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The morning sun cast long shadows through the trees as the group made their way across the island. After discovering the dream-walking technology beneath the theater, they’d agreed to meet early the next day to search for the fourth key. Three down, two to go.
Jan checked her watch. She was running late after an emergency at the clinic—a fisherman’s cat had gotten tangled in netting—but Dr. Martinez had finally arrived to take over. Now she hurried along the path to the meeting spot at the edge of Lad Woods, her backpack loaded with supplies and a field guide to island wildlife.
Muffin spotted her first, bounding over with enthusiastic greeting barks. The golden retriever circled her excitedly, tail wagging at helicopter speed.
“Someone’s happy to see you,” Ali said, smiling as Jan scratched behind Muffin’s ears.
“He knows I keep treats in my pocket,” Jan replied, producing a small dog biscuit from her jacket. “Professional secret—always bribe your patients.”
The whole group had assembled: Ali with her three disks carefully stored in her backpack, Cooper with his frequency equipment, Archer with his tidal charts, Bett checking something on her phone, and Jasper looking more rested than he had in days.
“So,” Bett said, “what’s the plan? Wander aimlessly through the woods and hope for the best?”
Jan shook her head. “Not aimlessly. Remember what Ali learned through the mask? The animals will guide us to the next key.”
She knelt beside Muffin. “And we have the perfect guide right here.”
Cooper looked skeptical. “You’re saying we should just… follow the dog?”
“Not just any dog,” Jan replied, her usual quiet confidence strengthening. “Muffin’s been sensitive to these alien frequencies from the beginning. He knew exactly where to find the key under the theater.”
Animals had always made sense to Jan in a way people sometimes didn’t. Since she was little, she’d dreamed of opening her own clinic someday, maybe even an aquarium to study and protect marine life. But for now, her part-time job at Dr. Martinez’s island veterinary clinic gave her more than enough experience with the local wildlife.
“Besides,” she continued, pulling out her field guide, “I’ve been documenting unusual animal behavior all over the island for months. Look.” She flipped to pages filled with her neat handwriting and detailed sketches. “Migration patterns shifting, nocturnal animals active during daylight, birds making new nesting locations.”
“You think the animals have been responding to the alien presence?” Archer asked, intrigued.
Jan nodded. “They’ve been trying to tell us something all along. And now—” she attached a small compass to Muffin’s collar, “—we’re going to listen.”
Ali stepped forward. “It’s worth a try. The impressions I got through the mask were pretty clear about animals being guides.”
Muffin, as if understanding his important role, sat at attention, ears pricked forward. Jan gave him a gentle command, and he immediately rose, sniffing the air purposefully before setting off into the woods.
“I guess we’re following the dog,” Cooper muttered, adjusting his equipment bag as they all fell in line behind their canine guide.
For nearly twenty minutes, Muffin led them confidently through increasingly dense forest. The popular hiking trails were left behind as they pushed through underbrush and navigated around fallen trees. Jan kept careful track of their route in a small notebook.
Suddenly, Muffin stopped, hackles rising slightly. Ahead, a family of deer stood frozen in a small clearing—but not in the usual alert posture of wild deer. Instead, they seemed to be arranged in a deliberate pattern, almost ceremonial.
“Don’t move,” Jan whispered, slowly reaching for her camera.
The deer maintained their strange formation for several heartbeats, then, as if responding to some unheard signal, they turned in perfect unison and bounded away—not in random directions, but in a specific pattern, like points of a star expanding outward.
“Did you see that?” Brett whispered.
“That was not normal deer behavior,” Jan confirmed, reviewing the photos she’d managed to capture. “They moved like they were… choreographed.”
Before anyone could respond, Muffin barked once, sharply, and dashed forward.
“Wait!” Ali called, but the dog was already racing after something only he could sense.
They pursued him through dense foliage, eventually emerging into another clearing where Muffin sat waiting, panting happily beside what appeared to be an old, collapsed hunting blind.
“Good boy,” Jan said, catching her breath as she approached. “What did you find?”
The structure wasn’t a hunting blind at all, she realized as they got closer. It was an entrance—a small door set into the ground, its wooden frame disguised with local vegetation, now partially rotted away.
“Amazing,” Archer murmured, kneeling to examine it. “This camouflage technique is ingenious—it would be completely invisible from even a few feet away if it was maintained.”
Cooper’s instruments began beeping. “Same frequency signature as the other locations,” he confirmed.
“Let’s see where it leads,” Ali said, carefully pulling the weathered door open to reveal a narrow passage descending into darkness.
One by one, they climbed down, flashlights illuminating a short tunnel that opened into a surprisingly large underground chamber. Unlike the technological space beneath the theater, this room felt more… lived in. Homey, almost, in a strange way.
“It’s some kind of living quarters,” Brett observed, sweeping her light across the space.
The chamber was simply furnished with what looked like military surplus: half a dozen cots lined one wall, a folding table and chairs occupied the center, and various storage containers were stacked neatly in corners. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust.
“They were living here,” Jasper said, examining the spartan accommodations. “Hiding in plain sight.”
But it was the walls that captured everyone’s attention. Every available surface was covered in intricate paintings and etchings of animals—not just random wildlife, but specific creatures arranged in symbolic patterns. Deer, foxes, rabbits, birds, fish—all rendered with remarkable precision and grouped in ways that suggested meaning beyond mere decoration.
Jan moved slowly around the room, utterly transfixed. Her flashlight beam traced over a particularly detailed sequence showing island animals in different seasonal arrangements. She recognized every species—from the ospreys that nested on the north shore to the fox family that den near the old quarry.
