October 16, 2026

Tether 1

Tether: Session 01 - The Ink Across Eras

October 16, 2026 | Posted by Victoria

Nothing ever happens in Oakhaven. That is what they always say in a town built on timber and heavy fog, tucked deep away in the Canadian wilderness far from any major metropolis. But today, the silence broke.

I found the journal half-buried in the damp mulch behind the old family sawmill that Mom ran for decades, and which I now manage. It looked pristine, completely untouched by the weather. When I opened it, I expected blank pages. Instead, a message written in an unfamiliar, jittery hand warned me of a curse, of a periodic terror that feeds on panic, and of a connection across time.

I thought it was a sick prank. But holding the pen over the blank parchment, an irrepressible impulse took over.

[October 16, 2026 - Victoria's Entry]

I would have loved to have spoken with you, and I truly hope this fantasy I have of writing after my father is like making contact with him. If any part of this is real... please, let me know you're out there.

[October 16, 1996 - Michael's Entry]

The air is freezing tonight, and the sawmill is dead quiet. I'm thirty years old, running this place day in and day out, trying to build a stable life for Madelaine and our baby girl, Victoria. But tonight something shifted. The woods feel wrong. My hand is shaking as I write this into the binding of this strange book. If anyone is out there—if you can read this thirty years from now—tell me I'm not losing my mind. Something is watching the town. Something ancient. And we both share the same deep, gnawing terror of being completely forgotten in the dark.

...The ink is shifting under your words. We can communicate across the years. Keep writing.

I stared at the fresh ink drying on the page, including that astonishing, cryptic reply. My father. Thirty years old—the exact same age I am right now. Is someone playing a cruel psychological game with me? Or has the impossible truly bridged the gap between us?