyes wide with fear. “What was that?”
Declan didn’t answer. He didn’t have one. All he knew was that whatever they’d found in the boathouse wasn’t finished with them.
Echoes – Part 2: Into the Depths
The fog rolled in like an army, its tendrils snaking through the cracks in the cliff side, swirling with a purpose that felt anything but natural. Mariah stood at the edge, the sharp wind tugging at her coat and hair as she scanned the horizon. Her arms were crossed tightly against the chill, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Ellis had said he'd be here by now. She glanced back at the old lighthouse behind her, its shadow looming over the rocks like some ancient sentinel. But the building offered no comfort, only more unease.
The creak of footsteps on the rocky trail made her turn sharply, her pulse quickening—but it wasn’t Ellis. A man stumbled toward her, his heavy boots clumsy on the uneven ground. The reek of alcohol carried on the wind, even from a distance. His face was slack, his eyes unfocused, and his words slurred as he muttered something inaudible.
“Hey,” the sailor called out, his voice rough. “What’s a girl like you doin’ out here alone?”
Mariah backed up instinctively, glancing around for some sign of Ellis, but he was nowhere to be found. “I’m waiting for someone,” she said, her tone sharp but uncertain. “You should keep moving.”
But the sailor staggered closer, his hand outstretched. “Wait now… don’t be like that. You shouldn’t be out here… Not safe. Not with the fog…”
The fog answered his words before she could. It surged forward, a living thing, coiling around his legs with inhuman speed. Mariah gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as she stumbled back. The sailor screamed—a terrible, ragged sound that carried over the cliffs as the fog climbed him like a predator. He swung his arms wildly, trying to claw it away, but there was nothing to grab, nothing to fight. His scream cut off abruptly, and when the fog receded, it was as if he had never been there.
Mariah’s breath came in short, panicked gasps as the fog shifted again, this time toward her. She tried to run, but her legs wouldn’t move. Her body was frozen in terror, her hands raised defensively as if they could hold back the impossible.
“No,” she whispered, barely audible over the roar of the wind. “Please, no—”
The fog consumed her in a blink, her scream echoing briefly before being swallowed whole. And then, just as quickly as it had come, the fog withdrew, dragging itself out to sea like a wave retreating from the shore. The cliffs were empty.
But where Mariah had stood, something remained. A book, its black leather surface gleaming faintly in the dim light, lay on the ground. The silver bracket locking it shut glinted ominously, its untitled cover daring anyone to pick it up.
Present Day
Declan slammed the selector into drive, his jaw set tight as the fog slammed into the side of the car like a battering ram. The vehicle rocked violently, its weight the only thing keeping it grounded as the mist clawed at them. Milinah clutched the dashboard, her breath coming in shallow bursts. The whispers surrounded them, more guttural now, more desperate.
“Hold on,” Declan muttered, pressing the gas hard. The car lurched forward, its headlights cutting through the dense fog as they sped down the dark, winding road. The engine growled, straining against the incline, but Declan didn’t ease up. The fog followed, clinging to the rear windshield like a shadow that wouldn’t let go.
Finally, the mist began to thin, the headlights finding solid ground again as the road straightened out. Declan didn’t stop until they were back at the café, the familiar sight of its flickering sign like a beacon in the dark. He parked the car, cutting the engine, but neither of them moved at first.
The silence stretched as they sat there, the adrenaline slowly ebbing. Milinah’s hands were shaking, her gaze fixed on the fog still curling at the edges of the streetlights.
Declan broke the silence first. “Well, that was exciting,” he said dryly, though his hands were gripping the wheel tighter than he realized.
Milinah let out a short, humorless laugh, her breath still uneven. “What the hell was that, Declan? What is this fog? It’s not just… it’s alive. It’s something.”
Declan didn’t answer immediately. He opened the door and stepped out, lighting a cigarette with a practiced flick of his lighter. Milinah followed, and they walked back inside the café. The warmth of the space felt almost jarring after the cold dread outside.
Inside, they settled into a booth in the corner. The stack of books they’d collected sat on the side table next to them, their presence a silent challenge. Declan poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot on the table, his expression unreadable.
“This was a trap from the start,” he said finally, his tone measured. “The books, the clues, the whispers—they weren’t just leading us to answers. They were playing with us.”
Milinah nodded, her hands wrapped tightly around her own cup. “Then why leave a trail at all? If it’s toying with us, it wants us to find something. Or it wants us to… to get too close.”
Declan didn’t respond, his eyes narrowing as he reached for the nearest book. They worked in silence for the next hour, the only sounds the occasional scrape of paper or the soft hiss of the streetlamp outside. Milinah sifted through brittle pages, her fingers careful but swift, until something fell free—a scrap of parchment. It fluttered onto the table like an omen.
“What’s that?” Declan asked, leaning forward.
Milinah picked it up, her brow furrowing as she examined the faint scrawling on its surface. Letters and numbers, written in an unsteady hand. “It looks like coordinates,” she said, handing it to Declan.
He pulled out a magnifying glass, tilting it until the faint script came into focus. The words etched across the parchment sent a chill through him as he read them aloud: “Where land ends, the sea begins. Beware the fog.”
