As dawn crept into the fog-laden harbor, Colin Deveroux raced through the mists clutching a puzzle box he no longer wanted. The boy ran past empty parking lots and darkened windows of stores and restaurants to a ramshackle shop that stood apart from the others. Colin’s thin frame ached and the stitch in his side screamed until he stopped a few feet short of the shop door to catch his breath. Twenty-four hours ago life had been simpler, if not any happier. Twenty-four hours ago, he still had his name, and monsters only existed in dreams.