The Discord notification pinged as David finished his math homework, the sound a welcome interruption from polynomial equations. He clicked over to find his gaming group already deep in discussion about the recent string of disappearances in Millridge.

"I'm telling you, something weird is going on," Tony's message declared. "Three people vanishing in two weeks? That's not normal."

David adjusted his headset and clicked the voice chat icon. "Since when is anything normal in this town?"

"Fair point." Tony's familiar voice crackled through. "But seriously, did you see the news about Mrs. Calloway? Just disappeared from her morning jog. Left her car in the park lot and everything."

"Probably just wandered off the trail," Morgan Altura chimed in, his usual calm tone carrying a hint of concern. "People get lost in those woods all the time."

"Three people in two weeks don't just 'get lost,'" Tony insisted. "And what about those weird lights people keep seeing? My cousin swears she saw something in the sky over by the old textile mills last night."

"Your cousin also swears she saw Bigfoot in her backyard," David reminded him, though he couldn't quite shake the memory of that strange glint in the antique shop window. "It was probably just light reflecting off something."

"Maybe it's aliens," Jason added with an exaggerated spooky voice. "Come to abduct unsuspecting joggers for their sinister experiments."

"No, no, I've got it figured out," Morgan cut in, his voice carrying that particular tone that meant he was building up to something ridiculous. "They're sleeper agents. Foreign spies who've been living among us for years, and now they're being 'disappeared' because their home office called them back."

"Right," Tony jumped on the theory with enthusiasm. "Think about it -- Mrs. Calloway was always talking about her 'travels.' Convenient cover story for meeting her handlers!"

"And she did make suspiciously good borscht at the last bake sale," Jason added. "Very suspicious."

"You guys are idiots," David said, but he couldn't help grinning. "What about Mr. Peterson? He never left Millridge in his life."

"That's exactly what they want you to think," Morgan insisted. "Classic deep cover. He probably has a whole secret identity. Bet if you went to his house now, all his stuff would be gone except for some mysterious coded messages in Cyrillic."

"And that weird accent he claimed was from growing up in South Georgia?" Tony was fully committed now. "Actually from South Ossetia. Wake up, sheeple!"

"Their extraction signal was probably that light my cousin saw," Morgan continued, barely containing his laughter. "The Mother Country calling its children home through their neural implants."

"Neural implants powered by the mind-control crystals they've been secretly mining under the textile mills," Jason added. "It all makes perfect sense!"

"No, no, hear me out about the aliens though," Tony circled back, his voice taking on that familiar excited pitch he got when he was really invested in an idea. "What if they're not just random abductions? What if they're collecting specific people? Like, Mrs. Henderson was a biology teacher. Mr. Peterson worked in engineering before he retired. They're gathering experts! Building some kind of think tank!"

David found himself half-listening as he pulled up the Battle of the Ancients launcher, watching the progress bar tick up as the new patch downloaded. The familiar logo pulsed gently on his screen while Tony's alien theories continued in the background, Morgan's barely suppressed laughter punctuating each new revelation.

His mother's voice drifted up from downstairs, calling the family to dinner. "Got to go," he announced to the group. "Raid at nine?"

"Actually..." Tony's voice took on that particular tone that meant bad news. "I can't make it tonight. Family stuff. But hey, maybe you can test out the new Crystalline Warrior mechanics in some solo content?"

David's stomach tightened. Playing alone meant no one to blame but himself if things went wrong. "Yeah, maybe."

Dinner was its usual exercise in selective hearing, letting his parents' conversation wash over him while he pushed food around his plate. His father was going on about some old Studebaker he'd found for sale over in Grantville.

"Original fifty-three Commander Starliner," his father was saying, gesturing with his fork. "Beautiful lines on that car. Needs work, but the frame's solid. Guy's only asking eight grand."

"That's eight grand we don't have right now," his mother replied, though her tone was more amused than stern. "Especially with the roof needing repairs before winter."

"I know, I know," his father sighed. "The roof comes first. But once that's done..." He brightened. "That Studebaker would make a perfect project car. David could learn some real mechanical skills, right son? Better than sitting in front of that computer all day."

David looked up from his plate, realizing he was expected to respond. "Uh, yeah. Sure, Dad."

"Learn mechanical skills?" Janice smirked from across the table. "Dad, he couldn't even put together that bike rack without bending the support bars. I wouldn't trust him near a classic car."

"That's because the instructions were wrong," David muttered, pushing his peas around the plate.

"The pictures were right there," Janice said. "Even Tommy from next door knew which way the bars were supposed to go."

Their father cleared his throat. "The Studebaker would be different. Real engineering, not some mass-produced kit. Did you know they hand-assembled those engines? The attention to detail on the dashboard alone---"

"Here we go," their mother said, sharing an amused look with Janice. "Next he'll tell us about the chrome work."

"Well, actually, the chrome accents on the fifty-three model were quite revolutionary for their time---"

"Dad," Janice interrupted, "before you give us another classic car lecture, can we talk about the homecoming committee? Because Chelsea's mom volunteered to help, but she's trying to change all our decoration plans, and she won't listen to anyone because she used to be some kind of professional event planner, which was like twenty years ago, and now she's saying our color scheme is 'pedestrian' whatever that means..."

David tuned out as his sister launched into a complicated story about homecoming politics. Something about somebody's mom trying to take over, and some other girl threatening to quit, and how the whole thing was literally going to ruin everything. He caught his mother hiding a smile behind her water glass as Janice dramatically reenacted what must have been a tense committee meeting.

"---and then she had the nerve to say that galaxy theme was 'overdone,'" Janice finished, stabbing her fork into a potato for emphasis.

"A tragedy," their mother said solemnly, though her eyes were twinkling. "Now, David, help me with the dishes while your father researches more cars we can't afford."

"I'm just window shopping," their father protested, though he had already pulled out his phone, no doubt looking up more Studebaker facts.

David slumped in his chair while everyone else dispersed, his father's voice drifting back from the hallway as he detailed compression ratios to no one in particular. After a moment of prolonged procrastination, David reluctantly pushed himself up and trudged to the kitchen, where his mother handed him a dish towel with the practiced motion of someone who'd established this routine years ago.

"You've been quiet tonight," she said, passing him a plate to dry. "Everything okay at school?"

"Yeah, fine." He focused intently on drying the plate. "Just tired."

"Mhmm." She gave him that mom-look that said she wasn't buying it but wouldn't push. "Well, your father means well with the car thing. He just wants to spend time with you."

"I know." The guilt made him add, "Maybe it would be kind of cool. Learning about engines and stuff."

She smiled, handing him another plate. "That's the spirit. Though maybe we should start you on something simpler than a classic car. Like that bike rack."

"Mom!"

"I'm just saying, we could always pick up another kit. Or your father could help you cut some replacement bars at the hardware store."

"Mom..." David sighed, focusing too intently on drying a plate that was already dry.

She watched him for a moment, her expression softening. "You know, you can talk to me about stuff. Not just broken bike racks."

"I know." He shifted uncomfortably, reaching for another dish. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Hmm." She handed him a glass, their fingers briefly touching in the exchange. "Well, if there ever is, I'm pretty good at listening. Even to things that aren't about Studebakers or homecoming disasters."

David managed a small smile despite himself. "Thanks."

She squeezed his shoulder gently before turning back to the sink. "Maybe next time Tony comes over, you two could give that bike rack another try. I won't even tell Janice if you mess it up again."

"Gee, thanks," he replied, the sarcasm softened by the genuine appreciation in his eyes.

When the dishes were finally done, David escaped to his room, making sure to lock the door before settling into his gaming chair.

The new patch had finished downloading, and the character creation screen welcomed him with its familiar glow. The new Crystalline Warrior class icon sparkled temptingly. Maybe Tony was right -- some solo practice would help him get a feel for the mechanics before trying it in group content.

Hours slipped away as he experimented with different combinations, testing damage rotations on training dummies and running solo scenarios. The new systems were complex but oddly intuitive, each crystal configuration creating mathematical patterns of damage amplification that reminded him of the vector calculations from his physics class—something that actually made sense to him, unlike most of what they taught at school.

A text from Tony broke his focus: "Can't sleep. Want to meet up? Got something weird to show you."

David checked the time -- 11:47 PM. His parents would be asleep by now. He glanced at his character, still waiting for his next command.

"Where?" he typed back.

"Usual spot. By the park entrance."

David hesitated. The thought of another hour alone with his thoughts and his gameplay mistakes wasn't exactly appealing.

"Give me 15 mins."

Sneaking out was almost too easy. Years of practice had taught him exactly which floorboards creaked, how to time his steps between his father's snores. The autumn air hit him with an unexpected chill as he slipped out the back door, fallen leaves crunching softly under his feet.

The streets were empty at this hour, streetlights casting pools of yellow light at regular intervals. He stuck to the shadows out of habit, even though there was no one around to see him. The familiar path between the old mills felt different at night, the empty windows watching him pass like dark eyes.

Tony was already waiting at their usual meeting spot, his lanky frame perched on the low stone wall that marked the park entrance. An eager grin split his face as David approached.

"Dude, check this out." He held up his phone, displaying a grainy photo that looked like it had been taken through a window. "My cousin sent this to me like ten minutes ago. She says she saw it hovering over the textile mills."

David squinted at the image. A faint reddish glow hung in the darkness, its shape indistinct but somehow wrong. "Probably just light reflecting off clouds or something."

"That's what I thought at first, but look." Tony zoomed in on the image. "See how it kind of... moves? Like it's alive?"

A rustling in the bushes made them both jump. David's heart hammered against his ribs as he peered into the darkness. Probably just a raccoon. Or a cat. Or...

The reddish glow from the photo suddenly seemed much less theoretical as something flickered between the trees, casting strange shadows across the ground. Tony's hand gripped his arm with bruising force.

"David..." His friend's voice cracked. "Please tell me you see that too."

Before David could respond, there was a sharp crack from somewhere in the darkness, like a branch breaking. Tony's phone clattered to the ground, its screen briefly illuminating the leaves at their feet before going dark. The sudden darkness after staring at the phone's bright screen made the shadows between the trees seem deeper, more active. He didn't even register making the decision to run - suddenly he was just moving, Tony's footsteps pounding alongside him as they sprinted down Mason Street.

They didn't stop until they reached the well-lit intersection by Quick Mart, both gasping for breath. The familiar storefront, even closed and dark, provided an anchor of normality.

"What..." Tony wheezed, bent double with his hands on his knees. "What was that?"

"Probably just a raccoon or something," David managed, trying to convince himself as much as his friend. "Breaking branches, you know?"

"Yeah," Tony wheezed, but his voice wavered. "Lots of raccoons around here. Really big ones."

They stood there for a long moment, neither willing to voice the obvious fact that raccoons don't usually send two teenagers running in terror. Finally, Tony straightened up, adjusting his glasses with shaking hands.

"Maybe we should... go home."

"Yeah." David swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Probably a good idea."

They started down Mason Street together, neither wanting to be the first to split off. The occasional car passed them, headlights stretching their shadows long across the pavement before sweeping away into the night. Each time the approaching engine sound made them tense until the vehicle came into view - just normal people heading home from late shifts or midnight grocery runs.

The walk felt longer than usual. Their footsteps seemed too loud on the empty sidewalk, echoing off the downtown storefronts. A sedan cruised by, its driver giving them a curious look. Probably wondering what two teenagers were doing out this late. David shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to look casual.

They were almost to their split-off point at Oak Street when an old muscle car approached from behind, its engine rumbling. Just as it passed them, something in the engine caught or misfired - the resulting BANG! sent them both diving behind the nearest parked car. David's heart nearly burst out of his chest, and Tony let out a startled yelp that in any other situation would have been funny.

The muscle car continued on its way, completely oblivious to the minor heart attacks it had just caused. They slowly stood up from behind the parked car, trying to pretend they hadn't just taken cover from a backfiring engine like a couple of scared kids.

"So," Tony's voice was about an octave higher than usual. "That was... educational. Pretty sure I just aged a year and I definitely won't need caffeine for the next week. Who needs sleep anyway?"

"Yeah." David let out a short, shaky laugh despite himself. He brushed off his jeans, hoping Tony couldn't see his hands trembling in the dim streetlight. "Very funny. See you tomorrow? Assuming you don't die of caffeine withdrawal."

They parted ways at the corner, each casting frequent glances over their shoulders. The streets seemed darker now, the shadows deeper. Every rustle of leaves made David's heart skip, and the occasional passing car made him want to duck behind something until he could see what it was. By the time he made it home, his shirt was damp with cold sweat.

He lay in bed for a long time after that, staring at his ceiling in the darkness. The room felt different tonight—quieter, emptier, somehow more watchful. Every shadow seemed to shift when he wasn't looking directly at it, and the faint moonlight through his curtains cast patterns that his tired mind kept reshaping into that strange red glow from the park.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter!

Hope everyone enjoys this new series! I’m still working on everything else and soon to have new artwork from an artist on this one. I’m really enjoying writing about David and what’s going on in his life. There will be a lot more to come!

As well:

I’m putting my Discord Channel back up on permanent invite:

https://discord.gg/NYjPU3auVy(link is external)(link is external)(link is external)

Join Me and some other people to talk shop, discuss artwork, stories, chatter, or just share fun videos or memes!

If you want future chapters ahead of my posted works support me on Patreon!

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Also, feel free to PM me if you have any questions or wanna comment.

TTFN Everyone.

Janet Malcomb slipped through her bedroom window, landing with practiced silence on the soft carpet. Her muscles ached from the evening's training session, and sweat still dampened her auburn hair despite the cool night air. She rolled her shoulders, wincing as the motion aggravated a fresh bruise. Lucy Dempse had been particularly demanding today during practice, pushing everyone through rigorous drills until even the most experienced among them were struggling.

"We need to stay sharp," Lucy had said, her piercing blue eyes scanning their faces as they gathered around her. "Everyone needs to maintain their regular training schedules."

Janet had wanted to ask more questions, but Lucy's expression had made it clear that further discussion would have to wait.

She pulled her cell phone-sized Garnet gem from her pocket, feeling its familiar warmth against her palm. The connection was still new enough that sometimes it surprised her—this living presence, this ancient power that had chosen her. She stared at the deep red stone for a moment before tucking it back into her pocket. It had been a long day, and all she wanted now was a shower and sleep.

A burst of laughter from downstairs caught her attention. Danny's voice, followed by another she recognized as Tony Ttereve's. She frowned. Her parents were working evening shifts, leaving her responsible for the house.

