Camp Verity had been shut for nineteen years. The cabins smelled like wet paper and the dock sagged under your feet. Mara set the recorder on a tree stump while Devon clipped on the mics and Priya filmed the dead waterfront of Signal Lake. "Episode one," Mara said. "Why does a whole town pretend this place never existed?" Then they noticed something weird. When Priya yelled across the water, the lake gave back no echo at all.

Priya wandered toward the main lodge with her camera. The front door hung open. Inside, the walls were covered in old camp photos, except every single face had been scratched out with a key or a knife. "Guys," she called, her voice shaking. "You need to see this."

Devon spotted a logbook on the counter, thick with dust. He flipped to the last page. The final entry was a single line, written huge and shaky: DO NOT ANSWER WHEN THE LAKE CALLS YOU BY NAME. Outside, across the water, a voice called out: "Devon?"

Devon clamped his hand over his own mouth. Across the water, the voice called his name again, sweeter this time, almost begging. He shook his head no. The voice tried Mara's name, then Priya's. They all stayed silent. After a long minute, the calling stopped, and the air went heavy and still.