⸻ ❛𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒!❜
Rory Hargrove is obsessed to uncover the truth behind Barbara Holland's disappearance, while facing her brother's enemy and buried secrets from...
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"GUYS... I'M AFRAID TO SAY I THINK THIS IS A STUPID IDEA." Rory's mature voice broke the silence. Hargrove, with the flashlight turned on and held tightly in her sweaty hand — not from heat, but from nervousness — struggled not to trip over the tree roots and the uncertain, uneven dirt ground.
So, her gaze was cast down and wide-eyed most of the time, trying to absorb the reality around her, so she wouldn't risk being once again swallowed by the dark secrets of Hawkins' forests.
She, and the remaining eight souls, now with Eddie The Banished, followed Dustin's orders, spoken with excitement, growing in intensity — toward the strong electromagnetic field that was driving the compass' red needle insane.
In other words, toward one of Aurora's earliest, oldest, and strongest enemies in that town — the gate, which she suspected was at the heart of Lover's Lake.
As the sky darkened, the blackness descended and the forest became nothing more than a gloomy place with irregular and distinct shapes that could present potential dangers. Going there during the day was one thing. But at night, there was no blue bringing life to the lake, nor sunlight to illuminate the green trees around it. The dark lake became nothing more than a black sheet rippling gently under the soft breeze.
And, unsurprisingly, her and Steve's suspicions were right.
"Whenever the Demogorgon attacked, it always left an opening," Nancy observed, her radio-like voice contemplating the lake. "Maybe it's the same way with Vecna."
Aurora wanted to say out loud that she agreed with her, but it was as if her voice couldn't come out.
There, in that place, at that hour of the night, with the cold of a recent spring night freezing their nostrils and cooling their lungs — lungs whose ribcages rose and fell with intensity because of both fear of the unknown and physical exertion. Unknown, that wasn't so different for Steve and Rory.
At least there wasn't the same putrid odor of dead vines and rotting flesh, like in 1984. But now, there were the memories of the disgrace they had carried since that time — traumas that had, at the same time, produced patience and strengthened their minds, but also made their hearts more vulnerable, hearts that now beat wildly with scars. After some months of recovery, another tragedy soon haunted them — and that pattern left Rory visibly uneasy and tense.
After the death of her dear Billy, she felt she no longer had the same emotional resilience to face challenges. She was certainly weakened, and time, despite fostering some adaptation to her less complete family reality, only deepened the longing. She, Max, and her adoptive mother Theresa had to learn a new reality, a new way of living with tragedy. To build their story, despite their fractured lineage. But on the other hand, she was grateful Billy had died without knowing they weren't blood siblings — a secret that was worth keeping.