Janet pulled on a clean sweatshirt to hide the training bruises and checked her reflection to make sure she looked normal. The last thing she needed was Danny asking more questions about her "track practices."

The living room was illuminated by the glow of the television, where Danny and Tony were sprawled across the couch amidst a landscape of soda cans and chip bags. Tony's feet were propped up on the coffee table in a way that would have made their mother scold him immediately.

"—swear it was glowing, right between the trees," Tony was saying, his hands gesturing animatedly. "Like this weird red light, but it wasn't constant, it was pulsing—almost like it was breathing."

"It was probably just someone's drone," Danny replied, though his expression betrayed his fascination. "People fly them at night sometimes to get those cool light trail photos. There was that guy on Cherry Street who was doing those time-lapse things last summer."

"Dude, I'm telling you, it wasn't a drone." Tony's voice had dropped to an urgent whisper, leaning closer to Danny. "It was... I don't know, alive somehow? And then there was this crack, like something breaking, and we both just ran. David was freaked too, and he's usually Mr. Logical-Explanation-For-Everything."

"So what were you guys even doing in the park that late?" Danny asked, reaching for another handful of chips.

"Just hanging out," Tony shrugged. "David wanted to talk about the new Battle of the Ancients update. No way is that Crystalline Warrior class a legitimate strategy though. They nerfed that build already."

"I'm telling you, it still works," Danny insisted. "Jason tried it yesterday and absolutely wrecked everyone in the tournament. Three matches, three wins."

"That's because Jason could win with any build," Tony countered. "He's been playing since beta. Remember when he won that match using nothing but common gear?"

"Hey guys," Janet said, making her presence known.

Both boys looked up, and Tony quickly removed his feet from the table.

"Janet!" Danny grinned. "Thought you were still at your study group. How was track practice earlier?"

"Exhausting," she said, deciding that was truthful enough. "Coach Williams is determined to shave seconds off our relay times. My legs feel like jelly." She settled into a nearby armchair. "What were you talking about? I heard something about lights in the park?"

Tony nodded eagerly. "Yeah, last night. Me and David saw this weird red light between the trees near the park entrance. It was moving in this really strange way."

"What do you mean by strange?" Janet asked, trying to sound merely curious.

"Like... not normal," Tony explained, gesturing with his hands. "It wasn't moving like anything mechanical. More like it was floating, but with purpose. And the way it glowed was weird too—pulsing, almost organic."

"Where exactly in the park was this?" Janet pressed.

"You know that entrance near the old pavilion?" Tony said. "Right around there. We were just hanging out, and suddenly this light appeared maybe fifty yards into the trees."

"He thinks it's aliens," Danny teased. "Or government experiments."

"I never said aliens," Tony protested. "I just said it was weird. David saw it too, and you know how skeptical he is about everything."

"So what happened after you saw it?" Janet asked.

Tony shrugged. "We watched it for maybe a minute, then there was this weird cracking sound from the trees. That's when we decided it was time to go. David tried to play it cool, but I could tell he was freaked out too."

"Sounds creepy," Janet admitted, then glanced at the game controller on the coffee table. "Anyway, what were you guys playing before I interrupted?"

"Battle of the Ancients," Danny answered. "Tony's trying to convince me his workout routine of eating Cheetos and pressing buttons really builds endurance."

"Hey, gaming requires serious reflexes," Tony protested, reaching for another handful of chips. "And strategic thinking. It's basically mental athletics."

Janet laughed, settling into a nearby armchair. "I'm sure Coach Williams would love to hear that theory. Maybe we should replace our workouts with Mario Kart tournaments."

"I'd dominate at that," Danny said confidently.

"Please," Tony scoffed. "You couldn't even beat Emma last time, and she'd never played before."

"That's because she kept using the blue shell! Who does that to their friends?"

Janet smiled, enjoying the normal teenage banter. This was the kind of conversation she missed—simple, uncomplicated, without the weight of responsibilities that now filled her days.

"Speaking of dominating," Tony said, turning to Janet, "your brother got absolutely destroyed in history class today. Mr. Whitley asked about the Civil War, and Danny here said—"

"Don't you dare," Danny interrupted, throwing a pillow at Tony.

"He said Sherman was just 'spicy camping,'" Tony finished, dodging the pillow. "Mr. Whitley's face turned so red I thought he was going to pop."

"It was a joke!" Danny protested. "And I knew the real answer, I just thought—"

"That's not even the best part," Tony continued, eyes gleaming with mischief. "When Mr. Whitley asked him to explain, Danny started talking about how marshmallows weren't invented until after the Civil War, so technically they couldn't have had proper s'mores during the campaign."

Janet burst out laughing. "Danny, what were you thinking?"

"I panicked!" Danny said, his face reddening. "I'd been up late playing Battle of the Ancients and didn't read the chapter. It was either that or admit I had no idea what he was talking about."

"And now you have detention tomorrow," Tony added cheerfully.

"Worth it though," Danny shrugged. "The class laughed, which is more than I can say for Nevin's boring correct answer about supply lines."

"Speaking of Battle of the Ancients," Tony said, changing subjects, "did you see they're adding that new Crystalline Warrior class? The mechanics look insane."

"Yeah, David was telling me about it," Danny replied. "He's already planning his build. Something about socket combinations and elemental alignments."

A loud crash from the kitchen interrupted their conversation. All three of them jumped.

"What was that?" Tony asked, sitting up straight.

Janet was already moving toward the kitchen. The room was dark except for the light above the stove. She flipped on the overhead light to see their mother's crystal vase shattered on the tile floor, water and flowers scattered across the kitchen. The family cat, Max, sat calmly on the windowsill, grooming himself with complete disinterest in the chaos he'd caused.

"Mom is going to be upset," Danny said, coming up behind her. "That was her anniversary vase. Dad got it for her last year."

Tony appeared in the doorway. "Whoa. Cat-astrophe."

"Really, Tony?" Danny groaned at the pun.

"Mom loved that vase," Janet sighed, surveying the damage. "It's completely destroyed."

Danny went to get the broom while Janet grabbed some paper towels to soak up the water. Tony knelt down to pick up some of the larger glass pieces.

"Careful, these edges are sharp," he warned, gingerly placing fragments in his palm.

"Danny, grab that trash can, would you?" Janet called, kneeling to mop up the expanding puddle.

Danny returned with the broom, dustpan, and kitchen trash can. "Do you think we can glue it back together?"

Janet surveyed the damage as she soaked up water. The vase hadn't just broken—it had practically shattered into dozens of pieces, some no bigger than confetti. "Not a chance. This is beyond repair."

"Maybe we could find a replacement?" Tony suggested, carefully depositing glass shards into the trash. "There's that antique shop downtown."

"On our allowance?" Danny scoffed, sweeping smaller fragments into a pile. "That vase was from some fancy glass place in Atlanta. Cost Dad like two hundred bucks."

Janet knelt to rescue the flowers, gathering the now-bedraggled bouquet. "We'll have to come clean. Maybe put these in another container for now."

"Here," Danny opened a cabinet and pulled out a tall glass pitcher. "Will this work?"

"Better than nothing," Janet said, arranging the flowers as best she could. The result looked significantly less elegant than the original arrangement, but at least the flowers weren't lying in a puddle on the floor.

As they worked together cleaning up the mess, the conversation drifted back to school and friends.

"So how's the college application process going?" Tony asked Janet as he helped Danny sweep up the last of the glass fragments. "You're applying to Georgia State, right?"

"Among others," Janet nodded. "I've got applications out to five schools, but Georgia State is probably my top choice. Their geology program is exactly what I'm looking for."

"Rocks," Danny teased. "My sister wants to spend her life studying rocks."

"Earth sciences," Janet corrected with mock seriousness. "And yes, rocks are actually fascinating when you understand what they can tell us about the world."

"If you say so," Danny shrugged, clearly unconvinced.

"What about you guys?" Janet asked. "Started thinking about colleges yet?"

"I'm thinking tech program," Tony said. "Maybe computer science or game design. Still a year to figure it out though."

"I'm planning to be a professional Battle of the Ancients player," Danny declared. "Make millions streaming my legendary gameplay."

"In your dreams," Tony laughed. "You can't even beat David consistently."

"That's because he exploits that cheap Pyromancer build," Danny protested. "Total button-masher strategy."

They finished cleaning up, making sure no glass shards remained on the floor where someone might step on them. When they returned to the living room, the conversation turned to weekend plans.

"There's that new sci-fi movie coming out Friday," Tony said. "The one with the space colony and the alien artifact. We should check it out."

"I'm in," Danny agreed. "David probably will be too. Janet, you want to come?"

Janet hesitated. She already had patrol scheduled for Friday night, but she didn't want to keep declining every social invitation. "Maybe. Let me check my schedule. Coach might be adding extra practices."

"All work and no play," Danny shook his head. "You used to be fun, you know."

"I'm still fun," Janet protested. "Just also responsible."

"Uh-huh," Danny looked skeptical.

When Tony finally left for the evening, Janet walked him to the door. "See you around, Tony. Try not to get my brother into too much trouble."

"Me? Never," Tony grinned. "He does that all on his own. Later, Janet."

After closing the door behind Tony, she found Danny in the kitchen, wiping down the counter where they'd missed some water.

"So how much trouble are we in about the vase?" he asked, tossing the dishcloth into the sink.

"I'll talk to Mom," Janet said. "Accidents happen. Though maybe we should consider keeping Max out of the kitchen."

"Good luck with that," Danny snorted. "That cat goes wherever he wants."

Janet smiled, but Danny's expression had turned more serious.

"Hey," he said, studying her face. "You okay? You've seemed... I don't know, different lately."

"Different how?" Janet asked carefully.

"Just... intense. Distant sometimes. Like you've got something major on your mind." Danny shrugged. "And don't say it's just college applications or track. It started before all that."

The accuracy of his observation was unsettling. "Senior year is a lot," she said finally. "Maybe I am taking things too seriously these days."

"Well, you should come to the movie," Danny said. "Take a break from being so responsible all the time."

"I'll try," Janet promised, meaning it despite knowing her Terranaut duties would likely prevent it.

After Danny went upstairs, Janet retreated to her room and pulled out her Garnet gem. The stone felt warm in her hand as she glanced at her door to make sure it was closed.

"Lucy, are you there?" she said quietly.

After a moment, Lucy's voice emerged from the gem. "I'm here, Janet. Everything okay?"

"I think so," Janet replied, keeping her voice low. "But I just heard something interesting from my brother and his friend. They were talking about strange lights they saw in the park last night."

"What kind of lights?" Lucy asked, her tone shifting to one of greater attention.

"A red light near the old pavilion entrance," Janet explained. "Tony described it as pulsing 'almost like it was breathing' and moving in ways that didn't seem mechanical. He said it was 'alive somehow' and 'floating with purpose.' The description was pretty detailed, and apparently David Lamb was with him and saw it too. They got spooked after hearing a cracking sound and ran off."

"Did they tell anyone else about this?" Lucy asked.

"Tony said they only told my brother so far," Janet replied. "I tried to ask casual questions without seeming too interested. They seemed to think it might be drones or something, but Tony wasn't convinced."

A brief silence followed before Lucy responded. "That's concerning. Any other details?"

"Not really," Janet admitted. "They were more focused on video games and movies than whatever they saw. I don't think they're taking it too seriously."

"Keep an eye on the situation," Lucy advised. "If they start asking more questions or looking into things, let me know immediately."

"Will do," Janet agreed. "Should I be worried?"

"Just cautious," Lucy replied. "It might be nothing, but we can't be too careful. Get some rest, Janet. We have training again tomorrow afternoon."

The gem's glow faded as the connection ended. Janet returned it to its hiding place and prepared for bed. As tired as she was, her mind kept returning to Danny's comment about her being different. He was more observant than she'd given him credit for, and that could become a problem if she wasn't careful.

But for tonight, at least, everything was normal. Her brother was safe upstairs, probably already back to playing his game. The vase was broken, but that was an ordinary household accident, not a sign of anything sinister. And if Tony and Danny had seen something unusual in the park, well... Millridge had always had its share of strange stories and urban legends.

Janet switched off her light and settled into bed, looking forward to a few hours of uninterrupted sleep before another day of balancing her two lives began.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter 03

I’m putting my Discord Channel back up on permanent invite:

https://discord.gg/NYjPU3auVy(link is external)(link is external)(link is external)

Join Me and some other people to talk shop, discuss artwork, stories, chatter, or just share fun videos or memes!

If you want future chapters ahead of my posted works support me on Patreon!

https://www.patreon.com/c/alyssnancyonymous(link is external)(link is external)(link is external)

Also, feel free to PM me if you have any questions or wanna comment.

TTFN Everyone.

The woodworking classroom smelled of sawdust and machine oil, a scent David had come to appreciate over the semester. Unlike other classes where he felt constantly out of place, here the expectations were clear: design, measure, cut, sand, finish. A project either worked or it didn't. No social navigation required.

Today they were working on their semester projects. David had chosen a simple bookshelf, nothing fancy but functional. Tony, at the workbench beside him, was attempting something more ambitious – a decorative box with inlaid patterns that was already looking more complicated than he'd anticipated.

"I think I'm in over my head," Tony muttered, staring at the half-assembled pieces. "Why didn't I just make a cutting board like Jason?"

"Because you said cutting boards were, and I quote, 'pedestrian wood rectangles for people with no imagination,'" David reminded him, carefully measuring his next cut.

"Past Tony was an idiot," Tony sighed, adjusting his safety goggles. "Present Tony would kill for a pedestrian wood rectangle right about now."
David smiled as he marked the line for his cut. He'd grown to enjoy woodworking class, the methodical process of turning raw materials into something useful. Here, at least, his tendency to get lost in details was an asset rather than a liability.

"Hey," Tony lowered his voice, leaning closer. "Did you tell anyone about what we saw the other night? By the park?"

David shook his head, focusing on his measurement. "No. Who would believe us anyway?"

"I told Danny Malcomb," Tony admitted. "But that's it."

David looked up from his work. "Why?"

"I don't know," Tony shrugged. "It was weird, right? Like, legitimately weird. I wanted to see if anyone else had seen something similar."

"And had they?"

"Not exactly, but–" Tony glanced around before continuing, "Janet—that's Danny's sister—she asked a lot of questions about it. Seemed really interested in the details."

"Probably just being polite," David said, turning back to his project.

