Day 7: The First Disappearance

The morning dawned gray and bleak, the winter light barely breaking through the thick clouds that hung over Thornwick. The town felt suffocating, as if the very air was weighted by the dark energy seeping from the witch’s curse. Eira woke with a deep sense of unease, her mind replaying the events of the night before.

The well, the scream, the twisted angel ornament—it was all connected. But instead of breaking the curse, their actions had only intensified it. And now, Eira had no doubt that Evandra was closer than ever to awakening fully, her disciples ready to carry out her vengeance.

Eira rubbed her eyes and glanced at her phone. A new message from Lucas flashed on the screen.

Lucas: “We need to meet. Something’s happened.”

Her pulse quickened as she sat up, dread curling in her stomach. She quickly dressed and headed out to meet Lucas at the square. The town was eerily quiet again, the air heavy with the promise of something worse to come.

When she reached the square, Lucas was standing near the well, his face pale and tense. He looked up as she approached, his eyes filled with worry.

“What’s going on?” Eira asked, her voice shaky.

Lucas ran a hand through his hair, his expression grim. “There’s been another disappearance.”

Eira’s stomach dropped. “Who?”

“Mrs. Finch,” Lucas said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Her son found her house empty this morning. The front door was open, and she’s just... gone.”

The words hit Eira like a punch. Mrs. Finch was one of Thornwick’s oldest residents, a kind woman who had lived in the town her whole life. The thought of her disappearing without a trace sent a shiver down Eira’s spine.

“Was there any sign of what happened?” Eira asked, though she feared the answer.

Lucas nodded grimly. “Yeah. There was something left behind. You need to see it.”

The Twisted Gift

Eira followed Lucas to Mrs. Finch’s house, her heart pounding with every step. The cottage stood at the edge of town, nestled beneath the towering pines that bordered the forest. It was a cozy place, normally filled with the warmth of Mrs. Finch’s presence, but today it felt cold and foreboding.

The front door was slightly ajar, just as Lucas had said. Eira pushed it open, the familiar scent of pine and cinnamon still lingering in the air, though it was now tainted by something darker—something wrong.

Inside, the house was eerily quiet. There were no signs of a struggle, no overturned furniture or broken windows. It was as if Mrs. Finch had simply vanished into thin air.

But then Eira’s eyes fell on the table in the center of the room.

Sitting neatly in the middle of the table was a small, twisted wreath. It was made of dark, brittle branches, woven together with strands of what looked like hair. In the center of the wreath hung a single, blood-red ribbon, tied in a perfect bow.

Eira’s stomach churned at the sight of it. The wreath wasn’t just a decoration—it was another message. Another gift.

Lucas stood beside her, his face pale as he stared at the wreath. “This was left here when her son found the house. No one knows what it means, but... I think we do.”

Eira swallowed hard, her heart racing. The wreath was a symbol—twisted and dark, like the angel ornament. It was meant to signal the next stage of the curse, and this time, it had taken Mrs. Finch.

“What does it mean?” Eira whispered, her voice trembling.

Lucas shook his head, his expression grim. “I don’t know, but I think it’s another warning. The disciples are growing stronger. They’re taking people now.”

Eira’s mind raced. The curse was escalating faster than she had anticipated. First, the ominous gifts, and now people were disappearing. If Mrs. Finch had been taken, it meant that no one in Thornwick was safe.

“We need to figure out where they’re taking them,” Eira said, her voice shaking. “We need to find Mrs. Finch before it’s too late.”

Lucas nodded, but there was a heaviness in his eyes. “But how? We don’t even know what we’re dealing with.”

Eira stared at the twisted wreath, a sense of helplessness washing over her. The disciples were playing a game, and every move they made seemed to pull the town deeper into their web. But there had to be a way to stop them—there had to be a way to break the curse.

The Search for Mrs. Finch

Determined to find answers, Eira and Lucas spent the rest of the day searching the town, hoping to find some clue as to where Mrs. Finch had been taken. They visited her usual haunts—the bakery, the church, the small park where she often sat to feed the birds—but there was no sign of her.

As the day wore on, the town grew quieter, the weight of the curse pressing down on everything. The people who had been out earlier had retreated to their homes, locking their doors and closing their curtains, as if they could feel the darkness creeping closer.

By evening, Eira and Lucas found themselves back at the well, their search having turned up nothing. The well, once a symbol of life in Thornwick, now felt like a monument to the growing despair.

“We’re missing something,” Eira said, pacing around the square. “There has to be a pattern—something that connects the disappearances.”

Lucas nodded, but his face was etched with worry. “What if the connection is us? What if they’re taking people because of what we’re doing?”

Eira stopped in her tracks, her heart pounding. The thought hadn’t crossed her mind, but it made sense. The disciples could be targeting the town as a way to stop Eira from breaking the curse. Each person they took was a warning, a way of telling her that time was running out.

“We need to find where they’re keeping her,” Eira said, her voice trembling. “If we can find Mrs. Finch, maybe we can figure out how to stop this before anyone else disappears.”

Lucas looked at her, his expression serious. “And how do we do that?”

Eira hesitated, her mind racing. The well had been a dead end, and the cemetery had only revealed part of the curse. There had to be something else, some other place tied to Evandra’s magic.

And then it hit her.

“The woods,” Eira said, her voice barely above a whisper. “The old clearing in the woods.”

Lucas frowned. “What’s in the clearing?”

“It’s where the coven used to meet,” Eira explained. “Before Evandra was accused of witchcraft, she and her followers would gather there. If the disciples are rising, they might be using the clearing as a way to regroup—maybe even as a place to hold the people they’re taking.”

Lucas stared at her for a moment before nodding. “It’s worth a shot.”

Into the Woods

As night fell over Thornwick, Eira and Lucas made their way to the edge of the woods, the cold wind biting at their faces. The trees loomed tall and dark, their branches twisting together like gnarled hands reaching out to trap anyone who dared to enter.

The path to the clearing was narrow and overgrown, but Eira knew it well. Her grandmother had once told her stories about the coven, about the magic that had been practiced in these woods long before the witch trials. It was a place steeped in history, and now it felt like the heart of the curse.

The deeper they ventured into the woods, the colder the air became, and Eira could feel the weight of something dark pressing down on her. Shadows moved at the edges of her vision, but every time she turned, there was nothing there.

As they reached the clearing, Eira’s breath caught in her throat.

The clearing was empty, but the air was thick with magic. She could feel it—pulsing beneath the surface, like the ground itself was alive with the curse.

In the center of the clearing stood a twisted, blackened tree, its branches bare and skeletal. Around the base of the tree were several small objects—offerings, perhaps—just like the ones they had seen at the cemetery. But this time, the offerings were different.

They weren’t just tokens. They were personal items—things that belonged to the missing townspeople. A scarf, a pair of gloves, a small wooden figurine.

And there, at the base of the tree, was Mrs. Finch’s brooch.

Eira’s stomach twisted with fear. They were close. The disciples were using this place, just as she had suspected.

But where were they? And where was Mrs. Finch?

As the wind howled through the clearing, Eira knew one thing for certain.

They weren’t alone.