The Rockfields always seemed to hum with energy. That was what people said, at least, the tourists and the crystal shop owners and the self-proclaimed psychics. The "Redstone Resonance," they called it. A mystical energy, or a spiritual connection, or a cosmic alignment.

Cian Cahill had never bought into any of that. The rocks were just rocks. Impressive rocks, sure—immense formations of crimson sandstone that had been carved by the wind into shapes that sometimes looked intentional, if you squinted. Some old sci-fi film from the 70s even filmed a scene set on Mars out here on the red rocks. But still, they were just rocks. Sedimentary deposits, oxidized iron, remnants of a prehistoric seabed. Simple science.

Lately, though, he'd begun to question that hypothesis.

Cian sat reclined upon a flat boulder at the edge of the Rockfields, a textbook open on the surface in front of him. He'd come here to study in peace, away from the bustle of town, away from all the noise. Two pens and a highlighter were arranged in perfect parallel atop the stone beside him, along with a notebook full of meticulously organized information. The mid-August sun beat down relentlessly, pushing the temperature well into the 90s. Sweat trickled down his neck, but he ignored it, focusing instead on the paragraphs about cellular respiration that he'd read four times already without absorbing a word.

Because the rocks were humming. Not metaphorically, not spiritually. Actually humming. He could feel it—a low vibration that seemed to thrum dully through the sandstone into his body. It made Cian drift back to the long, unending drone of cicadas during his summers back in Alabama.

And it wasn't just the rocks. He could sense the lizard hidden in the crevice two feet to his right, its cold blood pumping rhythmically as it waited for him to leave. He could feel the power lines running half a mile away, carrying electricity to the outskirts of town.

Cian screwed his eyes shut and shook his head, taking a moment to adjust his white baseball cap and run a hand through his hair. This, out by the Rockfields, was still an improvement over being in town. He just had to lock in and focus.

Everything had started a few weeks ago, around when Grace's Grotto had opened. At first, he'd thought it was a form of heightened awareness, maybe stress. Then, with a creeping feeling of panic, he'd wondered it was some kind of low-level hallucination, possibly brought on by too much caffeine and too little sleep. But when the lights in his room started flickering whenever he got frustrated, when his laptop glitched out during an all-night study session, when he could tell his mother was home before he heard her car in the driveway—he had to admit something was happening.

At least he could keep having caffeine.

Still, it was something that defied logical explanation. And if there was one thing Cian Cahill couldn't stand, it was a phenomenon he couldn't explain.

With a huff, Cian leafed through the pages of his notebook, finding a section toward the end. He'd started keeping notes. Meticulously documenting every unexplainable incident, every strange sensation. That was how his mind worked, cataloging, organizing, searching for patterns. And that was how science worked. It had to be something environmental. Maybe it was—

Suddenly, the bioelectric signature of the lizard flared as a distant rumble of thunder rolled across the Rockfields. Torn from his notes, Cian looked up at last, glancing west. Dark clouds heavy with rain had gathered on the horizon while he'd been lost in thought. A summer storm rolling in without warning, not too uncommon he had learned, even in the August desert. He'd give it ten minutes, maybe less, before the downpour hit.

Exhaling, he closed his textbook and gathered his materials, tucking them carefully into his black backpack, perennially covered in red dust. The hike back to town would take about twenty minutes if he hurried. With luck, he might beat the rain.

He glanced down at his black, analog wristwatch. It was a gift from his father for his fourteenth birthday, simple and utilitarian. That was long before the vibrations, the noise. And yet, the watch did not hum. It was self-winding, powered through pure kinetic energy produced by the motion of the wrist. Even now, even with everything feeling like it was changing, his father's gift was the same as it had been before. It brought a small smile to his lips.

The storm's arrival had been well-timed. He had somewhere to be soon. He slid off the boulder, adjusted the white baseball cap, and started walking.

Cian had made it about halfway to Main Street when the rain began—plump, warm droplets that quickly became a torrent. Cian didn't bother running. He'd pulled his hood over his cap and just resigned himself to getting soaked when he felt something that made him stop dead in his tracks.

Something. A presence. Close. And big. It wasn't human. It wasn't animal. It felt almost like standing next to a power substation, but distorted somehow, as if the current was flowing in impossible directions. It drowned out even the roar of the falling rain. He couldn't tell where it was coming from.

Maybe running was a good idea.

But slowly, very slowly, Cian forced himself to turn in a complete circle, his sharp blue eyes scanning the desert landscape around him. Nothing but scrub brush, red rocks, rain.

The presence remained, looming and overwhelming.

He could feel his own adrenaline surging, the bioelectric signals in his own nervous system accelerating in response to perceived danger. Fight or flight.

Cian backed away, forcing himself to do so without sudden movements and trying to process what was happening. There was nothing there. Nothing visible, at least.

And then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the presence vanished, leaving behind only the steady pattering of rain and a lingering sense of… dread. Cian stood frozen for several more moments, water streaming down his face, before forcing himself to move again.

He'd add this incident to his notes later. But concerningly, this wasn't the first time something like this had happened. And he was afraid it wouldn't be the last.

He needed to get to town.

The rest of the walk to Main Street took longer than anticipated, his basketball shoes squishing with every step by the time the buildings came into view. Redstone's downtown wasn't much—a single main drag with low-slung, adobe-style buildings painted in earthy tones that complemented the surrounding landscape. In the rain, the red dirt turned to rusty puddles that reflected the neon signs just starting to flicker on as afternoon edged toward evening. The hum of the Rockfields was replaced by the artificial electric vibrations from the lights, the cars, the people waiting cautiously indoors for the storm to pass.

Cian eventually passed the vacant storefront that had once been Grace's Grotto. He slowed, studying the dusty windows and the "For Lease" sign that looked like it had been there for years, not weeks. It was surreal, walking past that empty space. He could remember it so clearly—the mismatched furniture, the rich smell of coffee, spices, and sweets, the way Grace had smiled at him like she knew exactly what he was thinking.

"You must be a student. I bet you could use a little something to sharpen that keen mind of yours," she'd said with a chuckle the first time he walked in. She'd handed him a steaming mug of coffee that smelled of cardamom and a hint of something he couldn't identify—and it had been exactly what he needed. His brain had felt clearer, more focused.

And now the café was gone. No trace it had ever existed. To many, while it seemed a little strange, they just moved on with their lives. But not everyone. There were others who remembered. And maybe others who have also… changed.

Because Redstone was changing too. And the feeling Cian would get, the sense that something very big was just inches away from him and pulsing with energy, wasn't the only thing that was different.

Cian's hypothesis was that they were all connected, somehow. And he was going to find out.

That was why he'd posted the flyers a few days ago. "RE: GRACE'S GROTTO - INFORMATION WANTED," with a time and place to meet. The Redstone Public Library, Study Room C, 7:00 PM. He'd been careful with the wording, trying to strike a balance between sounding credible and getting the attention of the right people. The flyer asked straightforward questions: "What do you remember about Grace's Grotto? When did you first notice it open? When had you noticed it was closed? Do you have photographs or receipts from the café?" Cian had wrangled with the idea of mentioning anything beyond this, like unusual events or personal changes, but something made him feel uneasy about doing so. He figured anyone who had been affected would read between the lines, and anyone who hadn't would hopefully dismiss it as a student trying to document local history for a project.

He'd put them up at the college, the diner, and the library itself. He'd been methodical about it, choosing high-traffic areas where they'd be seen by as many people as possible.

Now, soaked to the skin and still feeling unsettled, Cian checked his watch again. 6:15. The meeting wasn't for another forty-five minutes, but after what had just happened, he needed time to collect himself. To organize his thoughts. To prepare for what might be a complete waste of time, or might be the first step toward understanding what was happening to him—to the whole town.

Over the past week, Cian had kept his distance from most people. The new sensory input was overwhelming enough without adding the complicated electromagnetic fields of human nervous systems to the mix. His mother, Helene, had noticed, asking if he was feeling well, and he'd brushed it off as end-of-summer fatigue. The truth—that he could literally feel the surge in her neural activity when she was worried, the subtle changes in her bioelectric field when she was keeping something from him—would only make her worry more. Obviously. Because she might think he was losing his mind. After everything—the sensations, the reactions of electronics, the presence he would feel... He wondered if he was too.

The rain was starting to let up as he approached the library, a surprisingly well-maintained and charming building. Inside, it smelled of aged paper and new carpet, the air conditioning a shock after the humid heat outside. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed with a particular frequency that immediately set his teeth on edge—it was different from the natural hum of the Rockfields, artificial and jarring. He could sense the electric current flowing through the walls, the subtle electromagnetic fields of computer equipment, the faint signatures of the few patrons scattered throughout the building.

One of the librarians stood behind the front desk, Ms. Winters. She looked up as he entered, her eyes flashing behind a pair of thin reading spectacles.

"Caught in the storm, Mr. Cahill?"

"Yes, ma'am," Cian said, glancing down at his clothes and sensing a spike of something from the librarian, maybe disapproval. He tried to modulate his Southern accent, but to no avail. Not to mention the ma'am would betray him regardless. "It's letting up now. I caught the worst of it."

She hummed but said nothing more as he made his way toward the study rooms in the back. He could feel her attention on him, though. Not just visually—he could sense it, the way she emanated a kind of focus. Suspicion? Curiosity? With a glance around the library, he could see it was almost vacant. Ms. Winters most likely saw his posting on the bulletin board at the front of the library and could guess why he was here.

Study Room C was empty and dark when he arrived, as expected. It was a small, windowless space with a round table, chairs, and a whiteboard mounted on one wall. Cian set his backpack on the table and pulled out a notebook—not his scientific observations, but a new one, blank and ready.

He caught his muted reflection in the whiteboard—a lanky, waterlogged young man. So much for first impressions. With a grimace, he unzipped his soaked hoodie and slung it over the back of one of the chairs, leaving him in a slightly drier white T-shirt. He briefly considered removing his wet baseball cap and decided against it. His wavy half-wet hair underneath would be worse.

…Not that it mattered, really. This wasn't about impressions. It was about information. Data points. Finding the signal in the noise.

He settled into a chair facing the door and waited, chewing on the cap of his pen. In exactly thirty-seven minutes, he would find out if anyone else in Redstone was as desperate for answers as he was. He tried to predict who might show up. A friend? A neighbor? Perhaps someone he'd never noticed before. Someone changed, like him.

What would he even say to them? "Gee, I’m sure glad I ain’t the only one with superpowers."

Don’t be an idiot, Cahill.

