Three years passed, people had picked up their normal lives again, friends talked again and children played outside again. The media also started to lose their interest and stopped coming to the island. Now the only visitors were thrill seekers or the few that wanted to shot a documentary of the events. But nobody ever came further than the entrance of the beach and no bright soul dared to go outside when the mist once a month appeared.

For many people the mist had changed their lives. Also for John; the towns council had declared the beach and sea as unsafe. Because of the new rule John couldn't pursue his career as fisherman anymore. He started to earn his living with helping the local blacksmith.

Until the third of august, he was about to head out when he found a large black crow made from mist sitting on his saloon table with a note in his beck. Confused John slightly started to panic, memories that John thought he overcame years ago came back stronger than ever. 'You... You curse, how did you come in?! Is this in my head again? Am I having a nightmare? This is not real, it's all in my head just like the doctor said.' He laughed nervously.

The crow crowed softly and carefully took a step closer to John, who responded by grapping the broom that was leaning against the wall. 'Get back you scum!' he yelled panicked, the bird carefully laid down the note, looked at him with its eyes filled of void and made its escape through the door while dogging the broom.

John's knees started to shack 'you're not real' he mumbled while tears started to swell up in his eyes, 'you never were.' Broken he sat with his back against the wall crying his eyes out trying to dismiss the situation. 'This didn't happen, they don't exist', he cried while glancing to the note 'but why is that thing laying there?!' He would recognize that symbol from miles away, a circle with a trident in it. For hours John kept looking at the note. Than he finally whispered 'Why are you trying to contact me?' accepting that the event really happened.