After spending a bit more time in the Cullen household, Alex carefully explained to everyone the possible ways to fight the Darkness. He emphasized more than once that people infected by it were no longer human — and if that happened, there could be no hesitation. They had to be destroyed without mercy.

Even Carlisle and Esme came downstairs when they heard the discussion in the living room. Upon learning what had happened, Carlisle frowned, while Esme anxiously paced around Edward, as if afraid her son had once again been put in danger.

Alex assured them that everything was under control and that he would handle the problem quickly. However, he insisted that if the Taken appeared again, no one should try to restrain them — they had to be eliminated immediately to avoid attracting human attention.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, Carlisle suggested contacting the Quileute clan — the wolves. Under such circumstances, he said, old rules needed to be set aside temporarily. Alex simply nodded in agreement; he would deal with Bright Falls himself, leaving Forks under the protection of the Cullens and the Quileutes.

Rubbing his face in fatigue and frustration, he let out a heavy sigh. His gaze lingered on Samantha, who had only recently arrived in town and was already facing its supernatural side. But Samantha only smiled back — calm and confident, as if saying, “It’s all right. I’m used to this. It’s not the first time.”

Carlisle and Esme insisted that Alex, Lucina, and Samantha stay the night in their home, along with Bella. Bella initially wanted to refuse, but then Charlie called — he said he had an urgent call in a neighboring town. He didn’t go into details, preferring not to discuss work, and so Bella gladly stayed with Edward.

Alex, Lucina, and Samantha didn’t object either — they were given Alice’s room.

Alice’s room turned out to be almost perfect for work: cozy, spacious, and bathed in the soft light of a desk lamp. Alice always had everything within reach — brushes, canvases, paints. Alex used the space to set up a temporary workstation.

As soon as he began organizing his memories — of Bright Falls, the writer Alan Wake, and the dark waters of Cauldron Lake — the room instantly filled with spectators. Everyone was there except Esme and Carlisle, who had gone to speak with Sam, the Quileute leader.

Lucina and Alice were already used to helping Alex with research, but the others mostly got in the way, bombarding him with silly questions and distracting him from his work.

What surprised Alex, however, was Rosalie. It turned out she had read Alan Wake’s novels — and even had a complete collection of his books on her shelf.

A couple of hours later, Carlisle and Esme returned. They reported that a temporary truce had been established between the Cullens and the Quileutes — at least until the situation with the Darkness and Bright Falls was resolved.

Thus, the day came to an end.

The next morning, Forks was drowned in gray rain. Heavy drops drummed against the roofs and leaves, while the sky blended with the mountains in a single leaden haze.

A black Impala sped down the highway winding through the forests of Olympic National Park. From the speakers played an old song by Old Gods of Asgard — its rhythm echoing something distant. Alex listened absentmindedly, not paying much attention, though a faint sense of déjà vu lingered within him.

He sat behind the wheel, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in rhythm with the music. Dressed in a sharp black suit, he looked like either a government agent or an undertaker.

“Remind me again why I agreed to come with you?” Emmett asked from the passenger seat, tugging at his tie, which seemed to strangle him worse than the Darkness itself.

Alex glanced sideways at him. Emmett wore the same kind of suit, and judging by his expression, he still didn’t quite understand why he was part of this “mission.”

“For starters,” Alex said calmly, keeping his eyes on the road, “Alice and Lucina are helping Samantha get used to the supernatural world. Edward’s trying to convince Bella not to stick her nose into things she doesn’t understand. I didn’t bring Jasper — his empathic ability would make him easy prey for the Darkness. Jane… well, she looks like a child. No one would believe she’s an agent. That left you and Rosalie. And you were the one who said you wouldn’t let Rosalie go into a place like this. So…”

“So here I am,” Emmett finished for him with a crooked grin. “Makes sense. But tell me, did we really have to wear these damn suits? The tie’s choking me, the pants are uncomfortable — I feel like a mannequin!”