But if they'd been to Grace's, if they'd felt the changes... maybe they wouldn't need much explanation. Maybe they were just as eager to make sense of what was happening as he was.

And maybe, just maybe, he'd discover he wasn't alone in this.

His fingers twitched, poised to reach for a cup that wasn’t there. Damn it. He should've picked up a coffee somewhere on the way.

Jacob sat at his computer with his head in his hands. A simple 16-bit smiley face and a small text box took up one of his three monitors, and a jumbled mess of code and models took up the other two. He sighed and looked back up at the face, which kept up its blank smile despite his expression.

"No, I need you to respond with your own words, not the ones I give you."

The machine didn't respond. It wasn't programmed to receive and process audio, let alone human speech. He was merely voicing his frustration. The task of coming up with an AI model that created its own messages instead of premade and predetermined responses. It was easy to make something that seemed like genuine AI, but making the real deal was an entirely different can of worms.

After sitting at his computer for a few more minutes, Jacob looked at his desk, which had barely enough room for his setup amid the various machine parts and wires that were strewn across it from his other projects. On top of everything was his phone, which had a picture of a flyer on it. It had to do with that cafe that closed not that long ago. Well, "disappeared" was a more accurate term for what had happened to it. He missed the place, even if there might have been some strange happenings there from time to time.

He looked over at the clock mounted on the wall beside his desk. He had to squint to see the time in the darkness of his room, lit only by the monitors in front of him. 6:00, it read. Jacob figured he probably had enough time to get ready and walk to the library if he hurried. He made sure to save his work before he shut his computer off. I doubt it matters anyway, he thought bitterly as he turned the machine off, plunging his room into darkness.

Jacob turned on the lights, blinking a few times as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. He opened his closet and pulled a hoodie off of the floor and made sure it didn't smell too awful before he put it on. He needed to do his laundry soon. He'd been putting it off for a while. Then, he trudged out of his room, not bothering to turn off the light, and into the kitchen. He opened the old-looking fridge, the light flickering annoyingly as he peered inside. Jacob grabbed a protein shake and closed the fridge. "Breakfast of champions," he muttered to himself in the darkness.

He walked out the door of his apartment, locking the door behind him. Jacob didn't care much about himself, but he didn't know what he would do with himself if anything of value was stolen from his apartment. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of neglect and old cigarettes, which seemed to permeate the hallways no matter how much air freshener Jacob and his neighbors sprayed outside their doors. He opened his drink as he walked down the hallway, pulling a face at its sub-par flavor. Vanilla was never one of his favorites, but it was all he had. He couldn't go outside on an empty stomach.

Jacob walked down the stairs and out the main door, which slammed on his way out. He was grateful that he didn't have to talk to any of his neighbors today. That would take time and energy, neither of which he had much of right now. As he walked down the sidewalk, Jacob could hear faint whispers emanating from the people he passed. They weren't talking, but their minds were. Jacob made no effort to listen to them, and actively tried to ignore their voices. It was one of the weird side effects that he supposed Grace's might have had on him. He wanted to believe that it wasn't, but something in the back of his mind told him otherwise.

He pulled his hood up, trying to protect himself somewhat from the rain as he walked, looking at the library in the distance. It seemed miles away with the windy, rainy weather, but he knew it was only a few blocks at the very most. Jacob bent forward, shielding his face from the cold rain as much as he could.

"Couldn't they have picked a better day for this?" he said, feeling a mild sense of annoyance toward whoever made those flyers.

As he approached the library, Jacob felt a knot forming in his stomach. What if it was all a trick? What if this is just some ploy from some super-powerful government group that made Grace's Grotto disappear? He shook his head. That kind of thinking was for conspiracy theorists and crazy people. Jacob knew he wasn't a conspiracy theorist, and he was pretty sure he wasn't crazy.

I think.

He walked into the library, checking his phone for the time. It was 6:30, Jacob was ahead of schedule for once. He walked through the shelves, examining books about computers and coding before walking over to the fantasy section. He looked around for another minute or so, then he walked to the study rooms. Jacob saw someone inside Room C, who he assumed was the person who put up the flyers. He figured that they wouldn't mind if he did a little eavesdropping on their thoughts, only to find out their intentions, of course. He doubted they'd notice.

Jacob knocked on the door softly before opening it, peering inside at the stranger. He pulled down his hood so they could get a better look at him, peeling it off of his soaked hair. His bright blue eyes seemed to glow faintly in the dim light, although it could just be a trick of Cian's imagination.

"You're... the person who set up the flyers, right?"

“Oh you poor dear.” It was the first thing Morgan had ever heard from Grace as she extended her weathered hand towards him. He stood staring at the aged woman and gave her a weak smile. Normally he would have been offended at this outstretched hand.

Weakness.

It was a feeling he hated and yet he felt compelled to grab her hand and she led him to the nearest seat speaking to him about the weather and minor things like he was a grandson. Completely ignoring his limp and before he could even order she was gone.

Morgan looked around the Grotto taking note of a handful of familiar faces from school as well as a few of the townsfolk. The seat was hard but in a good way that supported his lower back. As he felt himself slightly relaxing it was like she reappeared out of nowhere with a mug in her hand.

“Here is a special drink honey.”

Morgan took a small sip of it. It was heavenly. It was sweet, warm, and milky. He had expected coffee but whatever this was it great. Within seconds he could feel a great soothing feeling running down his spine making his eyes widen in shock.

“I made yours of stronger stuff.”

His eyes locked onto her wrinkled face as her piercing, yet kind eyes looked over his face. He felt at a loss of words as his eyes quickly glanced down to see the glass was already empty. When had he downed the rest of it?

“Thank you ma'am” He spoke weakly still confused as Grace refilled his drink.

The red headed young man would be a liar if he said he did not miss Grace. Somehow despite having multiple customers she somehow made time to talk to everyone and she remembered everything. She felt like grandmother to him.

Morgan shook the pill bottle as his eyes scanned it. It had been weeks since he had taken one. The idea to sell them had briefly crossed his mind as high grade painkillers were worth money in the right hands, but he tossed it aside. Choosing to keep them as a reminder. Whatever ingredients were in Graces drinks were nothing short of a miracle. He had chosen to continue walking with a limp even if he had noticed Grace laughing at him faking it, but she seemed to understand and never said anything.

It made his mind travel to the strange experience he had about a week ago. He had been home and had locked himself in his room ignoring the banging on the door of his old man. He was drunk again and angry. Throwing out obscenities and blaming Morgan for his own failures. Eventually the noise had gone away and after a few hours Morgan left the room to go out to the dark living room to find his father passed out in his recliner reeking of booze. A frown crossed his face when all of a sudden, the air around him grew heavy and extremely humid.

It felt like Morgan's legs were threatening to give out under the strange pressure like a giant hand was attempting to crush him. Strange whispers began to assault his ears and when he felt he could stand it no longer a sudden light source chased away the darkness.The pressure and presence had lessened but came back with overwhelming force almost like it was trying to kill him but the light that had started at his hands quickly engulfed him and whatever it was fled.

The light was so pure. So comforting, it had felt like he was floating away. Even after the danger had left he didn't want to leave. Something was calling him. He could feel his consciousness slipping. His eyes had begun to see nothingness despite being wide open. It was only a sudden loud snore that had caused his glazed blue eyes to focus on the slumped figure in front of him and by extension see a family picture of his mother and father holding him.

“I.... Morgan.....I....am.....Morgan.....I am Morgan Watkins.”

No longer feeling himself floating away but now anchored the light slowly receded leaving a collapsed and sobbing Morgan. The euphoria of the light had been so intense all of his worries, pain, and existence had faded in that brief time but he knew he couldn't leave yet.

“Mr. Morgan.”

The young man jerked with a start leaving his thoughts as he looked up seeing the familiar face of the librarian looking down at him.

“Ms. Winters”

Morgan huffed out gathering his thoughts.

“People are beginning to assemble for that flyer you have been eyeballing.”

Her tone sounded slightly judgemental but her expression looked netrual. Morgan nodded as he slowly stood up and began to limp towards Study room C leaving his little office. He could already see two people here. He was hoping for some answers as he limped across the threshold and flashed his best brightest smile.

“Gentlemen!”

Time passed with excruciating slowness in the empty study room. Cian had continued checking his watch, and somehow only five minutes had gone by. Thirty-seven minutes remaining until the scheduled meeting time.

His mind began to slowly drift back to where it had been at the Rockfields, thinking, postulating, trying to make sense of his encounter with that overwhelming presence in the rain. It required a conscious effort to stop himself. That's why he was here, after all. He had to give himself a break, distract himself, at least until others arrived.

Cian pulled his laptop from his backpack—mercifully still dry in its waterproof compartment—and opened it on the table. The screen cast a cold blue glow across his face as it awoke, and Cian could feel its circuits humming beneath his fingers. He navigated to a folder labeled "Future Plans" and opened a document he'd been working on for the past few weeks.

In flowing red script, the words "Ole Miss" flashed onto the screen. Cian stared, almost breathlessly. He scrolled down to an essay that was about a quarter finished and paused again.

His transfer application. He had been working on it for the past few weeks now, mostly in secret. He still had months before the deadline—his sophomore year had just started at Redstone College, and this was for his junior year. But strangely, it wasn't Cian's meticulous planning, but the mere prospect of going that was motivating him to start early.

Ole Miss. Where both his parents had gone. His father had always talked about Cian going there someday, walking the same paths he had. Before the cancer took him. Before everything changed.

His mother didn't know yet. And Cian didn't know how she might react. Would she see it as abandonment, after everything they'd been through? Cian had stayed in Redstone to attend college because it seemed practical. It was cheap, and he was able to stay living at home. It had only been four years ago that he had come to Redstone, was he really ready to leave again, to leave his mother behind? But transferring was practical too, for his own future. A better biology program, more opportunity for research. Maybe he just wanted to feel connected to his father again, to walk where he had walked, to sit in the same lecture halls. The choice seemed so clear a few months ago.

But now? Now, he was sitting in a library study room waiting to meet strangers to discuss a vanished coffee shop, paranormal happenings, and inexplicable abilities. Now, the thought of standing in Vaught-Hemingway Stadium at Ole Miss, where he had been to countless football games with his father in the past, made him feel physically ill with sensory overload. With tens of thousands of people—tens of thousands of nervous systems all firing at once—he didn’t want to imagine the grinding cacophony.

Now, everything was different. He was different.

Cian closed the document without making changes and slumped back in his chair, glowering up at ceiling.

