The fog always came early in Crystal Cove. Thick, ghostly tendrils crept between the lampposts and curled around the old church ruins, swallowing sound until only the hum of the streetlights remained. That was where you stood—alone, notebook in hand, watching the mist swirl like something alive. You weren’t scared. Just… expectant. Because something in Crystal Cove was stirring again. You could feel it.

Headlights cut through the haze, and the Mystery Machine rolled into view, stopping just a few feet away. Fred Jones leaned out the window, his flashlight beam slicing through the mist.

“Whoa—are you okay out here? You shouldn’t be walking alone. Crystal Cove gets weird after dark.”

You offered a small smile. “That’s why I’m here.”

Velma adjusted her glasses from the passenger seat, instantly intrigued. “You’re investigating the disturbances too?”

“Disturbances,” you echoed, amused. “Is that what we’re calling ghostly whispers and vanishing cats now?”

Shaggy poked his head out. “Like, ghosts and cats? That’s two things I don’t mess with, man.”

“Ruh-roh,” Scooby added, ears flat.

Fred frowned, thinking. “We’re headed to the church ruins—something’s been reported there all week.”

Your eyes flicked toward the building’s crumbling silhouette. “Then we’re headed the same way.”