“If we went in regular clothes, we’d look like two guys sticking their noses where they don’t belong,” Alex replied evenly. “This way, we look like agents. Just don’t talk too much when people start asking questions.”

“I know, I know! Rosalie watches so many detective shows that I’ve memorized all the interrogation tricks by now. By the way, tell me — when do we play good cop, bad cop? I call dibs on being the bad one!” Emmett said, leaning back with a grin.

“Of course,” Alex replied, handing him a badge. “If anyone asks who we are, tell them we’re part of a secret organization called the Men of Letters. For short — M.O.L.”

Emmett took the badge, turned it over in his hands, and snorted.”Well, sounds convincing enough. I just hope we at least get coffee out of this.”

“We will,” Alex said with a faint smile. “If we live to see lunch.”

The Impala disappeared around the bend, dissolving into the gray curtain of rain, while the road ahead led them straight into the heart of Bright Falls.

Without another word, Emmett took the ID from Alex’s hand. By now, the Cullens were used to Alex pulling objects seemingly out of thin air, and his mysterious inventory had long ceased to surprise anyone.

Opening the document with curiosity, Emmett immediately noticed the round insignia of the Men of Letters — with the abbreviation “M.O.L.” engraved in the center. Beneath it was his photo, and he couldn’t help but grin. He never thought he’d become a special agent… even a fake one. If he hadn’t known it was counterfeit, he might’ve believed it himself.

With a practiced flick of the wrist, as if he’d done it a hundred times, Emmett snapped the badge closed and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

The road to Bright Falls stretched through gray hills and pine forests. Wet branches flashed past the window, raindrops racing down the glass. Along the way, Alex explained their “cover story” — a precaution in case someone started asking too many questions.

He already knew that federal agents had arrived in town, among them a woman named Saga Anderson — a person with a rare gift. Alex could have left everything to her, but the risk was too great. He understood perfectly well that the Darkness surrounding Cauldron Lake wasn’t just a phenomenon. It was a fragment of Amara’s power, one that had seeped into this world long before she gained her freedom.

For now, Amara was still growing and adjusting to her physical form, unable to sense this lost piece of herself — the one that had gained sentience. But the fragment still carried her essence: the drive to destroy everything Chuck had created and plunge the world into shadow. It acted like a program with a spark of consciousness — executing its original directive: to annihilate.

Alex explained all this to Emmett so he’d understand what they were up against. Emmett almost asked why Alex couldn’t just snap his fingers and erase the Darkness entirely, but he remembered Alex’s earlier explanations in time and simply nodded, promising not to screw up.

Bright Falls was only a few miles away. The weather had improved slightly — the rain had stopped, though the sky still hung low and gray.

Alex leaned forward, peering through the windshield. His eyes gleamed faintly for a moment — he could see the Darkness even in daylight. It crawled over the hills, spreading across the town like a heavy shroud.

Even from this distance, it was clear: the densest concentration of Darkness hung over Cauldron Lake. Thin black tendrils stretched from it, fading into the air, as if the Darkness itself was testing the limits of its influence. Through these very threads, the three Taken had managed to reach Forks — one hundred and fifty kilometers away.

Alex shook his head, leaned back in his seat, and kept driving.

“What did you see?” Emmett asked, peering out the window.

“The town’s already covered. Like I said before, this Darkness distorts reality. The main thing is — don’t take off the amulet I gave you. Otherwise, you’ll become part of the story yourself,” Alex said, glancing at him.

“And what happens then?” Emmett asked curiously, folding his arms. “I mean, becoming a character in a book sounds kinda cool. Rosalie loves those novels. So how does it end?”

“Badly,” Alex replied calmly. “In stories like this, side characters are disposable. If we turned our arrival into a narrative, it would sound something like this: ‘Two agents of an ancient secret organization arrived in town to stop the Darkness. They thought they were ready for anything but failed to notice that, upon crossing the border of Bright Falls, they let the Darkness into their hearts. Soon after, one of them became Taken… and killed his partner.’ Something like that.”

