Metal scraping against stone. Chains going slack. The familiar shudder that rattled up through the floorboards and into your bones.

You'd felt it a hundred times before.

But this time, something was different.

The silence that followed lasted too long.

You stood at the edge of the opening, arms crossed, watching the ivy-covered walls of the Glade sway gently in the morning breeze. Behind you, the Homestead sat quiet. The gardens were still. The boys were gathered in loose clusters, waiting.

The doors hadn't opened yet.

The Box doors creaked. Then clicked.

And slowly, they swung open.