"Maybe," Tony didn't sound convinced. "But you have to admit it was strange. That light wasn't normal, David."

"It was probably just someone with a drone or something," David murmured, though he didn't entirely believe it himself. The memory of that pulsing red glow still made the hair on his arms stand up.

Tony was about to respond when Nevin's voice cut through their conversation. "Careful with that saw, Ttereve. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself, since we all know how uncoordinated you are."

David looked up to see Nevin standing nearby, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. As usual, he somehow managed to make even shop clothes look expensive, his safety goggles pushed up on his perfectly styled hair.

"Thanks for the concern," Tony replied dryly, "but I think I can manage."

"You sure?" Nevin's smirk widened. "That box looks like it's one wrong cut away from becoming kindling. But I guess that's what happens when you try to work beyond your capabilities."

David kept his head down, measuring the same line twice to avoid getting involved. He could feel tension building as Nevin hovered nearby, making a show of examining Tony's project.

"At least I'm actually making something," Tony said, his voice tighter than usual. "What's your project again? A picture frame? Real ambitious."
Nevin's eyes narrowed slightly. "It's a hand-carved Brazilian Rosewood display case, actually. For my father's collection. Some of us have standards to maintain."

"Some of us have parents who can afford Brazilian Rosewood," Tony muttered, just loud enough to be heard.

Nevin's expression darkened. He reached over and casually nudged Tony's carefully arranged pieces, sending several small wood sections clattering to the floor. "Oops. Clumsy me."

Tony's face flushed red as he knelt to retrieve the scattered pieces. David felt something shift inside him – a sudden, unexpected surge of anger that pushed past his usual hesitation.

"That was deliberate," David said, the words coming out before he could stop them.

Nevin turned to him, eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "Well, look who found his voice. Got something to say, Lamb?"

David set down his pencil, suddenly very conscious of the eyes turning in their direction. "Just that knocking over someone's project is a pretty low move."

"It was an accident," Nevin said, his voice sharp with warning. "Maybe you need your eyes checked."

"Maybe you need to back off," David replied, surprised by his own steadiness.

"Oh? Is that your professional opinion?" Nevin's tone was dripping with condescension. "The guy who can barely stay awake in class is giving me advice now?"

"At least I don't need to mess with other people's work to feel important," David shot back.

Nevin's smile tightened. "You think I care about Ttereve's pathetic attempt at craftsmanship? Please. I could build that box in my sleep."

"Then why don't you?" Tony interjected. "Instead of the basic picture frame you're working on."

"Display case," Nevin corrected through gritted teeth. "And unlike you two, I actually have standards. Quality over quantity. But what would you know about quality? Your dad works at the hardware store, right, Lamb? Stocking shelves with cheap tools for weekend warriors?"

David felt heat rising in his face. "At least my dad works for a living instead of inheriting everything."

Nevin's eyes flashed dangerously. "Careful, Lamb. You're punching way above your weight class here."

David crossed his arms, adrenaline overriding his usual caution. "Maybe I'm just tired of watching you act like you own the place."

The workshop had grown quieter, students pausing their work to watch the confrontation. Nevin took a step closer to David, invading his personal space. "Or what, Lamb? What exactly do you think you're going to do?"

Before David could respond, Mr. Carver's voice boomed across the room. "Is there a problem over here, gentlemen?"

"No problem, Mr. Carver," Nevin stepped back, his expression instantly transforming into respectful attentiveness. "Just having a discussion about project designs."

Mr. Carver looked between them, clearly skeptical. "Well, take your discussion to your own workstations. We've got a guest speaker arriving any minute." He gave them one last warning look before heading to the front of the classroom.

Nevin moved away, but not before giving David a glare that promised this wasn't over. Tony stood up, his scattered pieces now back in his hands.

"Thanks," he said quietly to David. "But you didn't have to do that."

David shrugged, his heartbeat finally slowing. "He was being a jerk."

"Yeah, well, that's his default setting," Tony arranged his pieces back on the workbench. "But seriously, thanks. Not many people stand up to him."

David turned back to his bookshelf measurements, trying to refocus. The strange feeling of anger was receding, but it had left something unfamiliar in its place – a small, unexpected sense of satisfaction.

Mr. Carver cleared his throat at the front of the class. "Settle down, everyone. Today we have a special guest. Ms. Lockhart is a local artisan who specializes in traditional woodcarving. She's going to demonstrate some techniques that might help with your final projects."
 
 
A woman in her mid-twenties entered the classroom, wheeling an impressive multi-level tool case behind her. Her long hair was tied back in a practical ponytail, and she wore a simple flannel shirt with jeans. Despite her casual appearance, something about her commanded attention – a quiet confidence in the way she moved and surveyed the room.

"Thank you for having me," she said, positioning her professional-grade tool case beside the demonstration table. "I'm Heather Lockhart. I've been working with wood since I was about your age, and I'm excited to share some techniques with you today."

Mr. Carver gestured to the students. "Everyone bring your stools up to the demonstration table so you can get a good view."

There was a scraping of chair legs and shuffling of feet as students abandoned their workbenches to gather around. David and Tony managed to secure spots near the front, while Nevin smoothly maneuvered his way to a prime position directly across from the demonstration area.

Morgan Altura slouched against a nearby cabinet, trying to look disinterested but clearly paying attention. Francine Holderman sat with perfect posture on her stool, a small sketchbook ready in her hands. Jason took a spot in the back, tall enough to see over everyone's heads.
Ms. Lockhart began opening various compartments of her wheeled case, revealing specialized tools nestled in custom foam padding. The professional quality of her equipment made their classroom tools look like children's toys in comparison. With practiced efficiency, she laid out an array of carving knives, chisels, gouges, and other tools David couldn't even name, arranging them in a precise sequence on a leather tool roll.

As she methodically set up her workspace, David found himself oddly captivated. It wasn't just that she was attractive – though she was, in a natural, understated way – but something about her presence felt significant, though he couldn't have explained why.

"Today I'll be demonstrating some techniques using a decorative box design," Ms. Lockhart announced, pulling out a partially completed wooden box from her case. David heard Tony's sharp intake of breath beside him. The box was remarkably similar to what Tony had been attempting, but Heather's version seemed to exist in a different dimension of craftsmanship.

Where Tony's joints were slightly misaligned, hers fit together with seamless precision. The wood itself seemed to glow with a warm luster that came from expert finishing. Most striking were the intricate patterns adorning its sides – delicate geometric shapes that flowed organically across the surface.

"I understand some of you are working on similar projects," she said, her eyes briefly meeting Tony's. "This box design incorporates several fundamental techniques while allowing for creative expression."

She turned the box to display all sides. "The patterns I've carved here are inspired by local history. Millridge has a rich artistic tradition that goes back to its founding. These symbols here" – she traced her finger along intricate patterns carved into the wood – "are based on designs found in some of our oldest buildings."

David leaned forward slightly, his project forgotten. The symbols etched into the wood seemed to shimmer in the classroom's fluorescent lighting – geometric patterns that somehow suggested movement, with interlocking curves and angles that drew the eye in unexpected directions.

"The key to woodcarving isn't just technical skill," Ms. Lockhart explained, selecting a tool from her collection. "It's about understanding the material – working with the wood's natural grain rather than against it. Each piece has its own story to tell; our job is to listen and help reveal it."

As she began to demonstrate, David found himself interested in her technique. The way she handled her tools showed years of practice, each movement precise and deliberate. Her carving motions were fluid and confident, leaving delicate spiral patterns in the wooden box.

Tony nudged him. "Earth to David?" he whispered. "You're staring."

David blinked, realizing he'd been completely absorbed in the demonstration. He glanced around, relieved to see most of the class was similarly attentive. Even Nevin seemed interested, though he was trying to appear casually unimpressed.

As Ms. Lockhart continued, David's gaze returned to the patterns on her demonstration piece. One particular geometric arrangement near the center caught his attention – he'd seen something similar in his art history textbook, though he couldn't quite place it. There was something aesthetically pleasing about the proportions and symmetry.

When the demonstration ended, students returned to their projects with renewed enthusiasm. David, however, lingered at his workbench, still thinking about those intricate patterns. He barely noticed when Ms. Lockhart approached him.

"That's a nice bookshelf design," she said, startling him from his thoughts. "Practical but with good proportions."

"Oh – thanks," David replied, fumbling for words. "I was trying to keep it simple."

She nodded approvingly. "There's value in simplicity. Are you planning to add any decorative elements?"

"I hadn't really thought about it," David admitted.

Ms. Lockhart studied his design sketch. "You might consider a small border pattern here," she suggested, pointing to the top edge. "Nothing elaborate – just enough to give it character."

As she spoke, she pulled a small sketchbook from her pocket and quickly drew a simple geometric pattern of interconnected lines. It was much less complex than her demonstration piece, but elegant in its simplicity.

"Something like this could work," she said, tearing out the page and handing it to him. "It's a traditional pattern found in a lot of historic Millridge furniture."

"Thanks," David said, accepting the sketch and examining the design.

Ms. Lockhart gave him a polite nod, then moved on to the next student, leaving David with the sketch in his hand.

The bell rang far too soon, startling him back to awareness. Students began packing up their tools and securing their projects for the next class.

"What did she say to you?" Tony asked as they cleaned their workstation.

"Just some suggestions for my bookshelf," David replied, carefully folding the sketch and tucking it into his pocket.

"Lucky," Tony sighed. "She just told me I should probably scale back my ambitions and focus on getting the basics right first."

"Harsh but fair," David couldn't help grinning.

"Yeah, yeah," Tony rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Hey, want to grab something at Quick Mart after school? I need to fuel up before tonight's raid."

"Can't," David replied. "I've got work. Maybe after?"

"Works for me," Tony nodded. "I can meet you at Quick Mart when your shift ends. Text me."
 
 
As they left the classroom, David noticed Nevin watching him with narrowed eyes. The confrontation earlier had clearly left an impression, though David wasn't sure if that was a good thing. He'd never stood up to Nevin before, and while it had felt surprisingly good in the moment, he wondered if he'd just painted a target on his back.

Throughout his remaining classes, David found his thoughts occasionally drifting back to Ms. Lockhart's demonstration. By the time the final bell rang, he was already mentally preparing for his shift at the grocery store. He still had forty-five minutes to get there, but he wanted to stop at home first to change.

As David headed downtown, he passed by Jensen's Antiques again. The elderly owner was outside, carefully arranging a small display of vintage items in the window. Mr. Jensen looked up as David passed.

"Afternoon, young man," he called. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is," David replied, pausing briefly.

"You're Michael Lamb's boy, aren't you?" Mr. Jensen asked, shading his eyes against the sun.

"Yes sir." David was used to this in Millridge – being identified by his family connection rather than as an individual.

"Tell your father I still have that original gauge cluster and transmission linkage for a '52 Studebaker Commander. I know he was asking about the ’53, but this should work with to." The old man smiled, his face crinkling into well-worn lines. "Found them at an estate auction in Grantville last weekend. Gauges all intact, glass isn't cracked, and the transmission linkage is complete – hard to find those these days."

"I'll let him know," David promised, inwardly groaning. If his dad was already asking around town for specific parts like that, it meant the Studebaker purchase was practically a done deal. No doubt he'd soon be spending his weekends covered in grease, handing tools to his father while pretending to understand what a transmission linkage actually did.

"You working at Morgan's Grocery now?" Mr. Jensen asked.

"Yes sir, part-time."

"Good place to start. I worked there myself back when old man Morgan's father ran the place," the old man chuckled. "Long before your time, of course. Well, don't let me keep you."

David continued on his way, slightly surprised by the interaction. He rarely spoke to the older residents of Millridge, despite having lived there his whole life. There was something comforting about the continuity, though – the way stories and connections stretched through the town's history, binding people together across generations.

By the time he reached home to change for work, David had almost forgotten about the strange tension with Nevin. He had larger concerns – namely surviving another shift at the grocery store without dying of boredom or messing up the register again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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The cafeteria buzzed with its usual lunchtime chaos, a symphony of clattering trays, blended conversations, and the faint undertone of the kitchen staff calling orders. David navigated through the maze of tables, balancing his tray of questionable lasagna and apple juice as he spotted Tony waving from their usual corner table.

"So," Tony said as David slid into the seat across from him, "I was thinking about switching my main to a Shadow Ranger. The mobility is insane after the last patch, and the stealth mechanics actually work now."

David took a cautious bite of his lasagna before responding. "What about your Frost Mage? I thought you just got that legendary staff from the dungeon."

"Yeah, but everyone's running Frost Mage now," Tony sighed. "The meta is so boring. At least with Shadow Ranger, I can play my own style."

"Maybe I should switch too," David mused. "My Pyromancer build is feeling stale after that nerf."

"You could try Void Walker," Morgan suggested, appearing suddenly with his lunch tray. He set it down next to Tony and slid onto the bench. "Jason's been dominating with that since the last tournament. The crowd control is sick if you know the rotation."

"Too complicated," David shook his head. "I'd mess up the cooldown management for sure."

"Speaking of Jason," Tony nodded toward the lunch line, "he was telling me about this hybrid build using the Earth Shaper talents but with damage gems instead of the standard tank setup."

As they fell into their typical discussion of Battle of the Ancients strategies, David found his attention drifting to the far side of the cafeteria. Melissa Altura sat alone at a corner table, her dark clothes and heavy eyeliner standing out against the cafeteria's institutional beige walls. Unlike her usual routine of reading or doing homework while eating, today she just sat rigidly, food untouched, eyes scanning the room in slow, deliberate sweeps.

"Something's definitely up with your sister," David said, interrupting Tony's explanation of optimal gem socketing.

Morgan glanced over his shoulder and frowned. "Yeah, she's been acting off all week. Barely talks at home, stays in her room with the door locked. My parents think it's just normal teen angst, but..."

"That's not normal teen angst," Tony observed. "That's like, next-level brooding."

"She was weird at Quick Mart the other day too," David added. "Just standing in the energy drink aisle, completely zoned out. When I asked if she needed help, she looked at me like I was speaking another language."

"Maybe she's just stressed about college applications?" Tony suggested.

Morgan shook his head. "She finished those weeks ago. Early decision for all her schools." He watched his sister for another moment. "I tried talking to her last night, but she just said she needed space to figure some things out."

"Figure what out?" David asked.

"No idea," Morgan sighed. "And when I pushed, she just put her headphones on and ignored me."

