Page 199 of Silent Shadows

Grant Ridgefield fills the screen, standing somewhere dusty and scenic, talking directly into camera with the kind of confidence only mediocre men and cult leaders possess.

“Strange Terrain can keep chasing fairy tales,” he says, voice tinny through my speaker. “We’re done playing games. We know where the real activity is. Some of us are actually willing to go where the evidence leads.”

The video cuts to a blurred ridge.

Then to an edited clip of Miles kneeling over a track, slowed down and filtered to make him look ridiculous.

My jaw tightens, and Miles goes very still.

Taylor says, “Turn it off before I throw the phone.”

I do, then switch to our profile, perking up.

“Our turn,” I say. Miles looks apprehensive.

Jax brightens. “Oh, I like vengeance for breakfast.”

“Not vengeance,” Maya corrects.

I lift a shoulder. “Strategic control of the narrative.”

Owen looks at Miles. “Is she always like this?”

Miles’s eyes stay on me, glowing with pride.

“She is.”

Warmth moves over my skin.

I open the drafted post. It’s a short clip featuring a wide shot of desert, along with deliberately vague footage shot far away from today’s actual route.

It’s meant to promote the next podcast release, but it’s more than that.

The caption reads:

Curiosity is powerful. It can bring people together, open doors, and make the world feel bigger. But wonder without respect becomes exploitative.

If you’re following this story, please don’t search for locations, trespass, disturb land, leave bait, set unauthorized cameras, or interfere with ongoing fieldwork. The best way to engage with the mystery is to protect the people, wildlife, and land connected to it.

The truth doesn’t belong to the loudest person in the room.

It belongs to those willing to move with respect.

Taylor reads it once. Then again. Her mouth firms.

“Crushed it.” From her, it feels like a Pulitzer.

Maya nods. “Post it.”

I look at Miles and he’s already looking back at me. There’s something in his expression I don’t know what to do with. “Ready?” I ask him.

“Do it.” His voice is low.

I post and my stomach does a dramatic cartwheel.

Jax immediately grabs his phone.

“And now we wait for the internet to be normal.”