Hemslock’s emails make up over half of the discourse; arguments over which parts of the island to focus on filming, the documentation and research they have for each episode, conjecture to make up for gaps in their knowledge.

“The Godseye is the real key,” Hemslock wrote. “There’s more than just treasure in that cave. If there’s any truth to what these myths say, then maybe we can figure out what they mean. There’s an eternity within a dream in there.”

“Surely you can’t believe these things?” one of the producers—Heussman, ironically—wrote back.

“We’re not ever sure of much in this world,” Hemslock responded. “And I’ve got bigger dreams beyond the treasure you’re all interested in. More than the supposed gold and trinkets that Cortes stole from the natives.”

“What are you doing?”

I turn. Chase stands in the doorway with his arms folded, frowning at me.

“Are you snooping through my dad’s stuff?” He marches over and shuts the laptop. “You know you’ll have to sign more than an NDA to read those, right?”

“I’m sorry. I was curious.”

“I’m not angry,” Chase says, sounding exactly that. “I just—I want to get off this freaking island, but everything’s conspiring to keep us here. Including Dad. Are they back?”

I glance at the time. “There’s another hour before sunset. I can get you an early dinner.”

“I’m not hungry. You don’t have to wait on me hand and foot.”

“I told your father I’d stay with you.”

“You didn’t tell him you would look through his stuff, and you did. I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Are you trying to blackmail me?”

Chase turns back to me, fury on his face, and then the ire leaches out of him. “I’m not trying to do anything,” he says wearily. “I just—I just want to go home. Home where I can post some clown shit on my socials and not care about anything else. I want all of us to go home.”

He stares down at his phone and then thumbs through the gallery of photos he’d saved there. “You see this?” He waves it at me, and I see the image Rory sent him with that dark figure in the background watching us. Except now it’s an abstract blotch in the scenery. The background is inconclusive now, though it had been so clear the first time we saw the photo.

“Why is it stalking me? I haven’t had any visions like the others. Why is it toying with me? Didn’t you say the Diwata won’t harm the innocent? Am I guilty of something?”

“Absolutely not—”

“Hey!” He turns and shouts at nothing in the room. “Are you here? Do you want to kill me?” He pauses as if expecting an answer. “Then stop fucking around and say that to my face!”

“Chase!” I say sharply.

“I’m tired. I’m tired of Dad chasing after Mom’s ghost, him never having time for me. And I’m scared. I’m beginning to think that maybe Dad has more to do with all this than I thought he did. Am I going to be punished for being his son?”