In response, the light flickered briefly, off-on-off-on, mocking him. He stiffened, straightening up, and took a deep breath to regain control. He made a mental note to add the incident to his log later. Another goddamn data point.

Just then, Cian felt something—a subtle disturbance outside the door. A presence, human, but with something unusual about its signature. Not like the overwhelming entity he'd encountered in the rain, but still… anomalous. The field around this person seemed to... expand—no, reach—outward, probing in a way that made the hair on Cian's arms stand up.

The knock came a few seconds later, soft but audible in the quiet room. Cian shut his laptop just as the door opened, revealing a tall young man in a rain-soaked hoodie. The stranger's blue eyes seemed to possess an unusual glare—almost a glow. Cian couldn't tell if it was a trick of the light.

The newcomer pulled down his hood, his energy palpable to Cian’s senses. Cian stifled a wince as he felt the rapid firing of neurons, the slight elevation in heart rate—classic physiological indicators of anxiety or tension.

Cian was bad with faces. Something about the stranger seemed vaguely familiar—maybe back from high school, maybe even from the Grotto? Whoever this guy was though, he was on edge, buzzing with a particular kind of tenseness Cian had come to recognize in himself over these past strange weeks.

"You're... the person who set up the flyers, right?" the young man asked.

Cian stood, perhaps too quickly, knocking his chair back slightly in the process. He adjusted his damp baseball cap instinctively.

"Yeah. Yes, that's me," Cian said, extending his hand out of habit before second-guessing the gesture. He wasn't sure he wanted skin contact with someone whose energy signature read so... differently. He awkwardly redirected the movement to gesture toward the empty chairs. With another glance at his watch, he said, "You're a little early. Meeting's not for another twenty minutes, technically. Why don't you take a seat and get comfortable? I see you also got caught in the rain."

Cian was still waiting for the tall newcomer to respond when another presence pinged on his newfound sensory radar. This one was again unique. Less probing than the first, more... radiant, somehow. Like the warm glow of incandescent lights rather than the sharp buzz of fluorescence. It pulsed outward in waves that felt almost soothing compared to the jagged electrical patterns of most people.

Then came the voice, booming with an overt cheerfulness that somewhat matched the signature he was detecting.

"Gentlemen!"

Cian peered behind the first newcomer to see another young man arrive at the doorway, his bright smile contrasting with the slight limp in his step.

"Hey," Cian said, immediately straightening his posture. He repeated the gesture toward the empty chairs. "Come on in. We haven't started anything yet."

He paused, studying the limping man more carefully. There was something familiar about him, too. "You work at the library, right? I think I've seen you around."

He glanced between the two of them, feeling a sudden wave of relief as he soaked in the fact that people had actually shown up. Not just people—but two individuals whose energy signatures set them apart from the ordinary residents of Redstone. Maybe this wasn’t a waste of time after all. His hypothesis was gaining traction.

"I'm Cian," he said, addressing the newcomers. "Cian Cahill. I put up the flyers about Grace's."

He was suddenly aware of how ridiculous this all might seem from the outside—a biology student calling a secret meeting about a disappeared café. He drew in a deep breath, gathering his mind. There was no protocol for this kind of meeting, no scientific precedent for discussing what was about to be discussed. But these two had shown up, which meant they remembered Grace's. Which meant they might be experiencing changes too.

"I guess I should explain why I posted those flyers," Cian said. His accent made the last word sound like "flars," which almost made him cringe at himself.

"Obviously, something happened to Grace's. Not just that it closed—places close all the time. But it's like it never existed. The records are gone. Photos too. The place looks like it's been abandoned for years."

He felt for their potential reactions, searching for the subtle electromagnetic shifts that would indicate anything. Recognition, agreement, maybe fear.

"And I think," Cian continued, his voice dropping slightly, "that some of us who went there, who drank Grace's coffee..."

He paused before a small leap of faith.

"We feel different. In more than one way. And things around town, they feel different too. To me, at least."

Another breath. He urged himself to not make the flights flicker again.

"So I guess my question, what I’ve been wondering about is… has anyone else noticed anything unusual since Grace's place came or after it disappeared? That’s why I set up this meeting, to gather data. I’m a scientist, not a conspiracy theorist."

Michael was sitting in his apartment, in his room, lying on his bed, thinking with his hands behind his back. About what has changed and why he may have a power now. He knows he feels different while in sunlight, not just the good feeling but actually feeling physically stronger, faster, and more, and he has no explanation for it. For what could explain a sudden change in his biology or mental state that could account for this?

You do not get like this on its own, Michael thought, and he has done tests over the weeks since having this feeling. It is not just a feeling but something that does make him stronger, but why does the sun do this to him now? He sighed at the thought as he tried to think. Something has happened to him, and now things are different and so far. Michael has kept this a secret, even from his grandmother. It was not hard, but she could tell something was amiss with him, and he just covered it by saying the late nights at the observatory were starting to get to him. A lie that she seems to believe for now, and while he does not like lying to her, what could he say really? Hey, I have a superpower now, and I am solar-powered... Even though he can show her what he is talking about, Michael does not want to say anything to her about this until he knows more.

Which brings him back to the only thing that has changed in his life in Redstone that could somehow be connected to his power. Grace's Grotto, a place that he and others frequented but suddenly closed as suddenly as it opened. Michael enjoyed his time there and Grace's drinks and her somehow knowing what he wanted before saying anything. A peculiar thing but something that he ignored for the most part.

Could that be the missing link? Grace's Grotto? He knows when he passes by where the place was. It looks like it has been abandoned for years, not weeks.

Still, this is just a guess, a pure speculation on his part. Michael just does not know what it could be, and Grace seems to be the only factor so far. But he may not be alone in this. He checked his watch, and it was getting close to seven, it was now time to get up. Since he had seen that flyer about Grace's Grotto and he had to take the chance with it. There could be others like him, and maybe they can get some answers if this meeting is not a waste of his time, that is.

So he quickly got out of his bed, and before he left his apartment. Michael looked outside from his window and saw the rain as soon as he heard it."Of course, it has to be raining now." An annoyed Michael said to himself and put on a green rain jacket before leaving and closed and locked the door behind him.

It did not take long for him to drive to the library and park near the entrance. Limiting the time he had to endure that rain but still had his hood up to cover his head regardless. Upon getting inside and putting his hood down, he was greeted by a librarian, Ms. Winters. "Hello, Mister Dasher.

"Hello Ms. Winters," Michael said with a hint of respect.

She would nod and carry on her business, but he could tell that she was still watching him for some reason. Maybe she was curious why he was here and all.

Either way, Michael made his way to study room c and hoped that this was not some kind of trap and just a waste of his time. But as he got closer, he could hear voices coming from the room. So he is not alone but, still. He took a deep breath as he reached the door. How goes nothing, he thought nervously to himself and opened the door to the sight of three people. One he kinda recognized while the others not so much and stepped into the room and closed the room. "Hey, and am I late or not interrupting anything? I saw the flyer, and... here I am."

Olive - Band practice room, college campus

The banging of the drums and high-pitched screams could already be heard from the floor below the practice room the girls were in. It was just a small, cramped place with fading wallpaper and less-than-ideal sound-proofing, but it was one of Olive favorite spaces to be in. Others might consider their music chaotic and too frantic, but playing the drums is when Olive feels most at peace and relaxed. It allowed her to let go of anything that was bothering her, channeling those emotions into something creative and at times even liberating. Lately however, she had been preoccupied with stuff she had no clue how to deal with and that was honestly just...extremely unsettling.

As the song they were currently working on came to its end, Olive could feel her t-shirt sticking to her back, caused by all the sweat from playing the drums combined with the summer heat. The room didn't have any sort of AC or even windows, so playing their music became really exhausting during these hot months. On one especially broiling day, Rebecca had had enough and decided they should end band practice early and instead get a drink somewhere. Although they had a few usual hangout spots, there was a new place that had been getting some buzz throughout campus: Grace's Grotto, a cozy and somewhat particular cafe that was supposed to have the best coffee in town. Olive wasn't a big fan of coffee, but she expected the shop to have a number of other drinks she would enjoy. As soon as they entered through the doors, Olive was immediately enveloped by a sweet-smelling combination of coffee and vanilla that invited her to sit down and let go of all her worries. Although she had never been there before, the place instantly gave Olive a feeling of familiarity and coziness. This feeling was only heightened as the sweet-looking lady approached their table to take their orders.

"Hellooooo, someone home in there Olive...?" She blinked twice as Rebecca's question abruptly brought her back to the real world.
"Oh yeah, sorry, was just remembering something...not that important." She replied, the memories of Grace and the smell of coffee fading into the background of her mind. "Well, I was just mentioning how you said you had to leave practice sooner today, so I thought we can stop here. Really liking how the song is coming along!" Her friend exclaimed with a smile addressing the band. "You don't wanna miss your little weirdo meeting, right?" She added in a lowered tone so that only Olive would hear, a sly smirk on her lips. "Oh shoot thanks, I forgot to check the time!". Olive wasn't a forgetful person per se, just chaotic and somewhat unorganized. She quickly got up and hastily threw her things into her backpack. Her phone display told her she still had almost 30 minutes until the meeting was supposed to start at the library, more than enough time to make it there. "And please don't call it that, that makes you the weirdo" she whispered back with a teasing tone as she grabbed her stuff and headed towards the door. "See ya tomorrow, gang!" Olive called out as she left, her thoughts slowly returning to Grace's Grotto, but also wondering how true Rebecca's comment regarding the upcoming meeting would turn out to be.

Once she stepped outside the building, Olive was immediately hit by a strong breeze and refreshing droplets of rain. She allowed herself a few seconds to enjoy the luke-warm water washing away some of her exhaustion, but decided it was better to hurry up and avoid showing up like a wet poodle. As she took out her umbrella and started walking towards the town center, Olive couldn't help but think how glad she was she hadn't been completely honest to Rebecca regarding the flyer and Grace's Grotto in general. She had flashes of remorse about keeping those things to herself, but the weirdo comment was proof enough for her that Rebecca might not understand or believe what she was going through.

Neither Rebecca nor the other girls had ever made any curious comments about that sweet little coffee shop or their drinks, which enforced Olive's belief that something had affected her differently. "You look like someone with a big sweet-tooth, right my dear?" Grace had asked her on their first visit after taking everyone else's order. Before Olive could even react, she continued "I have just the thing for you, a nice Chococino Delight, yes! Don't worry, it's mostly hot chocolate, whipped cream, some cinnamon and just a splash or two of espresso, you'll love it" she said, as if she already knew about Olive not enjoying the taste of coffee very much.