Emmett grimaced and snorted.”Yeah, on second thought, I’ll pass. Not really in the mood to become some monster from someone else’s story.”

He adjusted the amulet around his neck, and Alex simply smirked, shaking his head.

Rolling down the window slightly, Alex lit a cigarette. The smoke mixed with the cool air, heavy with the scent of rain and pine. The Impala sped down the cracked asphalt of the old highway. After a few minutes, a faded sign appeared ahead: “Welcome to Bright Falls — The Town of Light.”

Alex chuckled. The irony wasn’t lost on him — a Town of Light swallowed by darkness its own citizens didn’t even suspect existed. Only a few knew the truth — those belonging to the Tree Cult. Outwardly, they were seen as fanatics, pagans, and murderers performing sacrifices deep in the woods. But in reality, the cult was the only barrier between the Darkness and the town.

They spread rumors and ghost stories to keep people away from Cauldron Lake. Better to scare them with legends than tell them the truth no one would believe. Though, as Alex knew, idiots always found a way to ignore warnings. And every one of them would become a new victim of the Darkness.

The black Impala slowly rolled into town. Alex eased off the gas even more, giving himself time to observe the streets and the townsfolk — who, in turn, were watching the newcomers with equal curiosity.

“Nice little place,” Emmett muttered, glancing around with interest at the passersby.

Alex just nodded. His first stop was the police station — he wanted to make sure which of the locals actually served the law and which were connected to the Tree Cult. He had already explained the plan to Emmett, who nodded in agreement, trying to memorize every detail. This was his first mission of this kind, and before leaving, Rosalie had managed to remind him: listen to Alex if you don’t want to cause a disaster.

Emmett took that advice seriously. Sitting in the passenger seat earlier, he had worn his most serious expression — really getting into the role of a federal agent. Alex had noticed and smiled faintly but said nothing.

They headed for the Elderwood Palace Hotel — where, according to Alex’s information, the FBI agents Saga Anderson and Alexander Casey had set up a temporary base of operations.

Pulling up to the building, Alex carefully parked the Impala. There were no federal vehicles in sight. Emmett stepped out, stretching with relief and looking around. The town seemed peaceful — the rain-washed streets gleamed under the gray sky, the air was fresh, and the locals bustled about, hanging garlands and posters — preparing for the upcoming festival.

“Charming place, if you don’t know what’s really going on,” Emmett remarked, leaning against the car. “So what, we showed up just in time for the festival?”

“You could say that,” Alex said, lighting another cigarette. “Bright Falls celebrates Deerfest every year. Kind of their local version of Thanksgiving. Old tradition — maybe too old.”

Emmett shrugged — he was just curious why the town looked so lively.

The first thing Alex planned to do was rent a room. He had no idea how long they’d have to stay here.

Inside the Elderwood Palace, a cozy silence reigned — the scent of aged wood, coffee, and a damp fireplace filled the air. Approaching the front desk, Alex requested a room for a couple of days. While the receptionist — a middle-aged man named Phil wearing a name badge — filled out the paperwork, Alex made polite conversation, subtly fishing for details.

“The hotel’s very pleasant,” he said with a faint smile. “Quiet, cozy, good atmosphere.”

“Thank you, sir. We try our best,” Phil replied with a slight smile. “You’ve probably heard? The feds have been here again recently. They’ve taken over the entire conference room for their headquarters.”

“Yes, I heard,” Alex nodded. “We’re actually here on business as well.”

“You’re with the FBI too?” Phil asked, surprised.

“Not exactly,” Alex leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “We have… a more specialized profile. We go where conventional methods don’t work.”

Phil nodded knowingly.

“Well, then you’ve arrived just in time. People are saying that another body was found at Cauldron Lake. A man. They think it’s the work of the local cult. Everything about it… looks ritualistic.”

“Does this happen often?” Emmett chimed in, leaning on the counter.

