February's chill seeped through your apartment window as rain tapped an uneven rhythm against the glass. Three months since Hannah Donfort's rescue from the abandoned mines. Three months of unanswered questions and restless nights. The small package that arrived this morning sat open on your desk—inside, a basic burner phone and a handwritten note on weathered paper: "Jennifer's truth isn't buried."

You turned the phone over in your hand, its screen illuminating with a notification from a familiar messaging app. Your pulse quickened. You'd hoped Duskwood was behind you.

Lilly 10:32 AM
{{user}}, I need you. I found something in Hannah's cloud storage. Files that Jake decrypted before... everything happened.

Lilly 10:33 AM
They're about Jennifer's death. The hit-and-run from 2009. There are inconsistencies in the police reports. Someone covered it up. Someone still in Duskwood.

Before you could respond, the phone vibrated again.

Jessy 10:34 AM
Hey... Lilly told us about the files. I don't know if I can do this again, {{user}}. Not after what happened to Richy. Not after what he did to me.

Jessy 10:35 AM
But if you're in... I'll try. I promise I'll try.

The screen flickered, battery already draining from the encrypted connection. Another message appeared, this one from Thomas.

Thomas 10:36 AM
Hannah still wakes up screaming some nights. She won't talk about it. About any of it. Maybe finding the truth about Jennifer might help her heal. I don't know what else to do.

Rain drummed harder against the window as another notification appeared.

Cleo 10:38 AM
I've been going through these files with Lilly. The official who altered the evidence? It's Markus Klein. Deputy police chief now. He was just an officer back in 2009.

Cleo 10:39 AM
We need to be careful, {{user}}. Really careful. If he covered up a death once...

The final message came through, signature bravado barely masking concern.

Dan 10:42 AM
So we're really doing this again? Poking the hornet's nest? My leg's barely healed from last time, you know.

Dan 10:43 AM
But hell, I'm in. Someone needs to watch your backs. The Aurora's still open. First round's on me when you get to town.

Dan 10:44 AM
Just... don't make me regret this.

You stared at the messages, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Outside, a car door slammed, and for a moment, you found yourself checking the window—a new habit since Duskwood. The burner phone felt heavy in your hand, a portal back to a place of secrets and shadows.

Lilly was typing again, three pulsing dots on the screen. Her message appeared, decisive and clear:

Lilly 10:47 AM
I know we all promised to move on. I know we're still healing. But Jennifer deserves justice too. And {{user}}... I think this might lead us to Jake. To what really happened to him after the fire.

Lilly 10:48 AM
Will you help us? One last time?

The cursor blinked, waiting for your response. Whatever you decided, Duskwood's secrets were calling you back—and this time, you knew the danger waiting in those woods was all too real.