The wind hit Abigail Louden's face as she stepped out of SF house, her coat half-zipped and her boots knocking against the wooden platform. It was past midnight. The dark was oppressive, deep, hollow. The Mount Rushmore Superhero Camp was holding its breath.

She couldn't sleep. Hadn't even tried, really - her mind kept replaying JP's fevered murmurs, the argument in the common house, the way Autumn's eyes had gone weirdly vacant during the meeting. Riley slept in the bed next to her, clutching her notebook, but Abby couldn't even slow down her mind enough to close her eyes properly.

She decided to go over to Jacob's house. Its windows weren't completely dim yet, and knowing him, he was still up and had forgotten the time. Maybe his calm and organised self would help her calm down a little bit.

The camp was eerily still. The pines above loomed like silent sentinels, and against the grey clouds of the night sky, the silhouette of the presidents carved in the rock were barely visible. Abby's breath puffed out in clouds as she stepped along the wooden panels that formed the bridges connecting the treehouses, her flashlight beam wobbling across the rock face and the evergreen needles. She was halfway to Jacob's porch when a faint orange glow caught her eye. She squinted, and saw Marigold leaning against the outside of JP's shack, a cigarette pinched between her fingers. The tip flared as she took a drag, her face illuminated briefly, tired and weary.

Marigold hadn't noticed her yet, and Abby almost just continued to the house, not wanting to intrude - but then Mari's head snapped down, her eyes catching Abby's in the dark.

"Shit," Marigold muttered, fumbling to stub out the cigarette out against the wall of the treehouse. She crushed it under her boot, kicked the remains off of the platform and wiped her hands on her jeans. "Abby. Uh. Didn't see you."

Abby hesitated, and turned off her flashlight. "I couldn't sleep. Was heading to Jake's." She nodded toward JP's treehouse. "You okay? How's JP?"

Marigold's shoulders slumped, and she leaned back against the tree, her voice shaky. "He's stable, for now. Fever's down, but he's still out of it. Muttering that Lakota stuff." She ran a hand through her hair, her fingers trembling slightly. "Just needed some air."

Abby nodded and stepped closer. The upper pathway was not much further up than where Abby was standing. The air smelled faintly of smoke, sharp and acrid. She glanced at the little burn mark on the side of the treehouse, then back at Marigold, who looked like she was bracing for judgment. "Didn't know you smoked," Abby said, keeping her voice soft.

Marigold let out a dry laugh, more exhale than amusement. "I quit when I left home." She stuffed her hands into her jacket pockets. "Don't tell Sadie, she'll rip my head off."

"Does it help with your power?"

"What?"

"Smoking, I mean. You control life, right? Healing, growing plants, and smoking is… kinda the opposite. Does it balance it out or-"

Marigold stared at her for a second, then snorted, raw and tired. "No, dude. I'm just fucking exhausted. It doesn't do shit for my power. I'm smoking because I'm stressed out of my god damn mind, and because I needed something to keep me from screaming so loud they evacuate the entire monument." She shook her head, a faint, bitter smile tugging at her lips. "You're overthinking it."

Abby's cheeks warmed. "Sorry. I thought… maybe that was a thing. I know my power's easier to use when it's warmer."

Mari's smile faded, and she looked up at the sky. "Nah, just me. Being human. Weak." She said the last word like it tasted bad, then sighed, her breath clouding in the cold. "This whole thing's getting to me. The mountain. The rangers. USGS. And now I'm keeping one of our friends alive." She shivered "I'm not enough for this."

Abby's chest tightened. She'd never seen Marigold like this. So frayed, so… open. "JP's still here because of you," Abby finally said. "That's not nothing."

Marigold didn't answer right away. She pulled her hands out of her pockets, flexed her fingers. "Doesn't feel like it's enough. He's not waking up, Abby. It's not just a fever. We both know that."

Abby's stomach twisted. She'd been trying not to think about the thing in the mountain, the eye that had looked at her. "You think the mountain is doing this to him?"

"I don't know." Her voice was flat, her eyes were glassy, tired, but still somehow frightened. "But it's not random. None of this is."

The words hung in the air, heavy and cold. Abby wanted to say something reassuring, something to pull Marigold back from the edge, but her throat felt tight. She glanced up at JP’s treehouse, its windows dark, then across the camp, where the other treehouses stood like silent watchers. Somewhere above them, Autumn was alone, Louise was probably chasing echoes, and Sadie was holding everything together by sheer will.

"You're not alone," Abby said finally. It was trite, but at least it was true. "We're gonna get through all this together."

Marigold looked at her, her expression softening just a little bit. "Maybe." She sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve. Just for a bit, she was just Marigold again, messy, human, pollen allergies, trying her best. "Go see Jake. He's probably pacing a hole in his floor."

"You're gonna be okay?"

Marigold nodded, but it wasn't convincing her. "I'll head back inside soon. Just needed a minute." She looked in her pocket, checked the pack of menthol cigarettes, but didn't take another one. "Don't tell anyone, okay?"

"Promise." Abby zipped up her coat the rest of the way and continued over to Jacob's treehouse. She reached the platform, then knocked softly on Jacob's door, and pushed it open when no answer came.

The air inside hit her like a wall, it stunk of fresh paint. Jacob’s treehouse looked like it had been possessed. Every wall, every surface, was plastered with sheets of paper, each one covered in intricate circular patterns - spirals, fractals, overlapping arcs that seemed to twist and shift when she blinked. They hung from strings, curled over the edges of his desk, spilled onto the floor in chaotic piles. The desk itself was a war zone: rulers, compasses, protractors and pencils scattered like shrapnel, a half-empty coffee mug teetering on the edge.

