Echoes of the Vanished Boy

Previously

…He didn’t mention the Weaver, or Arthur Finch, not yet. He needed to be sure. But the feeling in his gut, the one that had been nagging at him since he first saw the token, solidified into a grim certainty. Chris hadn’t wandered off. He hadn’t been lost. He had been taken, by someone who knew exactly how to reach him, how to make him feel seen, how to make him believe that the path into the woods was an invitation, not a trap. And the token, that small piece of carved wood, was not just a clue; it was a signature. A silent, chilling declaration from the Weaver. The hunt had just become a race against an unseen, unknown adversary.