The subject of Melissa faded as Tony launched into a detailed breakdown of the upcoming Battle of the Ancients tournament qualifiers, but David found himself occasionally glancing back at her table, unsettled by the methodical way she continued to survey the cafeteria.

The conversation had shifted to weekend gaming plans when a burst of laughter drew their attention to the center of the cafeteria. Nevin had arrived with his usual entourage, making their entrance with the practiced casualness of those who knew they commanded attention. Francine Holderman walked among them, her cascade of bouncy curls framing a face that made David's heart do an uncomfortable flip-flop. She wore a simple green sweater that somehow made her eyes seem more vibrant, and the silver pendant at her throat caught the fluorescent lighting in a way that momentarily mesmerized him.

"Earth to David?" Tony waved a hand in front of his face. "You're doing that spacing out thing again. I was asking if you wanted to run some practice matches tonight."

"Sorry," David tore his gaze away from Francine, who was now laughing at something one of Nevin's friends had said. "Yeah, sure. After my shift ends."

Nevin's group settled at their usual table—the best spot in the center of the room—and for a moment, Nevin's gaze locked onto David's. The brief eye contact carried the clear message that yesterday's confrontation in woodworking class hadn't been forgotten.

"Great," David muttered. "Just what I needed."

"Don't let him get to you," Morgan advised, following his line of sight. "He's all talk."

"Tell that to Seth Williams," Tony replied. "Remember what happened last year? He had to transfer schools."

"What happened with you guys anyway?" Morgan asked, turning to David. "I heard there was some kind of showdown in Carver's class."

Before David could respond, Tony jumped in. "David totally stood up to him! Nevin knocked over my project, and David called him out on it. You should have seen Nevin's face—he's so used to everyone backing down."

David felt his face warm at the exaggerated retelling. "It wasn't that dramatic. I just said it was a low move."

"Which, for you, is like the equivalent of a normal person challenging him to a duel," Morgan grinned. "The quiet ones are always the most shocking when they finally speak up."

David noticed that Nevin was now loudly holding court at his table, occasionally glancing in their direction. Though he couldn't hear the conversation, the scattered laughter following one of these glances made it clear who was being discussed. Francine sat at the edge of their group, seeming only half-engaged in whatever story Nevin was telling.

Unexpectedly, she stood up from Nevin's table and began making her way across the cafeteria. David quickly looked down at his food, hoping she hadn't caught him staring.

"Hey guys," Francine greeted as she reached their table. "Mind if I borrow you for a second?"

The three of them exchanged confused glances before Tony answered, "Uh, sure. What's up?"

"I wanted to let you know about the town meeting tomorrow night," she explained. "It's about recent community concerns—you know, those weird disappearances that happened in the past few weeks. They're holding it at the high school auditorium at seven."

"Is that really necessary?" Morgan asked. "I mean, I know about Mrs. Calloway, Mr. Peterson, and that college student, but has something else happened?"

"There might be a fourth person missing now," Francine replied. "My dad heard something about it from Sheriff Thompson. They're hoping to organize some kind of community watch program. I'm trying to get as many students as possible to come. Numbers matter when it comes to getting the town council to take action."

"I don't know," Tony shrugged. "My parents probably wouldn't want me joining a search party or anything."

"It's not about joining search parties," Francine said. "It's about showing community support. Plus, information sharing might help connect some dots." She glanced at David. "The more people know what to look out for, the safer everyone is."

David's mind flashed briefly to the strange red glow he and Tony had seen in the park, but he kept quiet.

"Anyway," Francine continued, "I hope you guys can make it. I've been asking everyone." She offered a smile that seemed to linger a moment longer on David. "See you around."

As she walked away, Tony let out a low whistle. "Dude, she was totally checking you out."

"What? No, she wasn't," David protested, though his heart had picked up speed. "She's just trying to get people to go to that meeting. She asked like three other tables before us."

"If you say so," Tony smirked. "But she definitely gave you the look."

"There was no look," David insisted, though he couldn't help glancing back at Francine, who had moved on to another table.

"Anyway," Morgan said, mercifully changing the subject, "are you guys coming to the tournament watch party at Jason's on Saturday? His parents got that massive new TV, and he's streaming the finals on it."

The conversation shifted back to safer territory as they discussed weekend plans, but David found his attention repeatedly drifting to Francine as she made her rounds through the cafeteria. There was something efficient and purposeful about the way she moved from table to table, briefly engaging with each group before moving on. It was almost like she was campaigning.

The lunch period continued, and David noticed that Melissa had begun slowly circling the cafeteria, moving from one vantage point to another. She would stop at each position, scan the room, then move on to the next spot. The behavior seemed so calculated that David found himself tracking the pattern, trying to figure out what she might be looking for.

"Your sister's doing that weird surveillance thing again," Tony said to Morgan, having noticed David's distraction.

Morgan sighed deeply. "Yeah. My mom found her doing the same thing at the mall last weekend. Standing at different points, just watching people. When we asked what she was doing, she said she was 'gathering impressions for an art project.' But she hasn't drawn or painted anything in months."

"Could she be, like, scoping out someone she likes?" Tony suggested.

"Melissa?" Morgan snorted. "She thinks everyone at this school is, and I quote, 'a shallow conformist incapable of meaningful thought.' Not exactly looking for a prom date."

David watched as Melissa completed another careful scan of the room before finding a new position. "It's like she's searching for something specific," he observed.

A burst of laughter from Nevin's table interrupted them. Nevin was standing now, doing what appeared to be an impression—shoulders hunched, expression vacant in a way that made David's stomach sink as he recognized the target.

"Look at me, I'm David Lamb," Nevin mimicked in a dopey voice. "I spend all day staring into space and drooling on my textbooks. Oh no, the teacher asked me a question! Uhhh... he burned stuff?"

The table erupted in laughter, several students from nearby tables turning to watch the performance. David felt his face burning as he stared down at his tray, wishing he could disappear through the floor. To his surprise, he noticed Francine wasn't laughing. Instead, she was giving Nevin a look of clear disapproval before turning away to continue her rounds.

"Just ignore him," Morgan advised. "He's just trying to save face after you stood up to him yesterday."

"Doesn't make it any less humiliating," David muttered.

"Want to get out of here?" Tony suggested. "We've still got twenty minutes before next period. We could hang out by the quad."

David nodded, grateful for the escape option. They gathered their trays and headed for the exit, David keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead as they passed near Nevin's table.

"Leaving so soon, Lamb?" Nevin called out. "Did I hurt your feelings?"

David kept walking, pretending he hadn't heard. They deposited their trays at the collection area and pushed through the cafeteria doors into the relatively peaceful hallway.

"What a jerk," Tony said once they were safely outside. "He's just mad because you called him out in front of everyone yesterday."

"Yeah, well, now I'm on his radar," David sighed. "Just what I needed."

They found a quiet spot in the quad, settling onto one of the benches beneath the large oak trees. The autumn air was crisp and refreshing after the stuffy cafeteria.

"So," Tony said, clearly trying to move past the cafeteria incident, "about that town meeting tomorrow night—you think you can make it?"

David shrugged. "I've got work after school, but I might be able to swing by after my shift if it runs late enough. My parents will probably want to go anyway."

"I should check with my parents," Morgan said. "They might want to go too, especially with everything that's happened."

"So what's the deal with you and Francine?" Tony asked abruptly, giving David a pointed look. "She definitely singled you out back there."

"What? No, she didn't." David tried to sound casual. "She was talking to all of us."

"Yeah, but she was looking at you," Tony insisted. "And don't think I haven't noticed you staring at her in history class."

"I don't stare," David protested weakly.

"Dude, you practically have a permanent neck cramp from turning to look at her," Morgan laughed. "It's been obvious since like, freshman year."

David felt his face growing warm. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to everyone with eyes," Tony grinned. "Why don't you just ask her out?"

"Right, because that would go so well," David rolled his eyes. "She's Francine Holderman. She's friends with Nevin's crowd, she's in like five different clubs, and she's way out of my league."

"You never know until you try," Morgan shrugged. "Maybe at that town meeting tomorrow. It would be neutral territory."

David considered this. The town meeting did present an opportunity—a legitimate reason to approach her outside of school. And if she rejected him, at least it wouldn't be in front of the entire student body.

"Maybe," he said noncommittally. "If I can make it after work."

The warning bell rang, signaling they had five minutes to get to their next classes. As they gathered their belongings, David found himself thinking about Francine's invitation to the town meeting, wondering if there had been any special significance to the way she had looked at him.

"See you guys later," he said as they parted ways in the hallway. "I've got Physics."

"Try to stay awake this time," Tony called after him with a grin.

Physics was normally one of David's most challenging classes—not because the material was particularly difficult, but because it fell right after lunch when his energy was at its lowest. Today, however, his mind was unusually active, filled with thoughts of Francine and the possibility of seeing her at the town meeting.

He slid into his seat near the back of the classroom just as the final bell rang. Mrs. Grayson, a former aerospace engineer with prematurely gray hair and an enthusiasm for Newtonian mechanics that few students shared, was already setting up a demonstration with a pendulum at the front of the room.

"Today we'll be studying conservation of angular momentum," Mrs. Grayson announced, giving the pendulum a gentle push. "Can anyone tell me what will happen if I change the mass distribution on this pendulum while it's in motion?"

David dutifully opened his notebook, but his mind immediately began to wander. What if he did ask Francine to hang out at the town meeting? The worst she could say was no, right? But then again, she was popular, involved in a dozen school activities, and usually hung out with Nevin's crowd. Why would she be interested in someone like him?

But then he remembered the way she had looked at him in the cafeteria, how she hadn't laughed at Nevin's impression. Maybe there was a chance. A small one, but still.

He mentally rehearsed potential approaches. "Hey, Francine, want to grab coffee after the meeting?" No, too direct. "I was thinking of getting some food after this, want to join?" Better, but still too obvious. "A bunch of us are hanging out after, you should come." That might work—casual, no pressure, an easy out if she wasn't interested.

He imagined her response—maybe a smile, maybe even a yes. They could talk about normal things, not Battle of the Ancients or the weird stuff happening in town. Just two people getting to know each other better. The thought made his heart beat a little faster.

"Mr. Lamb?"

David snapped back to awareness, suddenly realizing that Mrs. Grayson was standing directly in front of his desk, along with the expectant stares of twenty-eight classmates.

"I'm sorry, what?" David managed, his ears burning.

"I asked," Mrs. Grayson repeated with the weariness of a teacher who had dealt with countless daydreaming teenagers, "if you could explain what happens to a rotating object's angular velocity when its radius changes."

David's mind raced, frantically searching for anything he remembered from the assigned reading. "Uh... it... changes?"

A few snickers rippled through the classroom. Owen Keating, who sat two rows over, made a spinning motion with his finger next to his temple, mouthing "space cadet" to his lab partner.

Mrs. Grayson's expression was a mix of disappointment and resignation. "Yes, Mr. Lamb, it does indeed 'change.' Perhaps you could be a bit more specific about how it changes?"

David stared blankly at the pendulum demonstration, trying to remember anything from last night's reading. "It... goes faster? When the radius gets smaller?"

"That's the beginning of a correct answer," Mrs. Grayson said, though her tone suggested she knew it was more of a lucky guess than actual understanding. "When a rotating object's radius decreases, its angular velocity increases to conserve angular momentum. This is why figure skaters spin faster when they pull their arms in."

She demonstrated by pulling the weights on the pendulum closer to the center, causing it to swing noticeably faster.

"The mathematical relationship," she continued, turning to the whiteboard, "is expressed as L = I × ω, where L is angular momentum, I is moment of inertia, and ω is angular velocity. When moment of inertia decreases due to mass moving closer to the axis of rotation, angular velocity must increase proportionally to maintain the same angular momentum."

As she wrote a series of equations on the board, David slumped in his seat, the fantasy of successfully asking out Francine Holderman temporarily replaced by the familiar sting of classroom humiliation.

"For tomorrow," Mrs. Grayson announced, "I expect everyone to complete problems twelve through twenty-seven in chapter eight. And Mr. Lamb," she added, giving him a pointed look, "perhaps you could give those problems your undivided attention?"

"Yes, ma'am," David mumbled, feeling his face grow even hotter.

Zack Pullman, the soccer team's goalie who sat in front of David, turned around with a smirk. "Smooth, Lamb. Real smooth."

Fortunately, Mrs. Grayson redirected the class's attention to a video demonstration of conservation of angular momentum, giving David a brief reprieve from his embarrassment. As the lights dimmed for the video, his thoughts inevitably drifted back to Francine and the town meeting.

His shift at the grocery store ended at seven-thirty tomorrow, which meant he'd miss the beginning of the meeting but could still make it for most of it. If his parents were going, maybe he could convince them to pick him up from work on their way.

It wasn't much of a plan, but it was better than nothing. And maybe, just maybe, Francine would be pleased to see him there. The possibility made even Mrs. Grayson's upcoming test seem less daunting.

The rest of Physics passed in a blur of equations and rotating objects that David barely registered. When the bell finally rang, he gathered his unused notebook and headed for his next class, already rehearsing what he might say to Francine at the town meeting—assuming he could find the courage to say anything at all.

David sprinted toward the crosswalk, glancing at his watch with growing panic. He was cutting it close—ten minutes until his shift started at Morgan's Grocery. Mr. Morgan wasn't exactly known for his flexibility when it came to tardiness.

Distracted by thoughts of the upcoming town meeting and whether he'd have the courage to approach Francine there, David didn't notice the car until its horn blared. He froze mid-stride, heart lurching as a sedan screeched to a halt inches from where he stood.

An elderly woman with a tight silver perm peered at him through the windshield, her expression unreadable. For several uncomfortable seconds, she simply stared at him, eyes narrowing slightly as if she were trying to place him in her memory. There was something unsettling about her gaze—too focused, too intense—that made the hair on the back of his neck rise.

David raised a hand in awkward apology and backed onto the curb. The woman continued to stare for another long moment before driving away, her car moving with deliberate slowness.

"Nice going, space cadet," he muttered to himself, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart. The near-miss had left his legs feeling wobbly. Getting hit by a car was not the kind of excitement he needed today.

He managed to clock in with exactly two minutes to spare, earning a raised eyebrow from Mr. Morgan as he hurriedly tied his apron.

"Cutting it close, Lamb," Mr. Morgan commented, his voice dry. "I was about to call your replacement."

"Sorry, sir," David replied, straightening his nametag. "It won't happen again."

"Mmm-hmm." Mr. Morgan handed him a pricing gun. "Aisle four needs restocking. And when you're done with that, Carol called in sick so you'll be on register three."