Jacob Austin Ganz sat at the table in the center, hunched over another sheet of paper, his hand moving with mechanical precision. A compass spun in his grip, carving perfect arcs, while his other hand scratched numbers in the margins. His hair was a mess, his eyes bloodshot and shadowed, like he hadn’t slept in days. He didn’t look up, didn’t even seem to notice her standing there.

"Jacob?" Abby’s voice was soft, but it felt too loud in the stifling room. She stepped inside, letting the door creak shut behind her. "You okay?"

He flinched, just slightly, his compass pausing mid-arc. "Abby," he muttered, his voice rough, like he’d been talking to himself for hours. "Didn't hear you come in." He didn’t look at her, just kept drawing, his hand trembling faintly as he adjusted the ruler.

Abby's eyes darted around the room again, the shapes making her dizzy. The drawings weren't just obsessive - they were somehow wrong, like they didn't belong in just two dimensions. The lines seemed to bend despite being perfectly straight, pulling her gaze inward, making her head hurt if she looked at them for too long. She forced herself to focus on Jacob, stepping closer. "What… is this?"

"This," He gestured vaguely at the chaos around them, his eyes still fixed on the paper. "This is the key, Abby. To the sphere. The mountain. It's all in the geometry." His voice sped up, words stumbling over at each other. "These patterns, they're not just shapes. They're impossible. Non-Euclidean. You can't draw them right, not really, because they don't fit in our space. But I'm getting closer."

"Closer to what?" She glanced at the nearest sketch, pinned to the mini fridge. The circles seemed to pulse, like they were breathing, had a heartbeat. She looked away, her skin prickling. "Jake, this is… intense. When's the last time you slept?"

He didn't answer, but instead just kept drawing, his compass scraping against the paper. "Sleeping's not the point." He muttered. "The point is the math. The sphere is not just… a thing. It's something else, a, a… doorway, maybe. These patterns, I saw them in the lab. They move. They think." His voice cracked on the last word, and he finally looked up, his eyes wild, feverish. "I have to figure it out, before they do."

"They? The rangers? USGS?"

"All of them," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "They're coming. Abby, they know we're here. But they don't understand it like I do. They can't."

"Can you just... take a break? I could really use a distraction right now." Abby sighed and cleared some of the papers off of Jacob's couch. "I'm tired, and this entire thing... it freaks me out."

"You can sleep here." Jacob mumbled. "I don't mind." He took another piece of paper and drew a new circle, then another one, another one, spirals connecting them. He shook his head, crumpled up the paper and tossed it towards the trash can. It was barely visible under a mountain of tossed sheets. "I'm just getting closer and closer here. Slowly. Very slowly."

"Why don't you go join Riley's dad in their little lab?" Abby yawned, sarcastically, but Jacob paused.

"That's it." Jacob said. He jumped up from his chair, grabbed his jacket and went for the door.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You're not going to-"

"I'm going back to the lab. In the mountain. I have to get closer to that... thing, it's the only way I'll understand it."

"Jake, you can't just- it's the middle of the night!" She hopped up, grabbed his arm. Her fingers dug into the worn fabric of his sleeve. "Stay, sleep, we'll figure this out tomorrow!"

He shook her off. "I have to. These, these patterns, they're not just in my head. I'm not crazy, they exist, in the rock, in the tunnels, in the-"

"Forget the patterns!" Abby yelled. "I'm scared something is going to happen to you! You're going to get yourself killed!"

He shook his head. "I'll be back before dawn. I promise." He stepped out onto the platform, and the door swung shut behind him. Abby stood there, tears in her eyes. She considered running to tell Sadie, waking the whole camp, but that wouldn't do. That would just freak everyone out. Jacob was already climbing down the ladder, and Sadie would just yell, and they'd lose even more time. The camp was splintering all around her and all she could do was watch.

She grabbed the Park Service searchlight the mountain had repaired. Jacob had kept it on the side table - she flicked it on and stepped outside. The wind stung her eyes as she scanned the clearing, maybe he hadn't gone far. Nothing. Just shadows and the faint creak of the trees swaying. Her beam swept across the camp, landing on the base of Autumn's treehouse, where a figure sat hunched on the gnarled roots, barely visible against the snow.

She climbed down and moved closer, her boots crunching softly in the snow, until she could make out who it was. Louise sat, curled up with her knees to her chest, her shoulders shaking.

"Louise?" Abby said, forgetting that she couldn't hear her. She hesitated, then crouched down a few feet away, waving her flashlight gently to catch Louise's attention. She snapped up, her eyes wide and red-rimmed. She swiped at her face, trying to hide the tears, and signed something quick, sharp. Abby's caught the shape of a "sorry", but the rest was a blur. Then she climbed up the rope ladder, went to her house, and closed the door behind her. The lights stayed dim.

Abby didn't follow Jacob. She didn't want to go back into the lab, and she didn't want to go back to her own treehouse. She went back to Jacob's place, wanted to sleep on the sofa, but the sketches of the patterns kept staring at her.

She started collecting them. Unpinned them from the wooden walls, picked them up off the floor, and stacked them all in a neat pile. It was quieter in the room now. Not quiet enough - her thoughts were still racing, but quiet enough to sleep on the couch. Dawn couldn't come soon enough.