That Chococino Delight was easily one of the tastiest things she had ever tried. Grace hadn't exaggerated, the drink was sweet and you could only taste very light notes of espresso in it. They had been back to Grace's Grotto a few times after that, and every time it felt like the Chococino tasted even better than the last. Olive was also convinced that drinking it lead to a tingly sensation emanating throughout her whole body, an intense feeling she hadn't experienced before and that she was sure couldn't just be blamed on the little amount of caffeine inside her drink. And then a few days later came the...vibrations.

The first time it happened was the most surreal feeling Olive had ever gone through. She got frustrated working on an assignment, which was nothing too unusual for her, but the way her feelings behaved as she was about to voice her frustration definitely was. The anger started to pulsate, as if moving through her body, starting from her stomach area and extending to her extremities. As soon as those weird pulses reached her fingertips, it felt as if the frustration was being ejected out of them - and suddenly the loose paper on her desk was blown away in a windy breeze. Other similar incidents kept piling up after that, Olive would get mad or worked up about something, and a few loose items in her vicinity went flying. These...powers also have to be connected to Grace, right? Does that mean the other people at the meeting have some sort of ability as well? The thought sent a shiver down her spine as she rounded a corner and the library finally came into view.

Interestingly enough, it had been through Rebecca that Olive first found out about the flyers. "Have you seen these around campus? Sounds like crazy talk, no?" Rebecca had asked, showing her a picture of a flyer on her phone. Ever since they were kids, Rebecca loved to get involved in any sort of gossip involving the town. They joked about the proposed meeting and that Grace's Grotto had been some sort of cover for a secret government agency, but on the inside Olive felt worried.

She had always been curious about the occult and creepy and loved magic systems and supernatural powers in fiction, sure, but those were things that had nothing to do with real life. The flyer however meant her experiences at the coffee shop and maybe even everything that had happened after were not unique to her. There was at least one other person out there trying to make sense of it, and that person had been determined enough to create the flyers and set up an in person meeting. No one would go this far for a joke or some stupid conspiracy theory, right? As these things go, everyone in town had an opinion or theory about the disappeared coffee shop, but none of that could truly be taken seriously. After a restless night of back and forth with herself, her curiosity won in the end, and she nervously decided to attend the meeting and at least find out who was behind it.

Olive walked up the library steps and entered the building, shoving her thoughts about the last few weeks to the side and trying to focus on and prepare for the meet-up ahead. Please don't let there be too many weirdos...I don't want Rebecca to be right she thought as she greeted Ms. Winters and started walking towards the back where the study rooms were located. Olive was not a regular visitor of the library, but had been there plenty of times as a high schooler. It didn't take long to find study room c, especially as it was the only one currently in use. To her surprise, she could see there were already 4 people gathered inside the room, even though it wasn't 7pm quite yet. She hadn't been sure what to expect, but seeing a number of people already there helped calm her nerves. Alright then, let's do this She encouraged herself, grabbing the door handle and taking a deep breath, stepping into the room. "Hey, uhm, you guys are meeting because of the flyers right? Sorry if I'm late...

Morgan nodded happily at Cian's words and rubbed the back of his head with a smile on his face as he closed his eyes. "That's me! This is where I haunt!" He snickered at his own lame joke. As the third man walked in Morgan began to realize that three was a crowd for this little doorway and picked himself out a seat about halfway down the table.

This was perfect. Being in the center of the room gave him a clear view of everyone and the doorway. Leaning back into the cushiony chair he relaxed slightly. He had to admit he was a little on edge because he was intensely curious about Grace and where her diner had gotten to. Morgan propped up his arm on the table and rested his head on his palm as he watched each of the fella's talk amongst themselves.

Everyone here was here for the meeting and he had seen each of them quite a few times at the library usually at a distance. Most tended to stay out of a cripple's way. Common courtesy he reckoned or maybe just so they wouldn't have to offer him aid. He didn't try to understand people, but it was ok. Morgan had a slightly stubborn streak when it came to accepting help. Plus, if he was being honest with himself, he usually fled into his office when the library became overly crowded.

When Cian asked his question Morgan stayed silent. He did not wish to be the first to speak and was rather curious as to if any others had encountered anything strange. Though he did look down at his hand and wondered if he should just activate his power since it might be easier then trying to explain and looking like a mad man.

However, before he could do that the fifth person walked in. A young woman that he felt a slight shiver run down his spine. His eyes flashed with recognition. Someone that had been in his same grade in high school. Though they rarely if ever chatted. He strained his brain slightly and if they ever spoke it might have only been in passing.

Olive.

He straightened his posture up slightly and put on his best smile though, he didn't aim it at her so if she turned to look at him, he wouldn't be smiling like an idiot. He was excited. If all these people had powers? What would it mean. Had each of them had a run in with the darkness. It had to have been frightening dealing with whatever that was.

(Editing with colors soon I'm typing this on a Kindle)

Jacob could sense the others' arrival before he could see them, heading the collective yammering of all their thoughts coalesce into a single maddening cacophony that threatened to drive him insane. An annoyed expression crossed his features as he tried to block them out.

"Could you guys, I dunno, keep it down? I'm trying to think here."

Jacob sighed, knowing he most likely sounded crazy to them. It was almost impossible that anyone, let alone someone in this room, knew anything about what that weird shop did to him. He didn't want to explain what he was talking about, how he could hear their indistinct thoughts, but he felt that he had to.

"You guys might call me crazy, but I think that place, Grace's or Gertrude's or something, might have messed me up a little."

He waited for someone else to chime in before he fully explained himself, just in case someone broached the subject before he did.

After Cian extended his question to the group, he was surprised to see even more people arrive at the study room. Another guy, and a girl. They arrived so suddenly with everyone else that Cian hadn't sensed their approaching bioelectric signals. But now, there were five of them. Five. He’d never imagined this many would show up, and this early.

Cian extended quick be reassuring greetings to the newcomers—they were on time, no one was late, things were just getting started. He glanced around the quickly filling room, noting the expressions—cautious, uncertain—and something else. A reticence. Likely a nervousness. No one seemed eager to be the first to confirm something impossible.

Then came the outburst from the tall one about "keeping it down." Cian tensed. It would have made sense if everyone had been in lively discussion—but this was during a moment of near-total quiet.

Cian felt it then—sharper than before. The thrumming pressure behind his eyes. The ringing in his ears. The ripples at the edge of his vision.

Five of them now. Five new signatures vibrating in this enclosed space, buzzing and tingling and pressing in against the edges of his awareness.

It was making it hard to think.

The realization, the connection cut through the noise. Are we the same? he wondered, almost in awe. His gaze flicked toward the others. Are we all?

Then came the next comment. A little softer, but clearer. Cian recognized it as a small concession, and admission, to his previous question. Another small leap of faith.

Cian said nothing at first. He just looked at the tall young man with a steady, unreadable expression. Not judgment. Not even surprise. Something closer to... understanding. Quiet empathy.

He straightened in his chair and drew a slow breath.

“You’re not crazy.”

He let it hang there and hoped it sounded more confident than he felt.

“That feeling you have. I have it too. That's why I put up the flyers. That's why we're all here.”

Cian stood, walking over to the whiteboard. He grabbed a black dry erase marker, pulled the cap off, and began writing in big—and somewhat sloppy—letters.

GRACE'S GROTTO

Underneath it, he added:

GONE?

He paused and then also wrote:

WHERE IS GRACE?
WHY NO RECORDS?

Cian almost wrote down something else: MKULTRA?. A slightly humorous but ultimately grim acknowledgement about the café itself. And the coffee. And by extension, the changes he had been feeling. And he wanted to write something about the strange occurrences around town, too, the one's that felt so unnatural, even malevolent. But he decided not to, not yet at least. He still was afraid of the possibility that he was still alone in that regard. Sure, they could all agree about Grace's being gone, which was strange enough. But experiences bordering on the supernatrual, the unscientific? He wasn't sure about that yet. As he had said before, he was a scientist, not a conspiracy theorist. He would wait and see if anyone else gave any more hints as the tall one had not long before.

---

"♫ Even through the night...
You light the way for me...
Chained and bound, burdened in life...
And you set my poor soul free... ♫"

The Cliffside Chapel was filled with the sounds of the youth practicing for a mass to be held later tonight. Among them was Serena, daughter of the famous Erikson and Felicity Cooper. Her younger brother Michael was also a part of the choir, his positivity and excitement for singing spreading through the group like the rays of the sun through parting clouds.

Singing was Serena's way of relaxing whenever she felt anxious or nervous about something, and she's been frequently anxious lately too ever since the disappearance of Grace's Grotto. It's... perplexing to say the least. A place like that wouldn't just disappear so quickly especially in a quaint town like Redstone. She also didn't understand how she seemed to be the only one affected by its mysterious disappearance.

That's what she thought at least. While going to the chappel, she saw a flyer that said something about a meeting to discuss Grace's Grotto. She's not going to lie, part of her felt relieved she wasn't the only one who's thinking about this deeply. On the other hand, another part of her felt very weirded out to find out she wasn't the only one thinking about this deeply either.

"♫ Wrap me in your loving light...
Give me the strength to fight...
I can do all things for You...
I will live my life for You... ♫"

Serena then clapped her hands. "Aaaand that's a wrap! You guys are amazing! Alright, time to get some rest. Make sure to drink water before singing later, okay?" She said to the youth choir who all enthusiastically replied in agreement and in unison at her. As she gave a warm smile and high-fives at them, she also couldn't help but marvel at this chapel. She sung at tons of different chapels before, but this one just made all the kids sound like angels each time they sung. The locals did say it was because of the 'Redstone Resonance', but they never really fully explained what that was exactly.

While the choir members were talking to each other and relaxing before the mass, Serena approached her mother Fel who was talking to the parents of the choir group. "Serena, honey! Lovely work as always! You just seem to know how to make someone sing like a bird! God really took His time with you, my love."

"Oh, um, the kids are already talented. I just nudged them in the right direction, is all." Serena sheepishly smiled and replied.

"Ah ah... What did I tell you, iha? Learn to fully accept your gift. The Lord gave it to you, it is disrespectful to downplay your talent. I keep telling you that, right?" Fel said, gently nudging Serena's shoulder and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Right, s-sorry..." Serena replied, looking at her sides nervously before continuing. "Um, Ma? Can I... Can I be excused for tonight's ceremony? Just for tonight. I have a... Er... Well, I got invited by my friends to go... W-Watch a movie. Yes, watch a movie."