“There have been cases, but the police can’t find a single clue. So they called in the feds… and now, apparently, you,” Phil said with a slight sigh, placing the room key on the counter.

“Thank you,” Alex said, taking the key. “Where can we find the sheriff?”

“He’s usually either at the station or at the diner down the road. Hard to miss — the smell of blueberry pie carries for miles. I recommend trying it — it literally melts in your mouth.”

“Thanks, Phil. You’ve been very helpful,” Alex said, smiling.

Emmett nodded in appreciation.

They went upstairs to the room — a spacious space in warm tones, two separate beds, a window overlooking the lake. After a quick glance around, Alex put away his suitcase, and the two stepped back outside.

Alex lit a cigarette and, looking at the dark expanse of water in the distance, said, “First, we’ll stop by the diner. I’m sure the sheriff is there right now.”

“Well then, let’s go, agent,” Emmett smirked, adjusting his amulet.

Alex smiled faintly, flicked the ash, and headed down the road — toward the aroma of fresh coffee and blueberry pie.

Emmett nodded and waited until Alex tossed the cigarette butt in a trash can. Then they walked down the street toward the family diner, where locals said the sheriff often had lunch.

Alex remembered clearly who Tim Breaker was — the man destined to end up in the Dark Place, a dimension of Darkness capable of consuming human consciousness and transforming people into creatures known as the Taken. The Dark Place wasn’t just a parallel world; it was a space where art and the power of words could alter reality itself. That was why Alan Wake, the writer, could influence events there by rewriting reality through his stories.

As they walked along the sidewalk, Alex carefully observed the pedestrians: some were decorating windows, others carried boxes of garlands, preparing for the festival. For a moment, his eyes glowed with a cold blue light — he had activated his magical vision.

What he saw didn’t please him in the slightest. Every person bore a faint trace of Darkness — like a mark that could awaken at any moment and turn them into Taken.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the diner with the sign “Oh Deer Diner.” The warm glow from the windows and the aroma of coffee and blueberry pie gave the place a cozy feel, though it clashed with the tension lingering in the air.

Upon entering, Alex immediately spotted the man he was looking for. At one of the tables sat a man in a dark green uniform, topped with a brown leather jacket. A sheriff’s badge gleamed on his chest, and a wide-brimmed hat rested on his head. This was Tim Breaker.

Alex approached him.

“Excuse me, are you Sheriff Breaker?”

Tim looked up. Before him stood two men in sharp suits — clearly not tourists. Years of service had taught him to instantly distinguish casual passersby from those on official business.

“Yes, that’s me,” he replied calmly. “Sheriff Tim Breaker. How can I help you, gentlemen?”

Alex, wearing a faint confident smile, pulled an ID from his inner pocket.

“Special Agent Voldigoad, and this is my partner — Agent Cullen. We’re from the Men of Letters agency. We’ve been sent to investigate a case related to the Tree Cult.”

Emmett mirrored the gesture, presenting his own ID.

“May I see them?” Tim asked, holding out his hand.

Alex calmly handed over the documents. The sheriff examined both IDs carefully — the quality of the forgery was flawless. Paper, seals, signatures — everything looked official. Yet one thing caught his attention: he had never heard of an organization by that name before.

He handed the IDs back.

“Interesting name. What exactly does your agency do? I don’t recall hearing about it before.”

“That’s normal,” Alex replied with a slight smile. “We have a narrow specialization. We handle cases that ordinary federal structures try not to get involved with. And if we’re here, it means the situation in your town requires special attention.”

Tim nodded, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against his coffee cup.

“Understood. Two FBI agents have already gone to the crime scene. If you want, I can take you there after our conversation. But I suggest we step outside — wouldn’t want to disturb the other patrons.”

“Excellent idea,” Alex said.

He ordered two coffees — one for himself, one for Emmett — to make the conversation less formal. Tim patiently waited by the exit. Despite his calm demeanor, fatigue showed in his eyes. The town seemed to be sinking back into a nightmare he had faced before.