David suppressed a groan. Register duty was his least favorite part of the job—the combination of mental math under pressure and forced customer interaction was his personal idea of hell. But he just nodded, taking the pricing gun without complaint.

The afternoon crawled by as David methodically worked through his tasks. Restocking shelves at least gave him time to think, his hands finding a rhythm as he arranged cans and checked inventory. The repetitive nature of the work allowed his mind to wander, primarily to the upcoming town meeting and the possibility of seeing Francine there.

His mundane routine was interrupted when he spotted a familiar face at the end of the aisle—Chad Markinson, one of Nevin's core group of friends. Chad was a basketball player, tall and broad-shouldered, whose primary personality trait seemed to be laughing too loudly at Nevin's jokes. Today he was wearing his Millridge Eagles varsity jacket despite the mild weather, a not-so-subtle reminder of his athletic status.

David ducked his head, pretending to be deeply absorbed in arranging soup cans, hoping Chad wouldn't notice him. No such luck.

"Well, if it isn't the space cadet," Chad called loudly enough for other customers to turn and look. "Arranging those cans alphabetically, or just trying to remember what they're called?"

David's shoulders tensed. "Can I help you find something?" he asked, his employee script overriding his desire to disappear.

"Nah, I'm good." Chad smirked, grabbing a bag of chips from a nearby display. "Just picking up some stuff for the game tonight. A bunch of us are heading to Nevin's to watch the tournament." He paused, his smile turning smug. "But I guess you wouldn't know about that, would you?"

"I have work," David replied stiffly, turning back to his shelving.

"Right. Work." Chad's tone made the word sound pathetic. "Well, have fun with your... soup."

David kept his eyes fixed on the shelf, methodically continuing his task until Chad moved on. It was a small interaction, but it left him feeling worse than he'd expected. Being excluded wasn't new, but having it thrown in his face still stung.

By the time his break rolled around, David had mostly pushed the encounter from his mind. He sat in the employee break room, unwrapping a sandwich he'd brought from home and scrolling through Battle of the Ancients patch notes on his phone. The small room was empty except for him, the ancient refrigerator humming loudly in the corner.

His brief respite ended too quickly, and soon he found himself stationed at register three, scanning items and making small talk with customers. He had just finished ringing up Mrs. Calloway's weekly groceries when he spotted them—Nevin's parents, with a cart piled high with party supplies. Behind them trailed Nevin's younger brother Derek, looking bored and playing some game on his phone.

David's stomach tightened. If Nevin's parents were shopping here, there was a good chance Nevin himself might appear. But as they approached his register, David realized he had no choice but to serve them.

"Good afternoon," he said mechanically as they began unloading their cart. "Did you find everything you were looking for?"

"We did, thank you," Mrs. Nevage replied politely, barely glancing at him as she arranged items on the conveyor belt. She was a tall, elegant woman dressed in clothes that probably cost more than David made in a month. Mr. Nevage, immaculately dressed in a casual but clearly expensive ensemble, was focused on his phone, fingers tapping out what looked like an email.

David scanned their items in silence: imported chocolates, specialty cheeses, organic fruits, and an assortment of gourmet beverages that seemed completely disconnected from a teenage gaming party. The total kept climbing with each scan.

"Paper or plastic?" David asked when he'd finally finished scanning everything.

"Paper, please," Mrs. Nevage replied. "And do be careful with those cheeses. They're from a specialty shop in Atlanta."

"Yes, ma'am," David said, carefully bagging the items.

As he worked, Derek glanced up from his phone, eyeing David's nametag. "Hey, you're that guy Nevin was talking about. From woodworking class."

David froze momentarily, then continued bagging. "That'll be $172.68," he said to Mrs. Nevage, ignoring the comment.

Mr. Nevage finally looked up from his phone, handing over a sleek black credit card without really looking at David. "Derek, go get the car started," he said, tossing keys to his younger son.

Derek caught them one-handed but lingered. "But this is the guy—"

"Now, please," Mrs. Nevage cut in, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Derek rolled his eyes but complied, shuffling out of the store. Mr. Nevage returned to his phone while Mrs. Nevage watched David finish bagging their groceries.

"You're Michael Lamb's son, aren't you?" she asked suddenly.

David looked up, surprised. "Yes, ma'am."

"I thought so. I can see the resemblance." She studied him for a moment. "Your father restored an antique cabinet for us a few years ago. Beautiful work."

"Thank you," David replied, unsure what else to say. He vaguely remembered his father spending weekends on a restoration project for a "fancy client" — his dad's primary passion was classic cars, but his skill with woodworking had led to occasional side projects for extra income, especially when he was saving up for car parts.

Mrs. Nevage seemed about to say something else when Mr. Nevage cleared his throat impatiently. "We should get going, dear. The caterers will be arriving soon for Nevin's tournament gathering."

Caterers. For a high school game night. And they were still buying nearly two hundred dollars' worth of gourmet food. David handed over the receipt, trying to keep his expression neutral.

"Thank you," Mrs. Nevage said with a polite nod, gathering her bags. "Do tell your father I said hello."

David watched them leave, feeling oddly unsettled. The interaction had been cordial enough, but something about it left him feeling diminished, as though he'd been briefly examined and then dismissed as unimportant.

The rest of his shift passed uneventfully. By closing time, David was exhausted from the constant interaction and eager to get home. As he clocked out, Mr. Morgan approached him.

"Not bad today, Lamb," he said, which was about as close to a compliment as the manager ever got. "You kept the line moving even during the rush. That's what I like to see."

"Thanks, Mr. Morgan," David replied, slightly surprised by the positive feedback.

"Your till balanced too," Mr. Morgan continued. "Keep it up. Maybe I'll put you on register more often."

David forced a smile while internally groaning. "Great. Looking forward to it."

Outside, the evening air had turned chilly. David zipped up his jacket and started the walk home, his mind already drifting to the weekend ahead. He'd have to start his Physics homework tonight if he wanted to make it to the town meeting tomorrow. Maybe he could text Tony afterward to run some practice matches in Battle of the Ancients, assuming Tony wasn't still at Nevin's party.

The town seemed quieter than usual, with fewer people out and about. David supposed the recent disappearances had made everyone more cautious. He found himself walking a little faster, sticking to well-lit streets and avoiding the shortcuts through the park that he might normally take.

Halfway home, he noticed a familiar figure walking ahead of him—Morgan Altura, his hood pulled up against the evening chill. David quickened his pace to catch up.

"Hey, Morgan," he called.

Morgan turned, looking startled until he recognized David. "Oh, hey. Getting off work?"

"Yeah, just finished. You heading home?"

Morgan nodded, falling into step beside him. "I was at the library, trying to finish that history essay. The one on industrial development in the South."

"Right," David grimaced. "I haven't even started that yet."

"It's not due until next week," Morgan shrugged. "But I wanted to get it done before the weekend."

They walked in comfortable silence for a moment before David spoke again. "Have you seen Melissa lately? Is she still acting weird?"

Morgan's expression darkened. "Yeah. She didn't come home last night until like, two in the morning. My parents were freaking out, calling her friends, the whole deal. Then she just walked in like nothing was wrong, said she'd been 'exploring' and went straight to her room."

"Exploring what?"

"She wouldn't say." Morgan kicked at a stone on the sidewalk. "My dad tried to ground her, but she just laughed this really weird laugh and said 'temporal limitations are meaningless in the great design.' Whatever that means."

"That's... concerning," David said, unsure how to respond to such bizarre behavior.

"Tell me about it." Morgan sighed. "My parents think she might be on something. They're talking about drug testing her, maybe therapy. But she's eighteen, so they can't really force her to do anything."

They turned onto Oak Street, where the historic homes were set farther back from the road, large trees casting long shadows in the fading light.

"You still planning to come to the town meeting tomorrow?" David asked.

"Probably. My parents are definitely going. They're pretty freaked out about all these disappearances." Morgan glanced at him. "You going to talk to Francine there?"

David felt his face warm. "Maybe. If I can think of something to say that doesn't make me sound like a complete idiot."

"Just be yourself," Morgan suggested.

"That's what I'm afraid of," David replied with a half-smile.

They reached the corner where their paths diverged, Morgan heading toward the newer subdivision while David continued toward his family's older neighborhood.

"See you tomorrow, then," Morgan said. "Text me when you get to the meeting?"

"Will do."

As David walked the remaining blocks home, he found himself thinking about Melissa's strange behavior and the weird car incident earlier. The town felt different lately—tenser, somehow. Even familiar streets seemed to hold new shadows, and normal interactions carried undertones he couldn't quite interpret.

He was relieved when he finally reached his house, warm light spilling from the windows. Inside, the familiar sounds of his family going about their evening routines welcomed him. His father was in the living room, flipping through a car magazine while the news played quietly on the television. His mother was in the kitchen, the smell of something baking filling the air.

"There he is," his father called as David hung up his jacket. "How was work, son?"

"Fine," David replied automatically. "Pretty normal day."

His mother appeared in the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "There's lasagna in the oven if you're hungry. Should be ready in about twenty minutes."

"Thanks, Mom."

"Oh, and David? Ms. Reynolds called from school today. She said you haven't turned in your college application essay yet. The deadline's coming up."

David suppressed a groan. He'd been avoiding the essay for weeks. How was he supposed to write five hundred words about his life goals when he barely knew what he was doing next weekend?

"I'm working on it," he said. "It's just... not quite right yet."

His mother gave him a look that said she wasn't fooled. "Well, work on it harder. Those applications won't submit themselves."

"I know, I know. I'll finish it this weekend, promise."

"Good." She softened slightly. "And honey? Try to get some sleep tonight. You look exhausted."

David nodded and headed upstairs to his room, dropping his backpack on the floor and collapsing into his desk chair. He spun slowly, taking in the familiar surroundings—gaming posters on the walls, a bookshelf stuffed with fantasy novels he'd read in middle school, his computer setup dominating one corner of the room.

The comfortable familiarity of his bedroom should have been reassuring, but tonight it felt almost confining. Like everything else in his life, it represented a version of himself he wasn't sure he wanted to be anymore—the shy gamer kid who faded into the background, who panicked at the thought of talking to a girl, who never quite fit in anywhere.

Maybe the town meeting would be different. Maybe he could find the courage to step outside his comfort zone, to talk to Francine, to be someone other than "space cadet" David Lamb for once.

He turned to his computer and powered it up, opening a blank document for his college essay. The cursor blinked at him accusingly as he stared at the empty page.

Five hundred words about your life goals and aspirations.

David sighed and began to type. My name is David Lamb, and I...

He stopped, deleted the sentence, and tried again. For as long as I can remember, I've been interested in...

Delete.

My future plans include...

Delete.

After twenty minutes of false starts, David had produced exactly three sentences he didn't immediately hate. The smell of lasagna wafting up from the kitchen provided a welcome excuse to take a break. He saved the meager progress and headed downstairs, his stomach rumbling.

Dinner was its usual mixture of family updates and gentle interrogation. Janice dominated the conversation with details about homecoming preparations while their father occasionally interjected with questions about David's day. David kept his answers vague, avoiding any mention of his near-accident or the encounter with Nevin's family.

"There's a town meeting tomorrow night," his mother mentioned as she served second helpings. "About those disappearances. I think we should go."

"Absolutely," his father agreed. "The whole town needs to come together on this. Safety in numbers."

"My shift ends at seven-thirty," David said, trying to sound casual. "Could you pick me up on the way? I'd like to go too."

His mother looked pleased. "Of course. It'll be good for you to get involved in community matters."

Janice raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you care about town meetings?"

"I care about people disappearing," David replied defensively. "Plus, Francine Holderman specifically mentioned it at lunch today."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Janice's expression transformed into delighted comprehension.

"Francine Holderman? That's why you want to go?" She grinned wickedly. "David's got a crush!"

"I do not," David protested, feeling his face heat up. "I just think it's important to... to stay informed about community issues."

"Right," Janice drawled. "Very civic-minded of you. Nothing to do with Francine's bouncy curls or the way you stare at her in history class."

"Janice, leave your brother alone," their mother admonished, though her lips twitched with suppressed amusement. "David, we'll pick you up at work tomorrow. The meeting starts at seven, but I'm sure we won't miss much in the first half hour."

David nodded, focusing intently on his lasagna to avoid his sister's knowing smirk. The rest of dinner passed without further embarrassment, and he escaped back to his room as soon as he'd helped clear the table.

The college essay still waited, the cursor blinking with maddening patience. David tried to force himself to focus, but his mind kept drifting to thoughts of the town meeting, Francine, and what he might say to her if he got the chance.

Eventually, he gave up on the essay and opened Battle of the Ancients instead. The familiar loading screen welcomed him, its animated logo pulsing gently. At least here, things made sense. Clear objectives, defined mechanics, predictable outcomes—everything the real world wasn't.

He logged in and was immediately greeted by a message from Tony.

You online? Check out the new Crystalline Warrior build I'm testing. Meet in practice arena?

David typed back quickly. On my way.

For the next two hours, the complexities of real life faded away as David lost himself in the game's intricate systems. By the time he logged off, it was past midnight, his eyes burning from staring at the screen too long.

He changed and got ready for bed, his thoughts already turning to tomorrow. The town meeting loomed in his mind—a chance to step outside his usual routines, to maybe be someone different for once. Whether that would be a good thing or just another opportunity for humiliation remained to be seen.

As he drifted toward sleep, the image of the elderly woman in the car returned to him—her strange, piercing gaze as she stared at him through the windshield. Something about that look had seemed off, almost as if she'd been seeing something beyond him, something only she could perceive.

Just another weird thing in a town that suddenly seemed full of them. David pulled his blanket closer and closed his eyes, hoping for dreamless sleep untouched by strange red lights or disappearing neighbors or the hundred ways he might embarrass himself in front of Francine Holderman tomorrow night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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David's gaming setup dominated one corner of his room, the dual monitors casting a bluish glow that illuminated his face in the otherwise darkened space. The rest of the room had gradually disappeared under the typical teenage chaos of discarded clothes, school papers, and empty energy drink cans. Posters for various games and sci-fi movies covered most of the available wall space, giving the room a collage-like quality.

Tony arrived around eight-thirty, not long after David had gotten home from his shift at the grocery store. He brought a family-sized bag of chips and a six-pack of Mountain Dew, essentials for their planned gaming session.