Below the warning were the coordinates. Declan traced them with his finger, his mind working fast. “This could be it,” he said, meeting Milinah’s eyes. “The source. Whatever’s controlling the fog, it’s leading us here.”
Milinah nodded, determination hardening her features. “Then let’s go.”
Declan’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “Let’s hope we’re ready.
Echoes – Part 3: Where the Fog Ends
The cliffs stood silent, the lighthouse casting its broken shadow across the jagged rocks below. The fog swirled thicker than ever, an impenetrable wall stretching into the horizon and blotting out the stars. Declan and Milinah stood shoulder to shoulder, their breath visible in the frigid air. The coordinates had led them here—back to the edge of Sugar Bay, where sea met stone and secrets refused to stay buried.
“This is it,” Declan muttered, his voice barely audible over the crashing waves. His flashlight cut weakly through the dense mist, but there was nothing to see. Just the emptiness of the fog, endless and unyielding.
Milinah tightened her grip on the book clutched to her chest. “She’s here,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with both hope and fear. “I can feel it.”
Declan glanced at her, his expression unreadable but focused. “Stay close,” he said. “We don’t know what this thing is—or what it wants.”
The wind picked up, carrying with it a faint sound—soft, melodic, and achingly familiar. Milinah froze, her breath catching in her throat. It was humming, gentle and lilting, the same tune Mariah used to sing when they were children. Tears welled in her eyes as she turned toward the fog, her voice trembling. “Mariah?”
The fog shifted, curling inward like smoke being drawn to a flame. It moved with unnatural speed, coalescing into a shape—a figure—at the center of the mist. Declan instinctively reached for his revolver, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t draw it. Something about the figure stopped him—a presence that felt less threatening and more… human.
And then the fog parted, revealing her.
Mariah Carlyle stepped forward, her silhouette outlined by the faint glow of the lighthouse beam. She looked exactly as she had the night she vanished—her dark hair loose and windswept, her dress fluttering softly in the wind. She gazed around in awe, her eyes wide as if she were waking from a dream. When she saw Milinah, her expression broke, and she ran to her, her arms outstretched.
“Mil,” Mariah cried, her voice cracking with emotion.
Milinah stumbled forward, dropping the book as she closed the distance. They collided in an embrace, Mariah’s arms wrapping tightly around her younger sister. Milinah held her just as fiercely, her tears streaming freely as she clung to the sister she had thought was lost forever.
“I thought… I thought I’d never see you again,” Milinah whispered, her voice trembling.
Mariah pulled back just enough to look at her, her hands framing Milinah’s face. “It felt like only a moment,” she said softly. “I… I don’t understand. Where am I?”
Declan stepped forward then, his expression wary but relieved. He tilted his hat back slightly, nodding toward Mariah. “Welcome to 1943,” he said. “It’s been 14 years since you vanished into the sea.”
Mariah’s breath hitched, her eyes searching his for answers she didn’t know how to ask. She looked back at Milinah, her voice faltering. “Fourteen years?”
Milinah nodded, brushing tears from her cheeks. “You’ve been gone so long, Mariah. I’ve missed you… I’ve missed you so much.”
Mariah hugged her again, burying her face in Milinah’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to leave… I don’t know what happened. The fog—it took me, and then… I don’t remember.”
Declan cleared his throat, pulling their attention. “We’ll figure it out,” he said firmly. “Right now, let’s get you both somewhere warm. That fog might’ve let you go, but it’s still out there.”
The Sidewalk Café buzzed faintly with life, its cozy glow spilling onto the cobblestone streets. Inside, the three of them sat in a booth by the window, the warmth of the room a stark contrast to the cold dread of the cliffs. Mariah sipped a steaming cup of tea, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to process everything.
Declan leaned back in his seat, his hat resting on the table beside him. He watched the two sisters quietly, his sharp gaze softened by the faintest hint of a smile. It wasn’t often he saw a case end this way—hopeful, with no bodies to mourn, no lingering ghosts to haunt.
Milinah couldn’t stop staring at her sister, her eyes drinking in every detail as if afraid Mariah might vanish again. “You’re exactly the same,” she said finally, her voice filled with wonder. “You haven’t aged a day.”
Mariah blinked, looking down at her hands. “It’s like… like I stepped out of one moment and into another. But the world kept moving without me.”
Declan leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “The fog let you go,” he said. “For whatever reason, it decided your time was up. Question is—why now?”
Mariah shook her head, her brow furrowing. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But… it felt alive. Like it was watching me, keeping me. And then, suddenly, it wasn’t.”
Milinah reached across the table, taking her sister’s hand in hers. “Whatever it was, it brought you back to me. That’s all that matters.”
Declan smirked faintly, lifting his coffee mug. “To second chances,” he said, raising it in a toast.
Milinah and Mariah smiled, clinking their cups against his. For the first time in years, the weight of Sugar Bay’s mysteries felt lighter. The fog would always hold its secrets, but for now, they had found something more precious than answers—each other.
As laughter and warmth filled the café, the fog outside began to lift, pulling back from the streets like a tide retreating from the shore. For a moment, Sugar Bay felt almost normal, the shadows giving way to light.