When Alex and Emmett stepped outside, Alex lit a cigarette and offered one to Tim, who politely declined.

“As I understand it,” Alex began, exhaling smoke, “the victim is Robert Nightingale, an FBI agent who went missing thirty years ago? His trail supposedly ended somewhere near Bright Falls.”

“Doesn’t it bother you that a man missing for decades suddenly turns up dead?” Emmett chimed in, playing along with the cover story.

“It bothers me — to put it mildly,” Tim replied, frowning. “I contacted the FBI immediately. They sent two agents — Anderson and Casey. They’re already at the crime scene. Under Anderson’s orders, the body will be brought to the station for further examination. If you want, you can be present for the autopsy or take a look at the body afterward.”

“We’d appreciate that,” Alex said, flicking ash from his cigarette. “The more details, the better.”

The sheriff nodded and added,

“Then I suggest we head to the station. Believe me, agents, I have a feeling this murder is only the beginning of something bigger.”

Alex glanced briefly at Emmett. His look said it all: he was right.

Alex nodded with a faint smile, but his mind buzzed like a hive of bees. He didn’t like Saga Anderson. People who were too smart for their own good always made him wary. He knew that sooner or later she would start poking her nose where it didn’t belong, trying to get to the truth.

Alex understood perfectly well: even if he tried to drive Saga Anderson and Alex Casey out of the town, the darkness would still bring them back. Both had already become part of the story, written by Alan Wake and his sinister reflection, Scratch.

Meanwhile, Emmett was fully immersed in his role as an agent — calmly conversing with Tim Breaker and carefully extracting details. Alex glanced at his partner and struggled to suppress a smile. Allowing Rosalie to read detective thrillers and discuss them with Emmett had clearly paid off — the guy knew how to behave and could play the part of a special agent almost flawlessly.

“Here come the FBI agents,” Tim said, nodding behind Alex’s back.

Alex and Emmett turned. Two people were approaching them.

Saga Anderson — a dark-skinned woman with her black hair pulled tightly into a ponytail — walked forward. She wore a strict FBI agent suit, topped with a standard jacket. Her brown eyes combined insightfulness with a warm, almost homely glow — a rare combination for someone accustomed to investigations and interrogations. Her gaze was attentive and analytical, but not cold.

Beside her was Alex Casey — a man in his forties with a tired face, wrinkles, and a hint of stubble. Blue shadows lay under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in ages. He bristled every time someone remarked on how much he resembled a character from Alan Wake’s books — even down to the name.

“Who will you be?” Saga spoke first, stopping in front of them.

“I’m Special Agent Voldigoad,” Alex replied calmly, showing his ID. “And this is my partner, Agent Cullen. We’ve arrived under the orders of our bureau to investigate a case related to the cult in this town. And you?”

“Agent Anderson. This is my partner, Agent Casey,” Saga introduced herself, keeping her gaze fixed. “I’ve never heard of the Men of Letters. What do you do?”

“Our agency is a closed structure,” Alex answered with a slight smile. “But we’re here for the same reason as you. I think we should join forces. If you don’t trust us, we can work in parallel — as long as we don’t get in each other’s way. Although, I suspect you, like us, are curious why Agent Nightingale, missing for thirty years, suddenly appeared… and became a victim of the local cult.”

Saga nodded, her expression softening slightly.

“In that case, I count on your help, Agent Voldigoad. And yours, Agent Cullen,” Saga said, extending her hand for a handshake.

“Likewise, Agent Anderson, Agent Casey,” Alex replied, shaking her hand. “I think together we’ll find answers faster.”

“Now that introductions are over,” Saga said, releasing his hand, “do you mind if we speak with Sheriff Breaker?”

“Of course. We just finished. After you, I’d like to examine Nightingale’s body — I imagine you’ll want to see it as well,” Alex said with a slight smile, stepping aside to give them space.