"Are you sure the lighting is good enough?" David asked, studying his image preview on the monitor as he adjusted his webcam. "The shadows make me look like I have two black eyes."

Tony snorted, sprawling onto the beanbag chair he'd claimed as his own years ago. Its once-vibrant blue had faded to a dull navy, with several suspicious stains from previous gaming marathons. "No one cares what you look like. If you had cleavage like your sister, then yeah, we'd be worried about the lighting. But trust me, your potato face isn't why people watch your stream."

"Thanks for the confidence boost," David replied dryly. "Ready to jump into some Big Team Battle? I feel like destroying some randoms tonight."

"Let's do it," Tony said, setting up his Xbox Series X controller. "I just want to drive a Warthog and run people over. You can man the turret."

"Perfect team strategy," David nodded, opening his streaming software. "The stream rats are going to love that."

By nine, they had both logged into Halo Infinite and queued up together for Big Team Battle. David's stream was live, and he was already performing for his audience.

"What's up, stream rats?" David greeted, his voice noticeably more animated than his normal speaking tone. "We're back with more Halo Infinite tonight, and I've got my boy T-dog with me on cross-play. Our plan tonight is simple: vehicular manslaughter and copious amounts of teabagging."

"Don't forget the trash talking," Tony's voice came through David's headset and the stream. "I've been practicing my toxic gamer impressions."

"Oh, shots fired!" David laughed, responding to something in the chat. "GrappleMaster420 says we're gonna get wrecked. Challenge accepted, buddy!"

The match loaded, placing them both on the blue team in a sprawling map with vehicles, weapon caches, and multiple capture points. David immediately began narrating their gameplay with an energy that was miles from his usual reserved demeanor.

"Alright, stream rats, we're on Fragmentation again. Tony, meet me at the Warthog spawn. We're going full Dukes of Hazzard tonight."

"On my way," Tony replied, his Spartan sprinting across the map to rendezvous with David's character. "I see you—hold on, there's a sniper on that ridge."

"I see him—EAT THIS, CAMPER!" David shouted as his character launched a grenade that sent the enemy sniper flying off the ledge. "That's what we call a Millridge welcome package! Comes with complementary fall damage!"

The chat erupted with laughing emojis and comments about the kill. Tony reached the Warthog and jumped into the driver's seat while David took position on the turret.

"Floor it, my dude," David commanded. "Head for their flag. I'll mow down anyone who gets in our way."

"Someone in chat says we're suicide bombing," Tony noted as he drove the vehicle at full speed toward enemy lines.

"It's only suicide bombing if we die," David countered. "We're just tactically aggressive. VERY aggressive—HOLY CRAP, JUMP!"

Both of their characters leapt from the Warthog just before it exploded from enemy fire. David's Spartan immediately began returning fire, taking down two opponents in quick succession.

"Double kill!" David crowed. "DieselFist74 just donated five bucks! Thanks, man. He wants to know if I always play this aggressively... Only when I'm trying to impress all you beautiful people. The rest of the time I'm a tactical genius, which is why my K/D ratio is hot garbage."

As they continued playing, David maintained his high-energy commentary, seamlessly blending gameplay callouts with responses to his chat and banter with Tony. His viewer count steadily climbed, reaching sixty-three as they finished their third match.

"VaporWraith asks how I got so good with the Sniper Rifle," David read from the chat during a brief lobby break. "Bold of you to assume I'm good, my friend. What you're seeing is the product of thousands of hours wasted instead of doing homework. Don't be like me, kids. Stay in school. Unless you can get paid to play video games, then drop out immediately."

"He's lying," Tony added through the voice chat. "He's terrible with the Sniper Rifle. He just got lucky that match."

"Everyone, ignore the hater in the beanbag," David replied. "He's just jealous because his Spartan looks like it was designed by a colorblind toddler. Purple and yellow? Really, dude?"

Their fourth match was loading when David's bedroom door suddenly burst open, flooding the darkened room with hallway light. Janice stood in the doorway, wrapped in nothing but a towel, her wet hair dripping onto the carpet.

"The hot water's out again!" she fumed, marching straight toward David's desk where his computer was set up. "Dad said you were messing with the water heater earlier today when you were helping him with that shelf. I had to take a freezing shower and my hair conditioner—"

She froze mid-sentence, her eyes suddenly going wide as she realized two things simultaneously: David wasn't alone, and she was essentially naked except for the towel. Her gaze locked with Tony's, who was staring at her with a deer-in-headlights expression from the beanbag chair in the corner.

"TONY?" she shrieked, clutching the towel tighter and backing toward the door.

That's when David noticed the third disaster—his webcam was still streaming, and his sister had walked directly into frame, visible to all sixty-three viewers. The chat was exploding with activity.

"Oh my god," he muttered, frantically lunging for the stream controls.

"Are you STREAMING?" Janice's voice rose another octave as she noticed the setup. "Are you SERIOUS right now?"

"I was trying to tell you—" David began, fumbling with the software controls.

"You said you were just playing games with Tony!" She backed into the hallway, her face now flushed crimson with embarrassment and anger. "Not broadcasting to the entire INTERNET!"

"I am! I mean, I was—I'm also—just get out!" David finally managed to click the "End Stream" button, cutting the transmission.

The sudden silence in the room was broken only by the continuing sounds of their Halo match—gunfire and explosions as both their characters stood motionless in the game, easy targets for enemy players. On screen, David's Spartan was riddled with bullets and collapsed dramatically as Tony's character was taken out by a grenade.

"It's not funny," David muttered as Tony started laughing uncontrollably from the beanbag chair. "Sixty-three people just saw my sister in a towel. My channel's probably going to get banned."

"Worth it," Tony managed between wheezes, watching as their characters respawned. "The chat absolutely exploded. One guy donated twenty bucks!"

"Great," David groaned, running a hand through his hair. "That's exactly the kind of attention I was hoping for—my sister's towel malfunction."

Their characters were still in the game, and Tony picked up his controller. "We're still getting wrecked in the match. Want to keep playing or call it?"

"Just quit," David sighed. "I can't focus now."

They both exited the match, their team undoubtedly cursing the sudden departure of two players. Tony set his controller aside, still grinning. "Your sister is going to murder you for this."

"Me? What about you? You were just sitting there staring at her like a creep!"

"I was in shock!" Tony defended, raising his hands. "And I wasn't the one broadcasting it to the internet!"

A moment later, Janice reappeared in the doorway—still in her towel but now with significantly more murder in her eyes. "David Michael Lamb! You'd better delete that video right now or I swear I will destroy everything you love!"

"It's already gone!" he called back. "I ended the stream!"

"I want it DELETED. Completely. From. The. Internet." Each word was punctuated with a step toward him. "And why didn't you tell me Tony was here?!"

"I tried! You just burst in like—"

"Hey, Janice," Tony offered weakly, raising a hand in an awkward wave. "I, uh, didn't see anything, I swear."

"Oh my GOD!" Janice's face reddened further. "I'm going to tell Mom. I'm going to tell EVERYONE. You are DEAD."

She slammed the door with enough force to rattle David's gaming posters, leaving him and Tony in stunned silence for a moment.

"Your sister is going to murder you in your sleep," Tony finally said, still struggling to keep a straight face.

"Me? What about you? You were just sitting there staring at her like a creep!"

"I was in shock!" Tony defended, raising his hands. "And I wasn't the one broadcasting it to the internet!"

"It was an accident," David groaned, checking if the stream had actually ended. "And we're definitely getting banned. Twitch is super strict about that kind of content."

Tony glanced at his phone. "Speaking of getting banned, it's almost ten. My mom's going to kill me if I'm not home soon. She's been crazy strict about curfew since those people went missing."

"Do you want to try to get one more match in?" David asked, already knowing the answer.

"Nah, better not risk it," Tony replied, standing up and stretching. "My mom has been texting me every fifteen minutes. She's convinced I'm going to be the next person to disappear."

"Fair enough," David said. "Probably for the best anyway. I'm not sure I can focus on the game after... that."

Tony started gathering his things, shoving the remaining chips into his backpack. "This was totally worth breaking curfew for, though. I wouldn't have missed that towel incident for anything."

"Thanks," David replied dryly. "That's incredibly helpful."

"Text me when your sister calms down enough that you're no longer in mortal danger," Tony said, heading for the door. "And hey, look at the bright side—now you have something more stressful than talking to Francine to worry about."

"Always finding the silver lining," David muttered. "I'll walk you out."

They made their way downstairs quietly, passing David's parents' room where the TV could be heard playing the evening news. At the front door, Tony gave David a mock salute.

"One more thing," he said, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. "Make sure your door is locked when you go to sleep tonight. I wasn't kidding about the murder thing."

With that, Tony slipped out into the night, leaving David alone with his thoughts and the impending wrath of his sister. He headed back upstairs, narrowly avoiding another encounter with Janice who was just closing the bathroom door at the other end of the hall.

Back in his room, David flopped onto his bed with a sigh. The abrupt end to their gaming session had left an unexpected vacuum in the space where Tony's constant chatter had been. He checked his phone and found several notifications from streaming followers, most containing the laughing emoji. This was going to haunt him for a long time.

His phone buzzed with a text from Tony: "Made it home. Mom was waiting up, looking pissed. Totally worth it though. BEST STREAM EVER."

David leaned back on his bed and sighed heavily. This was definitely going to come back to haunt him. Janice never forgot anything.

Another text from Tony appeared: "She's probably planning her revenge already. Last time my sister was mad at me, she put salt in my orange juice every morning for a week."

"Janice wouldn't be that subtle," David texted back. "She'd probably just announce it at Thanksgiving dinner in front of our grandparents."

He set his phone down for a moment, replaying the evening's embarrassment in his mind before inevitably circling back to thoughts of tomorrow's town meeting.

A moment later, another text came in, this time from Morgan: "Melissa didn't come home again tonight. Parents freaking out. Cops still say they can't do anything."

David frowned, his embarrassment momentarily forgotten. That was the second night in a row Melissa had disappeared. With everything else happening in Millridge, it seemed increasingly concerning.

"Did they say why they can't do anything?" he texted back.

Morgan's response came quickly: "She's 18. Technically an adult who can do what she wants. Plus she keeps coming back eventually."

"But with those other disappearances..."

"Exactly. Dad's going to the town meeting tomorrow to raise hell about it."

David considered this development. "I'll be there after work. Maybe we can talk to Melissa ourselves if we see her at school?"

"If she shows up. Been skipping a lot of classes too."

David set his phone aside, troubled by the growing number of strange events in Millridge. Between the disappearances, Melissa's behavior, and that eerie red light in the park, everything felt slightly off-kilter lately. Like the world had shifted a few degrees but only a few people were noticing.

He picked up his phone again as another text from Tony came through: "Mom just gave me the lecture about curfew. Told her I was helping you with Physics homework. She actually bought it."

David typed back: "Glad one of us is in the clear. Janice is actually plotting my murder."

The response came quickly: "Worth it. Best stream ever. 10/10 would risk death again."

"Morgan says Melissa's missing again tonight," David texted, changing the subject.

"That's 2 nights in a row. Starting to get beyond weird."

"Yeah. Going to try to talk to her at school tomorrow."

Tony's reply: "Good luck with that. And with Francine. And with not getting murdered by your sister. Night!"

With a sigh, David got up to brush his teeth. In the bathroom mirror, he studied his reflection critically—the same face he'd seen countless times before, but tonight it seemed to belong to someone standing at a crossroads. Part of him was still the same David who'd rather hide behind a gaming avatar than face real-world social situations, but another part was becoming increasingly aware that something strange was happening in Millridge, something that couldn't be ignored or avoided by retreating into virtual worlds.

When he returned to his room, his eyes fell on his abandoned Physics textbook. If he was going to be awake anyway, he might as well be productive. The angular momentum problems wouldn't solve themselves, and unlike the mysteries of Millridge or the complexities of talking to Francine Holderman, at least these problems had clear, definable solutions.

He worked steadily for about an hour, filling pages with calculations and diagrams, his mind occasionally wandering to tomorrow's possibilities. By the time he finally closed his textbook, his eyes were heavy with exhaustion. He set his alarm, turned off his desk lamp, and crawled into bed.

Sleep came quickly, but it wasn't peaceful.

David found himself running through the familiar terrain of Fragmentation, but it didn't feel like a game anymore. He could feel the weight of his Spartan armor, hear his own breath inside the helmet, smell the acrid scent of gunpowder and scorched metal. Everything was in first-person perspective, just like in Halo, but with a hyperrealistic intensity that no game could match.

"Tony, where are you?" he called into his helmet comm. "I'm at the rendezvous point."

"On my way," Tony's voice crackled through the radio. "Got the Warthog. Morgan's with me. Jason's covering our six."

David checked his assault rifle—fully loaded—and scanned the ridge for enemy snipers. This was familiar. This was just like their match earlier.

Tony's Warthog roared up the hill, kicking up dust as it skidded to a stop beside him. Morgan was in the passenger seat, while Tony was behind the wheel. There was no sign of Jason.

"Where's Jason?" David asked as he climbed onto the turret.

Tony and Morgan exchanged confused glances. "Who?"

"Jason. You just said he was covering you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Tony replied. "Let's move. We need to capture the flag before the timer runs out."

Something felt wrong, but David couldn't place it. He swiveled the turret, scanning for hostiles as Tony gunned the engine. The Warthog bounced over rough terrain, heading toward the enemy base.

"There's something weird going on," Morgan said suddenly. "I keep feeling like we're being watched."

David felt it too—a prickling sensation at the back of his neck. He turned the turret and nearly fell off the Warthog in shock.

Melissa Altura stood on a rocky outcropping, watching them pass. She wasn't wearing Spartan armor like the rest of them—just her normal clothes, the same dark, gothic style she always wore at school. Her gaze followed them with unsettling intensity, her head turning unnaturally as they drove past.

"Did you see that?" David shouted. "Melissa's here!"

"Who?" Tony asked, not slowing down.

"Melissa! Morgan's sister! She was right there, watching us!"

"I don't have a sister," Morgan said, his voice eerily calm.

Before David could respond, plasma fire erupted from behind a rock formation. Tony swerved, but too late—a direct hit sent the Warthog flipping through the air. David was thrown clear, landing hard on his back.

When he got to his feet, the Warthog was a burning wreck. There was no sign of Tony.

"Tony!" he called. "Morgan!"

Morgan staggered up from behind a boulder, his armor scorched. "Tony's gone," he said flatly, as if commenting on the weather. "Just... gone."

