Wearily, she glanced up the remaining steps before her. "598 steps", she thought meekly, wondering why anyone would build a house in such a remote spot to begin with. "Well, no matter; these locations always pay the best anyway." With a decisive nod, she continued up the century-old steps as a swift breeze rustled the leaves in the forest around her. It was a warm spring morning in the quiet countryside; the melodic calls of songbirds filled the warm air sweetly perfumed by the abundance of wildflowers that grew natively in the countryside.

Addy wasn't a country girl in the least. She was born and raised in the heart of the city; neighbor to a cop and 3 doors down from an abandoned factory. It was there, in the weed-choked and rusted shell of the building, that she stumbled across the discovery that would change her life.

She had taken to hanging out at the place. It was on her normal walking route to school and it saved her from having to deal with the stresses of home life for a few hours each day. At first she never ventured farther than edge of the cracked drive. As time wore on, she became braver and found a route into the structure itself. One time while she was exploring, she happened upon a strange old book amongst the general refuse that littered the floor. Something about the volume grabbed her attention. She picked it up and blew off the thick layer of dust and grime that had accumulated on it. The silhouette of a tree encircled in a flaming ring was the only marking on the cover. As she stood to head out with the book in hand, she heard them.

Whispering voices filtered towards her from the other end of the large machine room that she was in. Instinctively, she ducked behind a rusted piece of equipment and quickly developed an escape route in her head, fearing transients, gang members, drug dealers, or worse. Peering around the corner, she was astounded at what she saw.

In front of her eyes, the factory was transformed. She saw many workers along an assembly line working various devices. A few men were walking amongst them, making sure all was moving smoothly. Suddenly a man came bolting from another part of the factory, a look of terror on his face. "Fire in the fuel lines, EVACUATE!" he screamed. The workers looked up in a brief wave of confusion, then the confusion was replaced by looks of panic. They bolted for the narrow front doors in a mob and began fighting to get out. A thunderous boom shook the very core of the structure, and a furious wave of light and heat knocked Addy backward.

When she opened her eyes again, they were greeted by the filtered light of the evening sun through the grimy windows of the abandoned factory. As she propped herself to a seated position, her hand brushed an aged newspaper clipping.

"150 Dead in Local Factory Fire" read the headline. "What is going on?" Addy wondered dimly. Her eyes fell upon the book she had picked up early, laying where it had fallen when she was knocked backward. The circle around on the cover seemed to radiate like hot embers. Confused, she stood up and dusted herself off. With the book tucked firmly under her arm, she made her way out of the building and back home. Nothing would ever be the same.

As she cleared the final step, Addy gazed across the trim yard at the house. The morning sun glinted off the windows of the three-story victorian. The flowers that lined the wraparound porch were bright and perky, but Addy's countenance suddenly turned very dark. This wasn't going to be easy. The house was surrounded by one of the most malevolent auras she had ever seen. Running her hand through her short blue hair, she sighed and adjusted her backpack over her black t-shirt. "They always pay the best", she thought, "because they're always the worst off." And she headed up the path to the ancient house.