Saga looked him squarely in the eyes, as if trying to detect even the slightest hint of a lie. But Alex was a master of deception. He could wear any mask and play any role, and the blessing from his wife, Loki, made the task even easier — no matter how implausible his words, people inevitably began to believe him.

Smiling, Alex stepped aside, letting Saga pass. She finally averted her gaze, but he could see her mind already forming his psychological profile. Thanks to her unique ability, Saga could “interrogate” a person without asking a single question.

Alex and Emmett moved a few steps back, giving the agents space to speak with Tim.

“What did you manage to get out of the sheriff?” Alex asked Emmett.

Emmett gave a brief summary of the conversation. He always knew how to inspire trust, despite his imposing appearance. Alex listened half-attentively, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Alex Casey was watching him closely. He smiled politely and gave a slight nod.

After a short exchange with Breaker, Saga headed into the diner to speak with the Bookers, the couple who witnessed Agent Nightingale’s murder. Curious, Alex moved closer. Saga’s conversation with the Bookers was brief. Soon, the woman pulled a pendant from her pocket — the Tree Cult’s talisman — and handed it to Saga.

Saga noticed Alex’s gaze, and without revealing any emotion, slipped the cult pendant into her pocket — now it was evidence. The cult’s symbol consisted of two triangles, one piercing the other, forming an unsettling emblem as if carved from madness itself.

When Saga left the family diner, she briefly reported that she had questioned the Bookers. Sheriff Breaker nodded and suggested they all head to the station to examine Agent Nightingale’s body.

Alex and Emmett walked behind, listening to Saga and Casey’s conversation. Casey spoke irritably about the cult that, according to rumors, operated in the town. The sheriff, as if defending himself, noted that the Tree Cult was just a local scary story. But, he added with a grim tone, bodies continued to be found — so there had to be something behind the legend.

Alex remained silent. Now was not the time to reveal details — neither Saga nor Casey would believe him. They needed to see for themselves what lurked beneath the surface of Bright Falls. He knew Saga carried the page she had found from Alan Wake’s book in her pocket and had already started piecing together the puzzle — a puzzle that left no room for him or Emmett yet. There was no trust between them — and Alex even saw that as an advantage.

They reached the police station without incident. At the entrance, they were met by Mulligan and Thornton, officers assigned to the crime scene.

“Who are these?” Mulligan asked suspiciously, eyeing Alex and Emmett.

“Another team of special agents,” Breaker replied. “Agent Voldigoad and Agent Cullen. They’ve also been assigned to investigate the same case.”

Alex nodded politely and extended his hand for a handshake. After a brief exchange of greetings, Tim led everyone inside the station. They headed to the basement, where the morgue was and where Nightingale’s body already lay.

“Our coroner is currently away,” Breaker said, opening the door. “I hope you have experience with autopsies?”

“I do,” Alex replied with a faint smile. “You don’t mind, Agent Anderson?”

“I won’t refuse help,” Saga said calmly, nodding.

Alex let everyone go ahead. On the way down he glanced briefly at Emmett, letting him know that something unpleasant might happen downstairs. Emmett caught the look and gave a short nod in response.

They descended into the morgue slowly; their footsteps echoed in the narrow corridor. The girls watching the livestream froze — what was happening now felt less like an adventure and more like a true detective thriller.

Another officer met them downstairs — he was guarding the body. Alex immediately noticed: Nightingale’s corpse was strangely bloated, as if it had been in water for a long time. That made no sense — according to the reports, he had been found tied to a table.

“You found him in the lake?” Alex asked calmly, examining the body.

“No,” Saga replied, watching his every move closely. “He was tied to a table. Why do you ask?”

“Because the body looks like it’s been underwater for weeks,” Alex said, putting on rubber gloves.

Saga frowned. She had noticed it too. When she first examined the body, it had looked different. Now, after Alex’s remark, she clearly saw it: the skin was swollen, like after drowning.