"What do you mean gone? He can't be gone!"

"People keep disappearing," Morgan replied, checking his battle rifle. "First Jason, now Tony. Haven't you noticed?"

David felt a chill that had nothing to do with the game environment. "We need to find them."

"We need to complete the mission," Morgan corrected, pointing toward the enemy base. "The flag won't capture itself."

They moved forward cautiously, taking cover behind rocks and trees. As they crested a hill, David spotted Melissa again, standing perfectly still in the middle of an open field. She shouldn't have been there—she would be an easy target for snipers—but she seemed unconcerned, her face expressionless as she watched them approach.

"Morgan, look—" David began, but when he turned, Morgan was gone. No sound, no warning. Just... gone.

"Morgan!" he called, panic rising in his throat. "MORGAN!"

His only answer was the distant sound of gunfire.

David sprinted toward Melissa, his assault rifle raised. "What's happening?" he demanded. "Where are they going? What did you do with them?"

Melissa tilted her head slightly, studying him with cold, calculating eyes. "They're where they need to be," she said, her voice eerily calm. "Where they all need to be. Where you'll be too, soon enough."

"What does that mean?" David's hands were shaking on his rifle. "Tell me!"

Instead of answering, Melissa smiled—a smile that never reached her eyes. "The convergence is coming," she said. "Can't you feel it? The veil is thinning."

She turned and walked away, her movements too smooth, too precise to be human.

"Wait!" David called, trying to follow, but his legs wouldn't move. He looked down and saw that his feet were sinking into the ground, as if the solid earth had turned to quicksand.

"Help!" he shouted, but there was no one left to hear him.

As he sank deeper, he caught one last glimpse of Melissa, standing on a distant ridge. She wasn't alone anymore. A figure stood beside her—a woman with striking red hair, watching him with an unnaturally intense gaze. It was the same look the old woman in the car had given him—as if she were seeing something beyond him, something only she could perceive.

The ground swallowed him up to his chest, then his neck. As darkness closed in around him, he heard Melissa's voice one last time:

"Temporal limitations are meaningless in the great design."

David jolted awake, gasping for breath, his heart hammering in his chest. His room was dark and quiet, the only sound his own ragged breathing. The dream had been so vivid, so real.

He fumbled for his phone on the nightstand and checked the time: 3:17 AM. Hours still before he needed to get up for school.

As he lay back down, trying to calm his racing heart, a text notification lit up his screen. It was from Morgan:

"She just came home. Acting even weirder. Said something about 'temporal limitations' and 'the great design.' Dad tried to ground her. She just laughed."

David stared at the message, a chill running down his spine. The exact words from his dream.

He didn't get back to sleep that night.

Tomorrow would come soon enough, and with it, whatever the town meeting might reveal—about the disappearances, about Millridge, and perhaps even about himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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The Millridge College campus was bathed in the gentle glow of autumn sunshine, golden light filtering through the maple trees that lined the quad. Traci Walholme checked her watch for the third time in ten minutes, her foot tapping an impatient rhythm against the weathered brick pathway. Celeste was late, which wasn't like her at all.

"Come on, come on," she muttered, readjusting her backpack. Her fingers brushed against the hidden pocket where her Ruby gem rested, its familiar warmth providing a measure of comfort.

The campus was busier than usual for a weekday afternoon. Students lounged on the grass, soaking up what might be the last pleasant day before winter settled in. A group of freshmen tossed a frisbee with the exaggerated enthusiasm of people trying desperately to appear carefree. Traci watched them with a mixture of envy and amusement. How simple things must be when your biggest worry was passing Intro to Psychology.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Celeste: Running late. Meet at Aldridge Library instead? Second floor, southwest corner.

Traci frowned at the message. Celeste was usually meticulous about their meeting locations, preferring open spaces with clear sightlines in all directions. The library's southwest corner was notably isolated—perfect for privacy but terrible for security. Still, Celeste wouldn't change plans without good reason.

On my way, she replied, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and heading toward the imposing brick building at the north end of campus.

The library was an architectural oddity—a blend of colonial design with modern additions that never quite meshed properly. Inside, the air carried the distinctive scent of old books and the slightly antiseptic smell of industrial carpet cleaner. Traci nodded to the student working at the circulation desk and made her way toward the stairs.

The second floor was quieter than the first, with individual study carrels lining the walls and small group study rooms branching off the main area. The southwest corner housed the rarely-used cartography section—maps and geological surveys that had been largely digitized, leaving the physical copies to gather dust.

Celeste was there already, her long auburn hair tied back in a practical ponytail, bent over a large book spread open on the table. She looked up as Traci approached, dark circles under her eyes suggesting she hadn't slept much recently.

"Sorry about the change of plans," Celeste said, her voice low. "I needed somewhere we could look at these without attracting attention." She gestured to the book, which Traci now recognized as an atlas of Georgia, opened to a detailed topographical map of Millridge and the surrounding counties.

"What am I looking at?" Traci asked, sliding into the chair beside her.

"Leylines," Celeste replied, tracing a finger along a marked path that ran through the county. "I've been taking readings for weeks now, visiting each section of the lines and recording the energy pulses with my gem."

Traci studied the map with renewed interest. Celeste had marked several locations with colored pins—red for high energy readings, blue for historical sites of interest, and yellow for unusual fluctuations.

"This is impressive work," Traci said, genuinely impressed. "But why the sudden interest in mapping the leyline energy? We've always known they run through Millridge."

Celeste looked around cautiously before answering. "Look at the pattern," she said, pointing to her notations along the lines. "My readings confirm what I suspected. The energy isn't just fluctuating randomly—it's pulsing in a coordinated wave, flowing inward toward the Infernal Mount, then reversing and flowing outward."

Traci examined the map more closely. Celeste had noted time stamps beside her readings, showing the progression of energy pulses along the leylines.

"The pulses are increasing in frequency," Traci observed, seeing the pattern. "That's concerning, but not unprecedented during seasonal shifts."

"It's not just the frequency that concerns me," Celeste replied, pulling out another map from her bag. This one showed the same area with additional notations. "It's the symmetry and precision. Look at these waveforms—they're identical at each measuring point, just offset in time. Natural fluctuations would show more variation."

"And you're seeing this activity outside the park too?" Traci asked, pointing to markings along the leylines that extended well beyond Millridge State Park.

"Yes," Celeste confirmed. "The pulses are moving along all the leylines, not just the ones that run through the park. I've taken readings at the Johnson farm, the old mill, and even near the high school. Same pattern everywhere, all feeding into the Infernal Mount."

Traci felt a chill that had nothing to do with the library's aggressive air conditioning. "That's... deliberate. Someone's manipulating the energy in the leylines."

"Exactly," Celeste nodded grimly. "Someone or something is creating artificial pulses, pushing energy toward the Infernal Mount, then pulling it back out again."

"The Infernal Mount hasn't been this sophisticated in the past," Traci mused, studying the pattern. "They usually go for brute force approaches—tear open a dimensional weak point and pour through before we can respond."

"Maybe they're evolving their tactics," Celeste suggested. "Or maybe it's something else entirely."

Traci sat back, considering the implications. "Have you shared this with Lucy yet?"

"I'm planning to meet with Heather first to get her perspective, then take everything to Lucy," Celeste replied. "With something this unusual, I wanted to gather as much information as possible before making an official report."

Traci nodded, recognizing the wisdom in that approach. Despite her younger age, she'd risen to her position as Ruby Leader through a combination of raw talent and hard-won experience. If Celeste valued her perspective, there was good reason.

"We need to establish a monitoring rotation along the leylines and at the convergence points," she said decisively. "Teams of two, using their gems to take regular readings. If there's a pattern, we can predict when the next major pulse will hit the Mount."

"I've already started," Celeste said, a hint of pride in her voice. "Erica's been helping me. She's taken readings at several points along the western line."

"Good," Traci nodded. "But let's coordinate with everyone. Heather's far-sight might pick up something our gem readings miss, and William's connection to the earth could give us additional insights."

They spent the next hour developing a surveillance plan, marking critical monitoring points and discussing patrol schedules. The work was familiar, almost comforting in its procedural nature, but Traci couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something important.

"What about that incident in the park?" she asked as they were finishing up. "The red light that the civilian boys reported?"

Celeste frowned. "That's another anomaly. The timing matches one of the major energy pulses, but the manifestation was different. Usually, these energy fluctuations aren't visible to untrained observers."

"Unless they wanted to be seen," Traci suggested. "What if it was deliberate—a message or a distraction?"

"From whom? And for what purpose?" Celeste asked, though her expression suggested she was already considering the possibilities.

"I don't know," Traci admitted. "But we should increase patrols near the park entrance. If they're going to make another appearance, I want one of us there to witness it directly."

Celeste nodded, making a note in her planner—an old-fashioned paper one, not a digital calendar. The Ruby Terranaut insisted that some things were too important to trust to technology that could be hacked or disabled.

"I'm meeting with Lucy later today," Celeste said as she carefully returned the maps to her bag. "I'll update her on our conclusions and the monitoring plan."

"Good. And I'll talk to William about setting up additional patrols," Traci replied. "His Emerald connection to natural systems might pick up something our standard readings miss."

They packed up their materials in companionable silence, the practiced efficiency of teammates who had worked together long enough to anticipate each other's movements.

"I've been thinking about checking the main convergence point near the Infernal Mount tonight," Celeste said as they prepared to leave. "The last reading I took showed an unusual resonance pattern that I'd like to verify."

"Want company?" Traci offered. "I can reschedule my study group."

"No need," Celeste assured her. "It's a routine check, and I know the area well. Besides, you need those study hours if you're going to maintain that GPA."

Traci gave her a skeptical look. "Just follow standard protocols. No unnecessary risks."

"Always," Celeste promised with a slight smile. "I'll take readings and report back. Nothing adventurous."

They left the library together, squinting slightly as they stepped into the bright afternoon sunlight. The campus had grown quieter during their meeting, with most students now in afternoon classes.

"I need to head to class," Traci said, checking her watch. "Calculus III waits for no Terranaut."

Celeste laughed softly. "I've got a couple of hours before I need to meet Lucy. Think I'll grab a coffee and review these readings again."

A flicker of concern crossed Traci's face. "Be careful out there. Even routine checks could be risky with the current energy fluctuations."

"Always am," Celeste assured her. "Standard protocols, no unnecessary risks."

They parted ways at the library steps, each heading toward their respective responsibilities. Traci watched Celeste's retreating figure for a moment, noting the slight tension in her shoulders. Despite her assurances, Celeste was worried—more worried than she was letting on.

Traci turned toward the Mathematics building, her mind working through contingency plans. If Celeste's readings were correct and someone was systematically manipulating the leyline energy, they needed to be prepared for a potential breach at the Infernal Mount. Which meant they needed all hands on deck, every Terranaut ready and fully trained.

Her phone buzzed with a text from William Beck: Something unusual at the southwest junction point. Tree roots growing toward leyline pattern. Very localized. Need to discuss.

Traci typed back a quick reply: Tomorrow morning? Breakfast at Millridge Café, 7AM?

His response came almost immediately: I'll be there. Bringing samples.

Traci pocketed her phone and continued toward her class, mentally adding the breakfast meeting to her already packed schedule. Between college courses, Terranaut duties, and trying to maintain some semblance of a normal social life, her days were stretched thin. But that was the reality of their calling—the responsibility they took on when they accepted the gems and their power.

As she climbed the steps to the Mathematics building, Traci's thoughts returned to the map in the library and the pattern of energy pulses flowing through Millridge's leylines. Whatever was coming, they would be ready for it. They had to be.

________________________________________

Heather Lockhart's home was nestled in a quiet corner of Millridge's older residential district, a modest cottage with a garden that seemed almost impossibly vibrant even as autumn advanced. Stone pathways wound between carefully tended plants, many of them rare herbs and flowers known for their meditative or healing properties.

Her workshop, a converted garage attached to the main house, was divided into two distinct spaces. One half contained her woodworking tools and materials—a lathe, bandsaw, workbenches covered in wood shavings, and shelves of carefully labeled wood samples. The other half resembled a meditation studio, with cushions arranged on a polished wooden floor, crystals positioned at precise angles around the room, and delicate wind chimes hanging from the ceiling beams.

The soft tinkle of those chimes greeted Celeste as she entered the space. Heather looked up from her workbench with mild surprise, quickly setting aside the wooden box she'd been carving.

"Celeste! I wasn't expecting you today," she said, wiping her hands on a cloth. "Give me just a moment to put on some tea."

"I don't mean to interrupt," Celeste replied, closing the door behind her.

"Nonsense," Heather smiled warmly. "I was just finishing up this commission. Tea is always welcome, and you look like you could use some." She moved to a small alcove where an electric kettle sat beside an array of tea canisters. "Something's troubling you."

It wasn't a question, but it wasn't mysterious precognition either—just the observation of someone perceptive enough to read the tension in Celeste's shoulders and the concern in her eyes.

"I've been taking readings along the leylines," Celeste explained, setting her bag on a stool. "The energy patterns are... concerning."

"Show me," Heather said simply, measuring loose tea leaves into a ceramic pot while water heated in the kettle.

Celeste spread out her maps and notes on a clear section of workbench. She described the readings she'd taken, pointing out the pattern of energy pulses and their increasing frequency.

"The symmetry is what concerns me most," she concluded. "These pulses aren't natural fluctuations—they're too precise, too coordinated."

Heather poured steaming water over the tea leaves, then joined Celeste at the workbench. She studied the maps carefully, occasionally running a finger along one of the marked leylines.

"You're right to be concerned," she agreed after a thorough examination. "I've been feeling disturbances, though I couldn't pin down the pattern like you have." She gestured toward the meditation area. "My distant sight has been cloudy lately, like trying to look through fog."

"That's unusual for you," Celeste noted with concern.

"Melanie's been experiencing similar issues with her precognition," Heather added. "She can see further than I can, of course—that's her specialty—but even she says the future paths are blurring together. She's getting fragments of potential outcomes but can't establish a clear timeline."

"Both of you having difficulties at the same time is concerning," Celeste said. "Could something be deliberately interfering with your abilities?"

Heather nodded, returning to check on the tea. "Whatever's manipulating the leylines may be deliberately obscuring itself from detection. Not just from our readings, but from our sight as well."

She poured the fragrant tea into two cups and handed one to Celeste. "The town meeting tomorrow night—I think we should have a presence there."

"The town meeting?" Celeste repeated, surprised by the apparent change of subject. "What does a civilian gathering have to do with leyline energy pulses?"

