The island woke to smoke and silence.
The ferry rocked gently as it arrived at Ashwick Harbor, and fifteen-year-old Evan Thorne rubbed his eyes, still groggy from a night of too much cider and too little sleep. He squinted at the gray sky, the mist swirling like it had a secret to tell.
"Ugh, why do we do this every year?" Mara Hayes grumbled from beside him. Her blonde hair was a mess, her jacket unzipped as if she had just given up on any sense of warmth. "I don't even remember half of last night. Wasn't there a fire hazard warning or something?"
Evan chuckled. "Yeah, but what's a festival without a little fire hazard? Wouldn't be the Ashen Festival without someone nearly burning down a barn."
"True..." she said, adjusting her glasses. "Last year, it was Karen from drama club. She tried to set her hair on fire. You'd think she would've learned by now."
"Some people never learn." Evan glanced around, spotting a few classmates trudging off the ferry, yawning and rubbing their eyes. Everyone was half-awake, shuffling in the fog like extras from a horror movie.
As they approached the hill where the effigies had burned, the group froze.
"Is that…" Mara's voice trailed off as her eyes landed on the body.
A girl.
Her face, pale against the ash-streaked ground, looked almost serene if it weren't for the eerie cracked porcelain mask beside her head.
"Is she dead?" asked Alex, one of Evan's friends, looking more curious than concerned.
Evan nudged him. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's what 'dead' looks like, Alex."
"No way!" Alex said, eyes wide. "But she's wearing a mask. Isn't that, like, symbolic or something?"
"I think it's more symbolic that she's not breathing, Alex." Evan replied, trying to keep his voice steady.
Mara stepped forward cautiously, crouching beside the girl. "Why is she here? She wasn't at the festival."
"Maybe she's just taking a nap." Evan said, sarcastically. "You know, after a long night of being murdered."
Mara shot him a look. "You're hilarious."
Evan shrugged. "I'm here all week."
The body looked strange, untouched by the chaos of the festival, as if it had been placed deliberately. There were no signs of a struggle, no bruises, just the mask and a scrap of paper clutched tightly in the girl's hand.
With a careful tug, Evan freed the paper and unfolded it. Four words were written in jagged, hurried script: The fire cleanses all.
"Okay, that's creepy..." Mara said, frowning.
"Yeah." Evan agreed, "I'm pretty sure the fire isn't supposed to cleanse people like that."
Mara glanced around nervously. "I don't know. This feels wrong. Like we're stepping into some weird mystery movie where the killer's already ten steps ahead."
"Great," Evan said, deadpan. "Now I'm going to be paranoid for the rest of the week."