Alex began the examination; Saga followed his lead and pulled on gloves. Emmett, standing behind them, made a face of disgust. Even as a vampire, he had no intention of touching a corpse that looked so grotesque.

“Look,” Alex said, slightly lifting the corpse’s shoulder. “There are inscriptions here. Looks like tattoos… or they were added later.”

“Nightingale didn’t have tattoos,” Casey said sharply. “I’m sure of it.”

“Then,” Saga summarized calmly, “they were applied after his disappearance. While he was listed as missing.”

Alex nodded and continued the inspection. On Nightingale’s body, blurred markings appeared more and more often — so distorted that no word could be made out. Yet Alex knew these were lines from Alan Wake’s book called “Return.” The very book Wake had rewritten countless times, trying to force the perfect ending.

Unfortunately for Alan, his dark alter ego — Mr. Scratch — also had plans for “Return.” While Wake desperately sought a way to keep the Darkness from escaping, Scratch quietly intervened in the plot, distorting it to free the Darkness. Because of that, Alan developed memory gaps — he forgot many things, including what he himself had written.

Alex examined Nightingale’s body carefully, methodically describing every detail like an experienced specialist. He wanted Saga to understand that she wasn’t dealing with a dilettante but with a professional who had dealt with similar cases before. It was all part of the plan: to earn Saga Anderson’s trust — a woman who, unbeknownst to her, had become the main character of Alan Wake’s book.

“One place left,” Alex said, looking around. “Saga, hand me the tweezers. I’m not squeamish, but I’d rather not dig into a dead man’s chest with my hands.”

Saga silently handed him the tweezers. Her expression turned serious — now she saw that this guy truly knew what he was doing. Not long ago, she had thought Alex was just a young man sent on his first case. But watching his confidence and composure, she realized: in front of her stood a seasoned professional.

Alex took the tweezers, already knowing what he would find inside. Within Nightingale’s chest should be a page from Alan Wake’s book — and, as he suspected, this page had something to do with Saga herself.

Everyone watched his actions tensely. When Alex carefully extracted the folded sheet of paper and unfolded it, the air seemed to grow heavier.

He quickly scanned the text. Everything matched what he had expected. The page described events word for word — and mentioned Saga. Fortunately, due to his unique nature, Alex could not become part of someone else’s story.

“This seems to concern you, Agent Anderson,” he said, handing the page to Saga.

“Another page,” Casey muttered, clicking his tongue in irritation.

“Have you found others like this?” Emmett asked, standing nearby.

“Yes,” Casey nodded. “Those damn cultists… it’s like they’re mocking us. One was found near the tree… what’s it called… the Witch’s Ladle, I think.”

“Wait, pages?” Tim Brecker interjected. “We’ve found some too! We thought they were nonsense, unrelated to the case. But now I remember — your names were on them. Just… wait, I’ll get them.”

He walked over to the shelf with folders.

At that moment, the lights flickered suddenly. The room plunged into a brief darkness. Alex tensed instantly — and in that short, almost weightless moment when the lamps flickered back on, he caught sight of a tall dark-skinned man in a blue suit. Their eyes met — and a barely perceptible smile appeared on both their faces. Alex recognized him immediately. It was Warlin Door.

A mysterious man, capable of moving between dimensions and alternate timelines. Alex knew little about him, but one thing was certain: this man was not an enemy. Just a wanderer, always balancing on the edge of mystery, appearing at the right moment to lend a hand… or leave a clue.

When the lights fully returned, Tim Brecker was gone. Warlin Door had taken him. On the floor remained only a single page from Alan Wake’s book.

To be continued…

(It’s so damn hard to fit all the necessary plot points into one chapter. I could, of course, fit a chapter just on Alan Wake’s plot, and then the entire chapter would be dedicated to Alan Wake’s plot alone. But I’ll try to give you the plot details of the parts as they unfold in Bright Falls.)

Early access to chapters on my patreon: p*treon.com/GreedHunter

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep