Morning came to Harper Heights like a sigh.


Ash drifted over the neighborhood like snow. The charred remains of Harper’s Field still smoldered as the fire trucks pulled away, the firefighters exchanging confused glances—no clear ignition point, no explanation.


But for the first time in years, the air felt… lighter.


Nia sat on the back porch of her childhood home, eyes locked on the skyline. A cup of coffee in her hands. Burn marks still ringed her wrists where the Hollow’s presence had reached for her. But she felt no fear now.


Just purpose.


Across the street, Bree and Kenyatta helped clean up a neighbor’s yard. Jeremiah was with them, no longer catatonic. He even smiled once—just a little.


Malik arrived, holding up his battered camera like a trophy. “It survived,” he said. “Footage is rough, but it’s there. We’re blowing this story wide open.”


Nia shook her head slowly. “We tell it right. Not just for shock value. For the truth. For the ones who didn’t make it out.”


Malik nodded, more serious now. “We’ll name every child. Every soul that place swallowed.”


Later that day, city officials arrived. News vans circled the field’s perimeter, kept back by yellow tape. The mayor issued a vague statement about “electrical issues” and “historical reevaluation of the land.”


But Nia knew better. And she knew the city was already planning to build condos on the ashes.


Not this time.


That night, she began a new podcast episode.


“This is Nia Carter. And tonight, we’re going beneath the surface—literally.


Harper’s Field was a burial ground. Not just of bodies, but of memory, of pain, of history no one wanted to admit. We faced something dark there—something that fed on our silence.


But we broke the circle.


And now it’s time to break the system that kept feeding it.”


She ended the recording, her voice calm and clear.


Outside, a soft breeze swept through the neighborhood. Somewhere, a child laughed.


And in the distance—beneath the scorched earth of Harper’s Field—the last of the voices faded into silence.