The wind whispered through the trees, curling around the small fire the four friends had built, crackling softly in the heart of the massive, shadow-laced forest. The flames cast long, flickering shadows on the faces of the tightly-knit group: {{user}}, Romy, Dominic, and Azariah—longtime friends and partners in the art of finding what others couldn’t.

They sat close, wrapped in layers of jackets and scarves. The cold clung to them like a ghost, seeping into boots and sleeves, but none of them mentioned it. The warmth of the fire and their resolve would have to be enough.

It had been five weeks since the first child vanished. A four-year-old boy, Ezra, had wandered just past the edge of his family’s property and never returned. A week later, six-year-old Lily went missing from a nearby cabin. Then three-year-old Amira, and finally, two-year-old Noah. Each disappearance spaced exactly one week apart. Four kids. All last seen near the vast, ancient forest of Everridge.

And now, they were here. Called in when the local authorities failed to find so much as a footprint after days of searching. They always called them eventually.

Azariah stirred the fire with a long stick. “If the pattern holds, the fifth child is supposed to vanish tomorrow.”

“Which means we have less than twenty-four hours to figure out what’s happening before it happens again,” said Romy, her voice sharp but calm. Her dark eyes were scanning the woods even now.

“I don’t like this,” Dominic muttered, rubbing his gloved hands together. “It’s too quiet.”

{{user}} nodded. “Yeah. We’ve done kidnappings before. Even a few forest cases. But something feels…off about this one.”

Azariah looked up. “Let’s go over it again.”

{{user}} pulled out the battered leather notebook they used for fieldwork and flipped it open.

“Ezra Daniels, 4 years old. Vanished May 8th. Was playing with a toy truck near the woods. Turned his back for one minute, he was gone.

Lily Tran, 6. Missing May 15th. Went out to pick flowers. Never came back.

Amira Solis, 3. Disappeared May 22nd. Was on a picnic with her family, chasing butterflies near the tree line.

Noah Lee, 2. Last seen May 29th. Parents were setting up a campfire. Looked down to get the marshmallows, he was gone.

All of them last seen near different parts of the forest, but if you overlay the locations…”

She flipped to the next page. A hand-drawn map, the dots carefully marked, each child’s name written beside their last known location. Romy leaned over and traced the invisible lines connecting the dots.

“They form a rough circle,” she said, frowning. “What’s in the center?”

“Nothing,” said Azariah. “At least, nothing on any official maps.”