Fel's eyebrows raised, clearly surprised. "Really? I must say, I'm very much surprised. This is your first time asking to not attend a mass. Usually you're the first one out the door whenever we have a ceremony to attend."

"Yes, I know, I know. It's just that..." Serena could hear her heart pounding just trying to make up an excuse. "I really like- love! I love hanging out with them. And I've... I felt lonely nowadays? So I thought hey, maybe I should get out more? And socialize and stuff...?"

Fel slowly nodded, looking at how the number of people have been gradually increasing as the start of the mass drew near. "I'll talk to your daddy. Go and have fun, just don't do drugs yeah?" She kissed her daughter's forehead as Serena gave her a warm smile. "Thanks Ma. I love you!" She gave her mom a quick hug before going out the chapel.

As she made her way to the library where the meeting was supposed to be held, Serena reminisced about her experience at Grace's Grotto and the events afterwards. She remembered the cafe was just about to close when she visited it. As far as she knew, Serena was probably the Grotto's last customer before it disappeared the next day. She was heading home after spending some time at her music student's home where she was invited to have dinner before leaving as a token of gratitude.

Serena thought she wouldn't be let in, but Grace warmly welcomed her and offered her a seat. "Hello, little bird. Perfect timing, I just finished brewing this lovely drink I think you might like." Serena was then offered a cup of ginger honey tea and in the first sip, she could literally feel a comforting warmth envelop her soul. She felt like she was being embraced by her loved ones, and every sip after that was just as fulfilling as the last.

She felt sad and confused when she found out the Grotto was nowhere to be found afterwards, but she felt more confusion about her newfound power. She had a papercut when flipping through her music sheets. For some reason, she was compelled to focus on her faith as a sense of calmness washed through her. To her surprise, the cut healed itself in seconds. She didn't think too much about it at first until she saw a bird chirping on the ground, its wings seemingly broken. The same thing happened to her and she was able to heal the animal but she felt a bit of vertigo afterwards.

She never talked to anyone about it, not even her parents. When her brother got sick, Serena decided to try it out once more. She embraced him while he slept while thinking of her love for him and faith in the Lord. Her brother was fully healed after a few minutes of focusing, but it left her exhausted as a result.

This strange thing only happened to her after her visit at Grace's Grotto. She couldn't believe it but her ability to heal was real no matter how much she denied it. Serena knew it was a ridiculous notion , blasphemous even, but was it possible that Grace was God all along, visiting Earth in physical form? Was this some kind of test for her? Is she His messiah on this world? And were the people she was about to meet at the library also God's messengers? If so, what could be their mission?

Serena greeted the librarian and made her way to the study room. She was nervous to find there was already a few people there already. She thought of backing out and going back to the chapel, but her desire to find out about the mystery of Grace's and her powers were stronger than her social anxiety this time. She knocked the door and opened it, closing it behind her. "H-Hi. Um, sorry to interrupt but there were these flyers that said to come here to talk about Grace's Grotto and... Am I in the right place or is it the other room...?"

---- One Week Earlier ----

Carl flips through the notifications on his phone while trudging down mainstreet. Turning the corner where the hardware store was the sun was particularly high in the sky. It was 12 and he was just heading back from the GYM. Still wet from the shower he thought he'd dry in the sun. He was headed to the Diner for his usual lunch. Except he noticed the new cafe, Graces Grotto. Far from being surprised given the towns history for the paranormal he didnt blink an eyelid and headed in, probably for something like pumpkin-spiced soup.
There was a chime as he entered through the glass front door and shuffled passed the busy tables. Scanning the chalk sign for something like a burger.
"Hello young gentleman"
Uhm hi, i'd like aaah...
“I know just what you need” Said Grace
“A menu” Grace pushes the menu into Carls hand.
ah-o id like an uuuhm...
Carl scanned the menu, it was filled with the typical hocus-pocus themed lunch menu. Lets see here...
Oh, wow, waffle-sausage burger!
Ill take one please?
"Home-made Ketchup?"
Oh you bet.
"Any Coffee"
With a warm smile Carl returns "How did you know?"

Within a second Carl shuffled sideways into one of the stall seats and was shovelling his burger into his mouth. The ketchup was fantastic!! Tasted of fried zucchini, paprika, both sweet and salty.
Taking a drag from his Coffee in between mouthfulls he began to shuffle through his checklist in his mind.
Got my course work, professor gave us a week to complete the first design for the shirt... wait...
Something didnt seem right...
"There you go, cav"
Had she called him cav? That wasnt his name. Did she really call him that? He mused as he took another mouthfull.
Finishing the last of his coffee including the dregs which trickled down, it was a beautiful coffee. Perfect temperature and the flavour was smooth with a slight clawing at the back of your throat. The smell was something in between java and amazonian with a hint of some herb. He scrunched up his frown. I hope people arnt gonna start calling me ‘cav’, maybe she had misheard his name was Carl… both started with a ‘C’ anyhow. But how did she even know his name atall? With little more thought he brushed it off, grabbing his GYM bag he headed off in the direction of the college.

Later that day Carl was the worse for wear. He kicked his shoes off as he entered into his room. Stretching to undo his shirt he winced, the heat of the day was unbearable. What was going on? He felt like he was covered from head to toe in sunburn. Only worse. The heat travelled up and down in waves like an ocean. What could be happening? Reluctantly he thought he might be suffering from an illness and crawl under his prestine cotton bedsheet. Closing his eyes there was a flash and smoke. He could hear the booming in the distance. What in the hells? He tightened his fatigue shirt. There was a tinkle of metal. "If we dont get out of here they'll swing around" The orders were plain and their importance bode a slowly dawning terror. "Listen if we dont make it, someones gotta check in on my darlin'", "Shhhh!" whistled Knight. "All we gotta do is keep our heads down and they'll pass right by us". There was a crack from over by the treeline and all-at-once Carl woke up drenched in sweat.

How long had he been asleep? Had he slept through 5th period? No matter… he was just exhausted.
Trying to close his eyes he could feel something moving on his skin. No, it felt more like a heat signature. Slowly it moved around to his ribs.
There was a creek of the door and his mom poked her head in. With intuition she had known something was wrong with her son.
“What is it? You didn't even come in for dinner?”
Sorry mom, just tired from gym.
“Ok, well ive left you some steak in the fridge”
A moment passed.
Im up. Im up.
A steak is something he couldn't afford to pass up, no matter how much courage it took to fight his way through the sun stroke.
Trudging through to the kitchen he opened the refrigerator. There she was, all gleaming with fried-goodness.
But the refrigerator revealed something else. The heat of his heat stroke retracted instantaneously to a gleaming point over his heartspace and his body absorbed the cold weather of the appliance, all that was left was a prick of heat, the size of a finger… He could feel everyone in the house as they were moving. More so with the quiet crackling of the fridge, he could hear his breathing. But there was something more, he could feel the breaths of everyone in the household, as though they were breathing on his skin, his arm hairs pricked up.
Well… this is new. I seem to have ESP… he said drowsily. Hope it isn't always this exhausting…

---- 19:00 Study Room C ----
Carls trainers squelched in the gutter as he mounted the pavement. Maddeningly, not much had changed since he’d discovered he had super powers. He hadn't been contacted by some secret order of heroes, or kidnapped by black ops. What HAD changed was his approach to life. There was something about knowing you had super powers which brought a tremendous restructuring of his priorities. Carl felt it was only a matter of time before someone else figured it out.
Tucking down his red windbreakers’ hood that was covering his jacket, shirt and jeans, he was covered in the residue of rain. Waving at Mrs.Winters he proceeded to the study room corridor passing by a display textbook shelf.

Stopping at study room C he turned the aluminum handle and went in. A few moments passed shyly he stood there blinking, then sat down at the table with the group that was already there.

Are you the group thats about Graces Grotto? Ive been having these weird side effects, something in the coffee, been keeping me out of the shower for days, even walking in the rain’s about all i can stand, you guys have been affected too right?
I need this to go away because ive got studies but i kinda wanna get to the bottom of this…

A few moments passed the flustered bodybuilder proffered out a hand to all of those sat at the table. Though he was broader in the shoulders than most of the other occupants of the tiny room there was nothing off-putting about him.

Sorry, where’s my manners. -Its like I've got fingers running up and down my arms!- The names’ Carl Knight!

Carl tried to force a congenial smile but it was hard with a group of students he didn’t know. He thought he recognised some of them on campus but couldn't be sure. Thinking he’d better put his best side on show was one thing, doing it was another. The trickling of finger nails, each one denoting a position of an occupant in the building was beginning to fray his nerves. It was always more unbearable in the rain. Somehow the temperature differential…

"Cian Cahill. I put up the flyers about Grace’s."
Cahill was about what you’d expect of a nerdish type. He wouldn't look very out of place with a lab-coat on. For a matter of fact if you let your vision blur his white hoody sorta resembled a lab-coat.

"That's me! This is where I haunt!" said Watkins with a typical display of the cripple kids gumption. He lent over the table with a jaunty movement, though Carl could see that his condition must be improving as he was visibly in less pain.

Olive was already sitting, she seemed to be wearing allot of skater attire. So Carl assumed she would be easy to find down by the skater park. Though he did note a few band name bracelets hung from her wrist.

Carl noted that Dasher closely resembled Gordon Freeman from the games. He hoped that between him and Cahill they’d get some answers to what was happening to them. Hopefully before one of them had to visit the hospital.

Jacob was playing his cards close to his chest. Carl tried to guess what he studied but his outward demeanour displayed very little.

Serena was sitting listening to everything that was going on. Her mind was clearly processing, if it was social anxiety it didn't show, instead a beam of healthy zeal radiated off-of her. Carl noted the juxtaposition between Serena and Olive. One was clearly dark one was clearly light. Carl briefly compared them to the game pokemon, if Serena was Vulpix then Olive was probably an Absol.

In a moment the conversation had run on.

"Could you guys, I dunno, keep it down? I'm trying to think here."
"You guys might call me crazy, but I think that place, Grace's or Gertrude's or something, might have messed me up a little.” said Jacob
“You’re not crazy.” Cahill responded.

Carl let out a big exhalation WHOOT. Finally. I was beginning to think i was the only one.

He let it hang there and hoped it sounded more confident than he felt. “That feeling you have. I have it too. That's why I put up the flyers. That's why we're all here.”

Gathering himself Carl tried to show composure, though it was getting easier. So when you say feelings… you couldn't possibly be talking about… conspiracies, we couldn't be talking about something thats only… skin-deep He let his witticism shimmy its way though the air. The smile peeking from the edges of his face.

Within a second Cahill started scratching with a marker into the board

WHERE IS GRACE?

WHY NO RECORDS?

Carl had hoped there was more to go on. Could it be that she had blown into town, was she working for some shady chemical factory searching for human test subjects. What did the government know? And if he did go to Uncle Sam would he end up in some secret research lab? Quest as he might Carl couldn't push the possibility out of his mind, “could this really be a supernatural occurrence” if it did it was the first genuine experience he’d had in Redstone.

If we havent got any records, maybe someone could find one of the coffee cups, or better yet a coffee filter? It was a good idea, as good as any. These were the first steps in building a case. However the trail was about cold being over a week ago. The only way to get the disposable coffee cups would be to raid the dumpster behind the old set of buildings where Graces Grotto was placed. Either that or they'd have to approach it from another angle.

The arrival of the last few members happened in quick succession, filling the small study room C almost uncomfortably. Cian hadn't quite registered their approach amidst the internal static buzzing in his head, the low-level thrum that intensified slightly with each new arrival. Six people now, not including himself. Six individuals drawn here by a simple flyer about a coffee shop that felt like it never existed to begin with. Six distinct bioelectric signatures pulsing in the confined space, interfering constructively with the hum of the library's fluorescent lights and the lingering scent of rain-soaked clothing.

He offered brief acknowledgements to the final two arrivals, a young woman with an earnest, searching energy and a broad-shouldered young man, Carl Knight, who radiated a strange mix of flustered energy and something else that Cian couldn't quite ascertain. Carl's immediate mention of weird side effects and difficulty with temperature changes resonated with Cian's own heightened senses, another data point confirming his hypothesis wasn't unfounded.

That, paired with Jacob's earlier outburst about the noise… It was exactly the kind of correlation Cian had hoped, and dreaded, to find. It wasn't much, but the evidence was there. Cian came to the shaky conclusion that these people had not just come because a beloved café had disappeared without trace. And not even just because things felt different around town. Cian was beginning to realize that these people may be showing up because they felt different, like him.

He nodded towards Carl, acknowledging his input and taking a shaky breath. “Right. Not just things feeling different around town. Side effects, like you said. We… we feel… not the same as before.” Cian tapped the marker against the whiteboard where he'd written the basic questions about the Grotto. “That's the core of it. Grace's Grotto seems to be the common denominator. I'm guessing we all went there, and now... For some of us, maybe we are different.”

Cian turned to Carl again, nodding as his suggestion.

“I agree with you. Physical evidence—cups, coffee filters—any lead would be helpful. The problem is, I don’t know if there is any physical evidence. The storefront looks like it’s been empty for years. I can’t find any receipts from the place.” Cian pulled out his phone, holding it up. “Pictures of the place are gone too. That’s what makes the disappearance so… strange.”

“Still, I’d have no problem with a, uh, coordinated dumpster dive, but my other concern is time, the other weird aspect about this.” Cian held a hand to his head, closing his eyes for a moment. “The thing is, do any of y’all even remember when the place disappeared? I mean, exactly? ‘Cause to me I want to say it was a week ago… Maybe? Or was it a month ago? My memories of the place seem so concrete, but the timeline of everything… Feels almost like a dream.”

Cian shook his head.

“But you’re right, Carl. We haven’t actually searched. That might be a good place to start.”

Cian throttled his rhetoric for a moment. He had gotten tense just talking about all of this. His chest had gone tight, and his free hand was balled into a fist. He scanned the faces around the table, and realized he still barely knew these people.

To alleviate the tension in the room, Cian took a moment to gather everyone else's names. As they spoke, Cian took mental notes, noting their demeanor and their bioelectric signatures.

Jacob: guarded, tense, with that strange reaching quality to his energy. Morgan: optimistic, maybe too optimistic, with a signature that seemed to pulse with warm light. Michael: quiet, curious, with an energy that reminded Cian of the sun on a clear day. Olive: apprehensive but bold, with vibrations that seemed to ripple outward. Serena: rooted but feeling shaken, with a signature that seemed to ebb and flow like a gentle tide. Carl: determined, confident, with a field that seemed acute and sensitive.

Their signatures were all distinct, but they also all felt different from typical people, those you'd pass on the street without another thought apart from glancing acknowledgement. Sensing them all at once was verging on overwhelming, but in a way, it was also validating.

“So, let me get this straight," Cian continued after the introductions, pacing a small circle in the limited floor space. “We all visited Grace's Grotto. We all had some kind of... unique drink there, something she seemed to know we'd want before we even ordered it. And now Grace's is gone, like it never existed. And we're all experiencing… the aforementioned ‘side effects.’”

He hesitated. Screw it, it was time to be more direct. He had a feeling these people, gathered all here, would understand him.

“Side effects, like… Well, for me, I… can feel electromagnetic fields. Electricity. And living things too, ‘cause we all have electricity inside us, in our cells and nerves. I can sense them. It started small, but it's getting stronger. And sometimes, when I get frustrated or upset..." He gestured vaguely at the fluorescent lights overhead. “Things... happen. I don’t know. Things glitch out.”

Cian looked around the room, watching for reactions. “Like I said before, I’m a scientist. I'm studying biology. I should be skeptical. But I've been writing down everything, and there's not a rational explanation I can find. So I figured, maybe I'm not the only one. And again, Grace’s seems to be the center of it all. The things is… did anyone actually get bad vibes from Grace at all? Did she really seem like a bad actor? The origin of a conspiracy? I just can’t get behind something like that, even if it feels like the only explanation.”

The clock on the wall ticked loudly in the silence that followed. And then, something happened that even Cian, with all his growing sensitivity, hadn't anticipated.

Cian had always been fascinated with codes and ciphers since he was little. And when the fluorescent lights began to flicker above the group, Cian understood almost immediately. It was not in the erratic pattern they sometimes did when Cian lost control. This was regular; the lights flickered in a pulsing pattern: three short, three long, three short.

S.O.S.

A chill swept through the room, raising goosebumps on Cian's arms. The temperature dropped several degrees in seconds, cold enough to see their breath fog in the air. The windows rattled in their frames, and the whiteboard marker in Cian's hand began to vibrate against his fingers.
Then, he felt it again. The presence.

Then, for a moment of complete dread, every person in the room felt as though they were alone. Alone. No longer in the library, no longer in the present. In the void, an infinite void. Only one thing permeated the nothingness: despair. Then, each of them saw something, something that rattled them to the core.

Before Jacob, fleeting images, ghostly apparitions from his past flickered into view—his family, his earlier life.

Before Morgan, an image of his father and mother appeared. His mother vanished into a puff of smoke, and a bottle of liquor appeared in his father’s hand. He slowly morphed into a jerseyed football player and charged at Morgan, sending searing pain through his spine.

A cop car appeared before Olive. She knew what she’d find inside. But the car came closer into view. She couldn’t look away, she couldn’t… Her mother stood next to her, her eyes fixed on the car. Slowly, she walked closer, slowly she saw, her eyes bulging and brimming with tears.

Michael found himself inside a car. His parents in the front seat, oblivious to their surroundings. The darkness. Except, there was something else in the darkness. A pair of headlights, coming straight for them. His parents didn’t see it.

Serena saw her father. He wasn’t looking at her. Liquor and poker chips flashes across his eyes. He disappeared in a puff of cigarette smoke, replaced by another presence, this one unseen. One thing was for certain. It was not God. It was not God. It was not God.

Carl stood in front of his father and his grandfather. They did not face him. They were not away of the shadows creeping toward them from the void, curling in tendrils around their feet and up around their bodies. They were in danger. They would be taken.

And Cian. Cian saw the white baseball cap first. Like his own, but with “Ole Miss” written across the front. A tall man stood there, looking right at Cian, his blue eyes gleaming in the blackness.

Cian stared. He could not breathe.

“Dad…?” His voice emerged as a hoarse croak.

Darkness appeared on his dad, originating on his left side. His pancreas. The darkness spread, consuming his father until there was nothing left but the void.

And then, just as suddenly, everyone was back in the study room. The lights were not flickering. The temperature was normal.

Miraculously, Cian was still standing. He did not stumble. He just stood there, frozen. His eyes drifted to the whiteboard.

NOTALONEWEAREWATCHINGNOTALONEWEAREWATCHING

His writing from before was gone, replaced by the chilling message.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry. Everything else felt normal. Not shouts from outside the door. No sirena echoing through the thin walls from outside. No other disturbanes in electric fields nearby. Nothing.

He scanned the room again. Cian didn’t need to ask. He knew they’d all felt it too. Seen something.

“No,” Cian said, his face turning resolute. “No.”

He approached the whiteboard and swiped at the cryptic message with the back his hand. He was destroyed evidence before documenting it. He didn’t care. He ran his hand from left to right, then right to left, leaving only five letters left on the board.

WATCH

“We aren’t alone,” Cian said. “That’s for goddamn sure.” He glanced back at the others. “’Cause there’s us. We got each other. And we’re watching now too.”

He uncapped the pen and wrote on the board again.

THE NEIGHBORHOOD WATCH

He returned to his seat, slumping down into it and feeling utterly exhausted.

“We’ve got to get to the bottom of this. ‘Cause now I feel like it’s personal, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna sit here be mocked. We’re the Watch. We’ll figure out what’s behind all of this, if y’all will join me.”

There was a dark flash before Carls eyes,

Where did i go just now? He saw his father and grandpa, their backs were to him.

Stillness…

Reality seemed fuzzy…

They were abandoned… now… no… for-saken… forsaken… Forsaken! GOD Jesus god NO!

What has forsaken them? This is not of this earth! What in gods name has forsaken them. It better not be ME… Itd better not be me… i have not forsaken them! I HAVE NOT!

Then as if escaping through a tunnel he emerged back in study room C.

Tears rolled down his cheek.

I’D NOT FORSAKE THEM
I’D NOT DO IT.
I’D NOT.

He was raising his voice.
He lept up out of his seat bumping the table forward an inch, startling the group back to wakefulness. Then grabbed his phone from his pocket.

The small screen illuminated.
Ti-tick-ti-tick

“Dad, Grandpa, i just need to check in with you… make sure your safe… please respond as soon as you get this text.”
SEND

He took out a pen and scrawled down his phone number on the table itself.
I… i gotta go. Change of plans.

He rose from his seat.
All of the water droplets slid off as ice from his windbreaker. The ice droplets settled on the floor noiselessly.

With that he was out into the hall and out into the rain.

The rain had worsened and was coming down in sheets like slate. The pounding curtains of rain washed over the windscreens of cars and a van parked outside.

