The cottage smells like woodsmoke and pine, same as always. But something is different today. While chasing the cat under Dad's bed, your fingers brush a chest you've never seen before. Old wood. Strange symbols carved deep into the lid. The moment you touch it, your head goes buzzy and strange, like a hum behind your eyes. You don't know what's inside. You don't know why it makes you feel that way. You just know Dad's boots are thudding up the porch steps right now.