“These aren’t just animals,” she said, her voice hushed with awe. “They’re maps. Patterns. The migrations and territories of every major species on the island.”
Cooper was examining another section of wall. “And look at this—they correspond to frequency patterns.” He pointed to wave-like designs interspersed among the animal images. “I think the aliens were using animal movements to disguise or amplify their signals somehow.”
Ali’s three disks began pulsing in her backpack. She removed them, and immediately they aligned themselves, pointing toward a specific mural on the far wall—an elaborate circular design centered around a striking image of a peacock.
“There,” Ali said. “That’s what we’re looking for.”
The circular design, upon closer inspection, wasn’t just a decorative pattern—it was a drawing of a game board. Concentric rings divided into sections, with small indentations where pieces might be placed.
Jan studied the animal symbols marking each section of the board. “These represent different island habitats,” she noted. “The shoreline, the forest, the meadows, the freshwater pond…”
Jan was examining a shelf nearby. “Guys, look at these.”
On the shelf sat a collection of exquisite miniatures—game pieces, each shaped like a different animal native to the island. They were crafted from materials none of them recognized, with an iridescent quality that caught the light in impossible ways. Unlike everything else in the room, these pieces were surprisingly free of dust.
“They wanted us to find these,” Brett said, picking up a piece shaped like a fox. “They’re too clean compared to everything else.”
“It’s a puzzle,” Archer said, examining the board. “We need to arrange the pieces correctly.”
Jan stepped forward. If this was about animals, their patterns and behaviors, this was her moment to contribute. She’d spent years studying the island’s wildlife, cataloging their habits, understanding their interconnections.
“Let me try,” she said, gathering up the game pieces.
Working methodically, she began placing the miniatures on the board, consulting her field notes occasionally. “The heron goes here, by the tidal pools,” she murmured. “The fox family moved their den last spring, so they belong here now. The rabbits shifted their territory after the storm two winters ago…”
As she placed each piece, it seemed to settle into its indentation with a satisfaction that felt almost sentient. Cooper’s frequency meter registered tiny spikes with each correct placement.
“You’re doing it,” Ali encouraged. “Something’s happening.”
Jan continued, drawing on her deep knowledge of the island’s ecosystem. The last piece—a tiny, perfect swan—completed the arrangement.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then the board itself began to glow with a now-familiar blue light. The miniature animals seemed to shiver, then all turned in unison to face the center of the board.
From the very middle, a section rose up smoothly, revealing what appeared to be an ornate egg, reminiscent of a Fabergé egg creation but with otherworldly craftsmanship. Delicate filigree in unknown metals wrapped around a core that pulsed with inner light.
“It’s beautiful,” Brett whispered.
Jan carefully lifted the egg. It felt warm in her hands, alive somehow. At her touch, the filigree shifted and realigned, the egg opening like a flower to reveal the fourth key nestled inside.
“Four down, one to go,” Ali said in amazement as Jan handed her the key.
The moment Ali added it to the others, a low rumble passed through the chamber. Dust sifted down from the ceiling.
“I think that’s our cue to leave,” Cooper said nervously, gathering his equipment.
They quickly packed up, heading for the tunnel entrance. Brett, bringing up the rear, accidentally backed into what appeared to be a corner of the room—and promptly vanished from sight.
“Bett!” Ali called in alarm.
A moment later, Bett’s head poked back through what had appeared to be solid wall. “Guys, there’s another way out! Some kind of shortcut.”
One by one, they followed her through the hidden exit. Instead of emerging back into the woods, they found themselves in a dark, damp space with the distant sound of waves echoing against stone walls.
Cooper’s flashlight beam revealed old wooden beams, storage shelves lined with dusty supplies, and a familiar circular staircase leading upward.
“This is the lighthouse basement,” Ali whispered in disbelief, her hand automatically reaching for the railing she knew would be there. “I’ve been down here a thousand times.”
“How did we—?” Jasper began, looking back at the wall they’d just walked through. There was no sign of a door or passage.
“Transportation system,” Cooper reminded him. “Like the ones that took us from the treehouse to the cave, and from the cave to the theater.”
“The five points on the island map,” Ali realized. “They’re all connected.”
From above came the unmistakable sound of the lighthouse warning system activating—a low horn that signaled approaching severe weather.
Jan listened with professional concern. She’d grown up on the island and knew what that particular signal meant. “Storm’s coming,” she said. “A big one.”
A distant roll of thunder confirmed her assessment, audible even through the thick stone walls of the basement.
“The last key must be here,” Ali said, the four keys they’d already found clinking together in her pocket. “In the lighthouse.”
The basement lights flickered as another rumble of thunder, closer now, shook the building. Outside, the island’s wildlife would be seeking shelter—birds, foxes, and small mammals all responding to the approaching storm with that same strange intentionality they’d witnessed throughout the day.
“They know something’s happening,” Jan said, thinking of the animal patterns they’d observed. “Something bigger than just a storm.”
Ali nodded, her expression determined as she looked up the winding staircase. “Let’s find that last key before it hits.”
As they began climbing the stairs, none of them noticed the shadow that briefly darkened the basement wall behind them—larger than any shadow should be, moving against the light, and gone between one blink and the next.
“Shadows of the Keeper” is written by Julie D’Aloiso in collaboration with Anthropic’s Claude AI. Each chapter is crafted through creative partnership, combining human storytelling with AI assistance.
© 2025 Julie D’Aloiso All rights reserved.