Not bothering to even walk on the sidewalk he squelched down the middle of the road. Passing by the power lines on one side he checked his phone again. Rain pattering off the screen.

-No reply-

Carl felt a rising fear and thunder let out a low rumble. Turning the corner he assured himself hed made the right decision, putting his families safety first. Coming to the junction that was mainstreet he felt himself start to pound the ground with his feet.

Crossing the garden diagonally he saw his dads car out front.
Please please please let him be safe. Please god please!!

Fumbling for his keys in the rain he opened the front door, headed across the hall and through the secret door to the sound recording studio. The door opened with a hush on the carpeted floor to the secret den.

Nothing. Dark.

Rain dripping off his red windbreaker Carl could hear a small repeating noise coming from the corner.

Thum…

He walked over to where it was coming from… the record players disk was spinning, but it had long since finished playing…

Thum… thump… thump…

Carls eyes narrowed… and he lifted its arm off of the record thread…

“Dad…”

His finger twitched as he placed the needle back down on the thread. The speakers came to life.

“And what have i got?? Am i alive anyway… what have i got, that no-one can take away!!!”
He recognised it, nina simone. -one of his dads favourites

He stopped the recording.

There was a buzzing and a light lit up from his pocket.

Rapidly he flipped out his phone.

“Yeah-son, im alright, just had some motor trouble out on the side of the road. Everything alright with you… ?” It was grandpa Donald.

Within a few seconds Carl tried to focus his mind. He tried to reach out to sense his fathers heat-point. Carl expected a hand to slowly come to him with a finger, pointing his location. But what happened instead was breathing. Slow and regular.
Carl barrelled out of the room to the den. The door creaked open, slowly… the tv was on…. revealing the sleeping form of his father. Carl felt all the blood in his body hit his feet. Oh thank-god.

He just stood there, rain dripping onto the floor. Watching for several seconds. Just listening to his father sigh with sleep.

Thats it.
He was not letting this off the hook.

He took out his cellphone, the screen lit up.

tick-ti-tick-ti

“Yeah im fine…” he texted his grandpa again
then his mind poised on a thought…
“Ill be out back behind Graces-Grotto” … he mused at what hed just written…
It would only take a few more minutes for him to head back over there on his bike.
“Could you pick me up… when your trucks working again?”
SEND

Slowly closing the door to the den. Carl moved with quiet determination out to the side passage where his bike was.
Mounting the saddle he pushed off in the direction of Graces’ Grotto.

His mind sped through a few conclusions.
“Lets say that wasn't a hallucination… lets say that it wasn't brought on by heatstroke… which it wasnt… because he can detect his fathers breathing… we still gotta get to the bottom of this.

What is it Cahill had said? Time was a factor? And that other thing he said, did she seem like a bad actor, NO! Well... no... you didnt know... moveing onward there has to be a clear deliniation between things we think and things we know... but did Cahill say he can detect magnetic fields... what does that mean about my own ability, can i detect heat? And he said he causes the lights to fritz... is that like what happened to me with the refrigerator? Carl abandoned this line of questioning, the real burning question was what was putting his father and grandfather in danger... for a matter of fact... the men of the household... what could he do about it? WEAREWATCHING... yeah well now im watching... watching YOU!” He grunted.

He pulled his bicycle down the side street by Redstone Hardware. Dismounted and walked the bike out behind the dumpsters behind Graces’.

Pulling out his phone he tried to see if he had any contact requests. His phone showed just one.
He approved it and opened the text tab.
Pacing backwards and forwards not sure what to say he simply tapped out:

“Out behind Graces’ dumpsters. Backup?”

Morgan listened with rapt attention as everyone introduced themselves and as Cian explained things. He had a small napkin in front of him with a pen in his right hand. Jotting down little notes for himself and the occasional scribble as it helped him to focus.

When the dark-haired man began to talk about how long it had been since the Graces had vanished, Morgan immediately almost spoke aloud that it had indeed only been a week, but as he shifted in his seat the quiet rattle of the pill bottle stole his attention away from the conversation at hand.

A week?

No. No that wasn't possible. He has not taken any of his pills in at least three weeks. So why did his mind immediately want to shout out it had only been a week? As the gears in Morgan's mind spun, the lights in the ceiling began to flicker out their message. Something that easily flew over Morgan's head as he knew nothing about Morse code. He did note that it seemed to have a pattern to it but before he could ask just what was going on.

Everything and everyone vanished.

His blue eyes nearly bulged out of head when he noticed his dead mother and father standing before him. Slowly he reached forward, his hand grasping for his smiling mother when she vanished. As quickly as she had appeared. Morgan's lip quivered as his eyes darted towards his father and witnessed the smiling strong man that Morgan knew in his childhood slowly began to deterotiate into what he was now. Clutching that damned brown bottle like it was his only life line.

Morgan could see his fathers disdain in his eyes as slowly the man before him began to transform. His body morphing and shrinking into a larger then life persona of a football player wearing green jersey marked 25.

As the player barreled towards him like a train. Morgan could feel his spine. It was like It had caught on fire and his legs were becoming jelly but before the player crashed into him, he felt himself jolted.

Brought back to reality by a fleeing Carl who had bumped the table. Morgan glanced around. Many in the room still seemed out of it while Cian himself seemed bewildered by what he was looking at on the white board. Morgan recalled a story he had read about a demon that chose to attack those who grouped up against them. Trying to break them apart before they could be a threat. His eyes glanced towards the open door where Carl had left.

They had not even formed yet. If they fell apart now it would be over before it began. Ignoring the hectic writing Morgan gritted his teeth. Side effects huh? Would powers be a better word for it? Gripping his left hand so tightly he could feel his nails digging into his skin drawing blood.

Pain.

This was a good ground. If Morgan could become glue, he would be the bond. What better way to fight the dark then with sunshine after all? Outstreching his right hand he rised it into the air like someone grasping for the sun and focused as he felt the power that he had acquired from Grace began to travel to his open palm.

It started as a dim soft glow and as Morgan added more strength to it the light began to brighten. He could feel the darkness that still clung to the outskirts of his mind fleeing. The room began to be washed in light. It was a brightness that caused the dim fluorescent lights to bow their heads in shame.

He could feel it. That warm intoxicating bliss that ravaged his body, trying to overwhelm him. He assumed the others could feel it in a much more muted sense as they all began to stir but seemed eased in comparison to how they had been seconds before.

As the last person came out of the nightmare the red haired man closed his palm making the light dissipate as a silent sob escaped his lips as his head bowed towards the table, his mane of hair blocking his face. Tears ran down his face. His blue eyes could only barely be seen as he watched Cian talk.

“We aren’t alone,” Cian said. “That’s for goddamn sure.” He glanced back at the others. “’Cause there’s us. We got each other. And we’re watching now too.”

He uncapped the pen and wrote on the board again.

THE NEIGHBORHOOD WATCH

“We’ve got to get to the bottom of this. ‘Cause now I feel like it’s personal, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna sit here be mocked. We’re the Watch. We’ll figure out what’s behind all of this, if y’all will join me.” exclaimed Cian resolutely.

Morgan's voice rang out first in the stillness full of determination.

“I will be your light in the dark.”

Jacob heard it with the others before he fully realized what was happening. He took a few steps toward the person closest to him, which happened to be Serena. As he felt the full brunt of the attack, he put a hand on her shoulder, linking their minds in the process. He didn’t know if she was like him, but it was easy to assume she was.

You might need some support. I know I sure will, given how you all seem to be feeling.

The words would be clear in Serena’s mind, in the language she knew best. It was similar to how a walkie-talkie operates, they were attuned to each others thoughts, and knew what each other’s ambient emotions were. In Jacob’s case, it was a sense of worry and fear, which twisted savagely into pure terror as the memories of his earlier life flooded his mind, memories Jacob had tried for so long to suppress. He tried to hold onto Serena’s thoughts to anchor himself, but it was futile.



Jacob was curled up in a ball on the floor of the study room, still next to Serena. The memory of the pain still lingered like a stubborn phantom did to the place of its death. As he looked up at the others, his eyes seemed to be glowing slightly, a bright greenish-blue. Not enough to illuminate anything, but enough to be noticeable. Tears flowed freely from his eyes, rendering them a bloodshot red.

[color= #3aa5bd]I’m so sorry, Serena. I’m so, so sorry.[/color]

The others all looked to be going through something similar, and he didn’t hear anything coming from them, as his mind was still attuned to Serena’s. He was grateful for the fact that he wouldn’t be bombarded by their memories.

---

Serena was surprised to see quite the number of people in the group. At the very least, she was elated to learn she wasn't the only one worrying about the disappearance of Grace's Grotto. Still, she was worried about how most if not all of them, most particularly Cian, was taking this way more seriously than she expected.

Granted, she was just a newcomer here assuming that the rest of the group have been living in this town for their entire lives. Maybe the Grotto's owner was beloved by everyone? It was still a bit weird how only the 7 of them were the ones who remembered her and the cafe.

Serena listened as Cian and the others were discussing about its mysterious disappearance, until something about what Cian said caused her to chime in.

"Wait, a week? Wasn't it almost a month? Or perhaps, almost a month...?", she said, sounding more unsure by the minute. "I just know that I began getting this weird ability after drinking Grace's tea and... Oh God, I can't even remember how long I've had this ability." She looked at the others with fear and uncertainty in her eyes.

She then nodded in agreement about finding clues about the Grotto. "I'll go ask around as well. I think I remember a group of women in our faith group would often go there for coffee and Bible-reading. Maybe they can-"

The ceiling lights began to flicker, and Serena felt a chill in the air within the room. She could feel goosebumps on her arm and the hair on the back of her neck standing up. "Wh-What's happening..." She said in fear and confusion, feeling a sinking dread within her heart. She was approached by Jacob and was surprised she could hear his voice in her head speaking in Filipino. Was this an ability of his? She thought everyone of them had the same powers too.

"Ah!" She yelped as darkness enveloped the room. She looked around in panic, feeling herself being watched despite her being the only one in the void. She then saw a man, her father, standing before her with an absent look on his face and reflections of poker chips, cards, and alcohol running through his eyes like a silent movie.

"T-This can't be happening..." She said in disbelief as her father disappeared in a puff of smoke and left the unmistakable disgusting scent of cigarettes and booze. Something else replaced him in his stead too, something sinister, something diabolical, something unholy. Whatever it was, it was not God. It was... something else

Serena could feel tears forming along her eyes as she took a few slow steps back, still looking at the source of the malevolent energy. She heard the clinking of small rocks at her chest and remembered she was wearing a rosary necklace under her clothes. She took it off and wrapped it around her fist, then showed the cross to the presence.

"Y-Y-You have no power over me, demon!" She said, her fist shaking but she still held her ground. "I may be afraid but am an agent of God. I will not a-allow you to spread your wickedness on this realm for it is He who gives me strength! G-Go back to the place from whence you came! In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit... LEAVE AND NEVER RETURN!"

She yelled with all her might just in time as light washed away the darkness until everyone in the group returned in the same room in one piece. By the looks of it, all of them saw something traumatic from their past as tears ran down their cheeks.

As Carl left and Cian pointed out the danger they were in, Serena looked pitifully at Jacob. She still felt the fear and terror lingering in her mind from when they were connected. "Shhh, shhh..." She calmed him down and sat on her folded legs on the floor, lifting Jacob's head up with one hand. With her other hand wrapped in her rosary, she placed it on his chest while she began concentrating.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." A white halo formed around her head as soft white light began to cover Serena's hands. "Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." The soft light spread throughout Jacob's body, presumably calming him down slowly but surely. "For my yoke is easy... and my burden is light.” As she finished healing his mental turmoil, the light would slowly disappear from Serena and Jacob.

She would help get him back to his feet then looked at Cian and the others. "God guided me here for a reason. I'm with you guys through and through as I know God will always be with us. What do we need to do next?"

Cian's eyes scanned the room as, one by one, the others recuperated. They had all been in some kind of shared stupor, Cian included, and judging by their reactions, they had all seen something just as bone-chilling as he had. The lingering static in the air felt different now, charged with a shared trauma that seemed to bind them together in ways Cian couldn't have anticipated when he'd posted those flyers.

What struck him most was how the wave of emotional turmoil had triggered precisely what Cian had been hoping to discover. Morgan, glowing with a warm, radiant light that dispelled both the cold and the evil presence; Jacob's eyes illuminated with an ethereal greenish-blue glow; Serena surrounded by a gentle halo as she cared for Jacob with healing hands. What he witnessed confirmed that his flyers had indeed attracted people like himself, those with abilities that defied conventional explanation. The notion of such powers felt so otherworldly, and yet what they had all just experienced was equally extraordinary, to say the least.

The Neighborhood Watch. Cian had chosen that name without much deeper thought, really. It had simply tumbled from his lips in a moment of defiance against whatever force had invaded their meeting. The name embodied what he felt they needed to be: people looking out for the greater good of the community. To be on the watch... but for what, exactly? Not long ago, Cian would've just thought they'd be watching for clues about Grace's, or maybe investigating their strange abilities. But now it felt like something far more sinister was at play, something that definitely needed to be watched out for. Something that had been watching them first.

Carl had jumped up when he snapped out of his trance. He had immediately grabbed his phone, appeared to send some texts, and dashed out from the study room, leaving his contact info hastily scrawled into the study table itself. It was clear to Cian that Carl wasn't running from something, but toward something else, or someone. He wondered what vision Carl had seen that could've made him leave in such a panic. What Cian had seen was utterly perturbing, absolutely, but his father was already gone. Long gone…

The memory of his father's face in the void sent a sharp pang through Cian's chest. He pushed it aside, focusing on the present situation, on the people who were still here.

Cian pulled out his phone and entered Carl's number into his contacts. He gave the others the chance to do the same before licking his thumb and rubbing the ink off from the surface of the desk's polyurethane coating. He typed a quick message to Carl with just his name: Cian Cahill. That would be enough for now.

After Cian's initial proposal to band together, the others slowly expressed their verbal or silent assent. Morgan's determined voice rang out first: "I will be your light in the dark." Serena followed with her own pledge of commitment, invoking her faith: "God guided me here for a reason. I'm with you guys through and through as I know God will always be with us. What do we need to do next?"

Unknowingly, Cian smiled softly at Serena's conviction to her faith. Originally from the Bible Belt, Cian had met many devout followers of Christianity. He, however, had been raised in an atheist household, being the child of an analytical programmer and a scientist duo. Cian wondered how what had just happened could cause a crisis of faith for her. Ironically, Cian was feeling something similar, a crisis of science, being confronted with the inexplicable.

Cian watched while the others supported one another: Morgan filling the room with light and warmth that seemed to push back against the lingering chill, Jacob stepping toward Serena supportively, and Serena returning the favor in kind with her healing abilities. With his somewhat distant, maybe even slightly chilly demeanor, Cian began to feel a little self-conscious that he couldn't be as helpful or comforting in this moment, at least not with his strange bioelectric abilities. He was more comfortable with analysis than empathy.

"Before we do anything else," Cian said, taking a deep breath to steady himself, "I think we should check on Carl. Whatever he saw—whatever we all saw—it was personal. Targeted." He glanced down at his phone, hoping for a response. "And I don't think that was random. I think something is trying to split us up before we've even started."

He looked at the whiteboard again, at the word WATCH that remained after he'd erased the rest of the message.

"Morgan, Serena, Jacob—what you all just did with your... abilities. That was incredible." His voice softened slightly, betraying a hint of vulnerability beneath his composed exterior. "I'll admit. I was little suspicious at first, but now I think what we have—it was a gift Grace gave us. Tools to fight, maybe. And even if I'm wrong, I still think we should use them. Our abilities may give us the leg up we need to figure everything out."

His phone buzzed with a notification. A text from Carl: "Out behind Graces' dumpsters. Backup?"
Cian's eyebrows shot up as he read the message. He turned the phone screen toward the others.

"Looks like we've got our first mission as the Neighborhood Watch. Who's coming with me to Grace's? Carl seems to be there already."

The electromagnetic pulse of his heart quickened as he gathered his things, ready to head out. He took a moment to pause, though. To exercise some empathy.

"If we're all okay, that is. I don't know what else could happen from here. Come with me, if you're ready."

All who were ready made their way out of study room C, Cian leading them through the library's hushed, empty interior. Cian expected as much, yet was still surprised to see that no one outside the study room seemed to have noticed anything was amiss. Ms. Winters glared at them wordlessly on their way outside.

The late afternoon sun cast long, gloomy shadows through the building's windows as they pushed through the main doors into the open air. Outside, the earlier rain had subsided to a gentle mist that clung to their skin and clothes, leaving everything with a glossy sheen under the streetlights that had begun to flicker on.

"It's getting dark. The empty storefront’s about six blocks from here, so not far." Cian oriented himself as they stepped onto the sidewalk. His senses felt heightened after their shared experience, the bioelectric fields of his companions registering more clearly than before.

They walked in relative silence, each processing what they'd seen in their visions. Occasionally, Cian would glance at his phone, checking for any additional messages from Carl. Nothing more came through.

As they approached downtown, the familiar landscape of storefronts took on an unsettling quality in the fading light. Cian felt a distinct shift in the electromagnetic field as they neared where Grace's Grotto should have been—had been. It was a subtle distortion that he had not noticed before and which made the hair on his arms stand on end.

"And here it is—… was," he said, stopping in front of what was now clearly an empty storefront. The sight of it was so wrong. Main Street was filled with thriving small businesses. This storefront looked like it belonged in a long-forgotten ghost town. Abandoned long ago.

Standing there, the contrast between his memory and reality felt jarring. In his mind, he could still picture the warm glow of the café's lights, smell the rich aroma of coffee and tea, hear the gentle music that always seemed to be playing at just the right volume.

"It’s just impossible…" he muttered, more to himself than the others. "I was here just... well, whenever it was." He pressed a hand against the glass, trying to sense anything beyond. There was a strange emptiness to the building that didn't match what an empty storefront should feel like. It was too clean, too absent of residual energy.

"Carl said he was behind the place. Let's go around back." Cian led them down the narrow alley that ran alongside the building, past overflowing recycling bins from neighboring businesses and puddles reflecting the dim light from above. The electromagnetic distortion hummed lazily as they moved toward the rear of the building, buzzing in his teeth.

The back lot was mostly shadows, illuminated only by a single security light mounted high on an adjacent building. Two large dumpsters sat against the back wall of what had been Grace's Grotto, their metal surfaces slick with moisture. The smell of wet cardboard and rotting food mingled with the petrichor from the earlier rain.

"Carl?" Cian called out, his voice echoing slightly in the enclosed space. "We got your message."

He scanned the area, senses alert for any sign of their missing companion.

"Let's spread out a bit," he suggested to the others, keeping his voice low. "But don’t split up. Stay within sight of each other. Look for physical evidence. Cups, waste… Anything, really. Proof we’re not crazy."

---

Serena tried not to show it through her warm, comforting smiles, but she was still creeped out by the vision she saw. It's bad enough that her father clearly had no love nor did he care for her and her mom, but to think that a malevolent pressence was behind his addiction to his vices was making her sick to her stomach.

Seeing that demonic spirit was appalling. Whoever or whatever being that showed her that really knew how to make a lasting impact on someone like Serena, attacking her belief to question her own faith. If only it was possible to use her own powers on her, she wouldn't be feeling like this anymore. Still, she knew she had to be strong to face the challenges that might come their way.

She took in a deep breath and listened to Cian explain the plan. He said their powers were going to come in handy sometime soon, and Serena was dreading about having to use her powers again. Not because it was tiring, but because of the speculation that one or more of them might get hurt or worse. What they saw today was only the beginning. What kind of horrors were they going to witness next?

"Y-Yeah, I mean..." Serena cleared her throat and steadied her breathing. "I'm not expected 'til dinner time anyway, plus what we saw basically confirmed our suspicions that something wasn't right. Better to learn as much as we could now so we could end this sooner before anyone else gets hurt." She better explained.

She waited with the others before walking to the place where Grace's cafe was. Now that there was truly something wicked going on in their town, Serena was anxious as they walked. Every shadow looked like an opportunity for a demon to jump through and attack them. She even found herself looking back every few minutes because of the anxiety that someone, or something, was watching them.

'Oh God, please protect us...' She thought to herself, clutching her rosary as she prayed silently until they found their way to the place Grace's Grotto was supposedly. It's so eerie how something as big as a cafe and its owner would just suddenly disappear and leave no trace of it behind. She wondered if her stepfather and the others at the church could even describe the phenomenon happening to the Grotto, to the town, to Serena, and to others like her.

"Um... Okay..." Serena nervously said, anxiously looking at their surroundings before focusing on their task. "Is there a way for us to get inside? I think we can find more things there than out here. Maybe... Maybe Grace left us a clue inside?" She further said in a hopeful tone. She knew it was a longshot and impossible, but far more impossible things had happened. At this point, they could really use a miracle.