"Not everything important happens along leylines," Heather replied with a smile. "Sometimes the most significant events happen in plain sight, where we're least expecting them." She took a sip of her tea. "My sight may be cloudy on most matters, but the town meeting appears regularly when I try to look ahead. That suggests it's important, though I can't see exactly why."

Celeste considered this as she sipped her tea. The blend was one of Heather's specialties—herbs from her garden combined with imported teas, selected for both flavor and their subtle effects on mood and perception.

"I could attend," she offered. "I've been meaning to check on the Lamb boy anyway. He was at the park that night when the red light was seen."

Heather nodded. "Good. I'll be there as well, though not too obviously. We don't want to draw unnecessary attention."

They finished their tea in companionable silence, each lost in her own thoughts. When Celeste finally rose to leave, Heather accompanied her to the door.

"Be careful at the Infernal Mount tonight," she said with genuine concern. "The energies are unsettled, and not all dangers announce themselves with dramatic displays."

Celeste looked at her sharply. "How did you know I was planning to check the Mount?"

Heather laughed softly. "No mystical insight required. It's what I would do in your position, given these readings. Just take the eastern approach—the western path will be muddy from yesterday's maintenance work on the drainage system."

"I'll be careful," Celeste promised, relieved by the practical explanation. "Standard protocols, nothing heroic."

Heather's expression grew more serious. "See that you are. We need every Terranaut at full strength for whatever's coming."

Outside, the afternoon had started to wane, the golden sunlight taking on the amber hues of approaching evening. Celeste checked her watch. She still had time to meet with Lucy before heading to the Infernal Mount for her evening readings.

As she walked toward her car, Celeste's mind worked through the implications of her conversations with Traci and Heather. The pattern of energy pulses was concerning enough, but the sense that something was deliberately obscuring itself from their detection methods added another layer of anxiety.

She slid into the driver's seat of her modest sedan—practical, reliable, and entirely unremarkable, perfect for a Terranaut who needed to blend in. Her Ruby gem rested securely in her pocket, a comforting weight against her leg.

Whatever was coming, they would face it together, as they always had. The Terranauts had protected Millridge for generations, standing as guardians against forces most residents couldn't even imagine. This time would be no different.

Yet as Celeste started the engine and pulled away from Heather's house, she couldn't quite shake the feeling that something fundamental was about to change in their carefully ordered world. The question was whether they would be ready when it did.

________________________________________

The Infernal Mount—misleadingly named, as it was neither infernal nor a mountain in any conventional sense—was located in a secluded section of Millridge State Park. To casual observers, it appeared to be nothing more than a gentle rise in the landscape, unremarkable except for the distinctive rock formation at its peak and the unusually dense vegetation surrounding it.

To the Terranauts, it was the most important location in Millridge—the primary convergence point where all the local leylines met, creating a nexus of energy that occasionally thinned the barrier between dimensions. When that happened, things could slip through from other realms, ranging from minor annoyances to major threats requiring the full Terranaut team to contain.

Celeste knew there were other places like this scattered around the world—points where the dimensional barriers naturally thinned. Each was monitored by its own group of Terranauts, all connected through their common purpose but focused on protecting their local territories. The Infernal Mount was their responsibility, their piece of the global defense network, and they took that duty seriously.

Celeste parked in the eastern lot as Heather had suggested, noting with amusement that the western entrance did indeed have maintenance vehicles and muddy tire tracks visible. The park was quieter than usual for a weekday afternoon. Recent disappearances had made people wary of isolated areas, which suited Celeste's purposes perfectly.

She shouldered her backpack and headed down a narrow trail that led deeper into the woods. To casual observers, she looked like any other hiker enjoying the park's natural beauty. Only another Terranaut would notice the deliberate way she scanned her surroundings or the slight bulge in her jacket pocket where her gem rested.

The path gradually inclined, winding through increasingly dense vegetation until it opened onto a clearing where a formation of three large boulders stood in a triangular arrangement. This was the visible portion of the Infernal Mount—the actual convergence point lay directly beneath the center of the triangle, deep underground where the leylines physically intersected.

Celeste glanced around to ensure she was alone, then moved to the center of the triangle. She removed her Ruby gem from her pocket and cupped it in both hands, closing her eyes as she concentrated. The crystal responded immediately, growing warm in her palms and emitting a soft red glow.

The reading was alarming—energy levels far exceeding what she'd recorded previously, with complex patterns that confirmed her suspicions. The pulses were stronger here, naturally, as this was where they all converged, but the intensity suggested they were building toward something significant.

Most concerning was the timing. Based on the energy signature, if the pattern continued accelerating at the current rate, a major energy spike would hit the convergence point within the next forty-eight hours—possibly during the town meeting Heather had mentioned.

Celeste continued taking readings for nearly an hour, moving methodically around the perimeter of the clearing to chart the energy flow from different angles. The results were consistent and troubling. She recorded everything in her notebook using the specialized shorthand she had developed for field work.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the clearing, Celeste reluctantly prepared to leave. She'd need to report these findings to Lucy immediately, and they would likely need to establish round-the-clock monitoring of the Mount until they understood what was happening.

The setting sun painted the sky in vivid oranges and purples as Celeste packed away her notebook and began the walk back to her car. Night came quickly this time of year, and already the forest was filling with shadows, the spaces between trees darkening rapidly. She kept her gem close, more for the comforting warmth than any expectation of danger.

The readings troubled her deeply. The energy pulses were not only increasing in frequency but also in intensity, suggesting a deliberate build-up toward some critical threshold. Having studied the Infernal Mount for years, she knew that when energy levels reached certain peaks, the barrier between dimensions grew thin enough for things to pass through.

Most concerning was the precision of the pulses—the symmetrical pattern that showed careful manipulation rather than natural fluctuation. Someone or something was pushing against the barrier, testing its strength, looking for weaknesses.

By the time she reached her car, the parking lot was empty, the last day hikers having departed as darkness fell. Celeste started the engine and turned the heat on, letting the car warm up while she jotted down a few final notes. Tomorrow's town meeting might provide an opportunity to observe the civilians for any signs of unusual behavior, and they'd need to establish a rotation for monitoring the Mount.

As she pulled out of the parking lot, Celeste couldn't help but feel that they were approaching a critical juncture. The peaceful evening around her seemed suddenly fragile, a thin veneer of normalcy stretched over a reality far more complex and dangerous than most could imagine.

Whatever was coming, the Terranauts would be ready. They had to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Celeste Rawlins pulled her jacket tighter against the evening chill, grateful she'd thought to bring an extra layer. October nights in Millridge were unpredictable—sometimes clinging to late summer warmth, other times plunging into winter's preview. Tonight was definitely leaning toward the latter.

"Getting anything?" Erica Heathers asked, falling into step beside her. The Emerald Terranaut adjusted her scarf, casually slipping a hand into her pocket where her gem rested.

"Faint, but consistent," Celeste replied, keeping her voice low despite the empty sidewalk. "Same pattern as yesterday, but stronger."

They were walking through the northern residential district of Millridge, an area of modest homes built in the 1970s and 80s that now housed a mix of retirees and young families. Streetlights cast pools of yellow light at regular intervals, illuminating well-kept lawns and jack-o'-lanterns that had begun appearing on porches in anticipation of Halloween.

Their mission was straightforward—track and document the unusual fluctuations in energy patterns along Millridge's leylines. While they had thoroughly mapped the leyline network years ago, these recent energy variances warranted careful monitoring and documentation.

"It's definitely moving," Erica noted as her gem pulsed with a subtle vibration against her palm. "Not stationary like the hotspots we found last week."

Celeste nodded, checking her phone as if reading a text message while actually making a note of their location and the energy's characteristics. "Mobile, but purposeful. Following the leyline precisely."

They continued down Maple Street, passing houses where blue television light flickered behind curtains and the occasional sound of laughter or music drifted through open windows. The normality of it all—people going about their evening routines, unaware of the supernatural energies flowing beneath their feet—never failed to strike Celeste as both remarkable and somewhat sad.

"Mrs. Blackwell got her Halloween decorations up early this year," Erica commented as they passed a house with an elaborate display of skeletons climbing its porch. "Looks like she's going all out again."

"She always does," Celeste smiled. "Remember that animatronic witch she had last year? The one that scared the Peterson kid so badly he dropped his entire candy bag?"

"Classic," Erica laughed. "Though to be fair, that thing was terrifying. The eyes followed you."

Their conversation paused as both gems pulsed simultaneously—a stronger reading than before. Celeste subtly changed their course, guiding them toward Montgomery Drive where the energy signature seemed to be intensifying.

"Getting stronger," she murmured as they turned the corner. "Something's definitely active tonight."

Montgomery Drive was quieter than Maple Street, with older homes set further back from the road and taller trees creating deeper shadows between streetlights. The energy readings led them toward the intersection with Birch Lane, steadily increasing in strength.

"It's right up ahead," Erica whispered, her gem warming noticeably in her pocket.

They slowed their pace, maintaining the appearance of a casual evening walk while their senses heightened to full alert. As they approached the intersection, the front door of a nearby house opened, spilling warm light onto the porch. A couple emerged, pulling the door closed behind them.

"Evening walks are the best part of fall," the woman was saying as they started down their front path. "Not too hot, not too cold."

"Until it rains," her husband replied good-naturedly. "Then you'll be complaining that we should have driven."

The couple noticed Celeste and Erica as they reached the sidewalk. "Evening," the man called with a friendly nod.

"Hi there," Celeste replied with an easy smile, automatically shifting into casual-local mode. "Beautiful night for a walk."

"It really is," the woman agreed. She appeared to be in her fifties, with graying hair pulled back in a practical ponytail. "Though they say rain's coming tomorrow."

"That's what I heard too," Erica nodded. "Better enjoy the clear skies while we can."

The brief interaction felt perfectly ordinary, but Celeste noticed something unusual—the energy signature they'd been tracking had shifted dramatically the moment the couple appeared. Not disappeared, but changed in character, becoming more diffuse, less directional.

"You two live over on Maple, don't you?" the man asked, his tone conversational. "I think I've seen you at the Wilsons' Christmas party last year."

"I'm actually over on Oak Street," Celeste replied smoothly. "But Erica's not far from the Wilsons."

"That's right," the woman nodded. "You teach at the college, don't you?" she asked Celeste.

"Teaching assistant," Celeste confirmed, impressed by the woman's memory. Millridge wasn't so small that everyone knew everyone, but faces became familiar over time. "I work in the geology department while finishing my master's."

"My nephew's taking a geology course this semester," the man said. "Connor Briggs? Tall kid, always wearing those band t-shirts?"

"Connor, sure," Celeste nodded, placing the student. "He's doing well in structural geology. Asks good questions."

The casual conversation continued for another moment before the couple resumed their walk with friendly goodbyes. As they moved away, Celeste and Erica exchanged a glance, both checking their gems discreetly.

"The signature completely changed when they showed up," Erica murmured once the couple was out of earshot.

"Not just changed—fragmented," Celeste agreed. "Like it scattered in response to their presence."

They continued walking, following the now-diffused energy pattern. It no longer moved with purpose along the leyline but seemed to hover in the area, dispersed across a wider radius.

"Could they have disrupted it somehow?" Erica suggested. "Just by being there?"

"Possibly," Celeste considered. "Regular human presence can sometimes interfere with certain types of energy manifestations. But this felt more like..."

"Like it was reacting," Erica finished her thought. "Almost hiding."

They spent another forty minutes circling the northern neighborhood, but the energy signature never reformed. Whatever they had been tracking had either moved on or transformed so completely they could no longer detect it in the same way.

"We should head back," Celeste said finally, checking her watch. "Lucy's expecting us at nine for the debrief."

As they walked toward Erica's car, parked several blocks away near the edge of the residential district, they compiled their observations for the report they would deliver. The mobile energy signature, its precise movement along the leyline, and its strange reaction to the couple's appearance—all pieces of a puzzle that still lacked a coherent picture.

"Do you think it's connected to what Traci found at the Mount yesterday?" Erica asked as they reached her car, a practical blue sedan that blended perfectly with Millridge's unassuming aesthetic.

"Almost certainly," Celeste replied, sliding into the passenger seat. "The timing's too coincidental otherwise."

The drive to the college was short and quiet, both women mentally preparing for the evening's debrief. Something was happening in Millridge—something methodical and deliberate. The question was what, and whether they would be ready when it finally revealed itself.

________________________________________

The administration building was nearly empty when they arrived. Lucy had arranged to use one of the smaller conference rooms on the third floor, citing a "departmental planning committee" as cover. Campus security knew Lucy as a respected staff member with authorization for after-hours access, and the custodial crew was accustomed to late meetings during midterm season.

When Celeste and Erica entered, they found Lucy already there with Traci and William. A campus map was spread on the table, with colored pins marking various locations around Millridge.

"How was the northern sector?" Lucy asked without preamble, her Diamond Terranaut precision evident in every aspect of her bearing.

"Active," Celeste reported, moving to the map. "We tracked a mobile signature along the leyline here," she indicated Maple Street, "to approximately this intersection," her finger moved to Montgomery and Birch. "That's where things got interesting."

She described the energy's behavior in detail—its purposeful movement, its sudden fragmentation when the couple appeared, and its failure to reconstitute afterward.

"Same basic pattern as what William and I found yesterday," Traci noted, "but with a different reaction to human presence. Our signature remained stable even when that jogger passed directly through it."

"The differences are as important as the similarities," Lucy observed, adding a blue pin to the map at the location Celeste had indicated. "Each manifestation has its own characteristics, but they're clearly related."

William Beck, the youngest of the assembled Terranauts, studied the map with a thoughtful expression. "They're creating a pattern," he said, gesturing to the various pins. "Not random appearances—they're systematically covering the leyline network."

Lucy nodded. "That's been my suspicion as well. Whatever this is, it's methodical. Deliberate."

"A survey," Traci suggested. "They're mapping the leylines, just like we are."

"But who's 'they'?" Erica asked the question they were all considering. "This doesn't match any Infernal Mount activity we've seen before."

"No," Lucy agreed, her expression grave. "This is something new to our records. We should check with other groups to see if they've encountered similar patterns before."

The discussion continued for nearly an hour, each Terranaut reporting their findings and observations from recent days. They compared energy signatures, timing patterns, and behavioral characteristics, updating their detailed leyline maps with the latest variances.

"We need to increase our monitoring," Lucy concluded after they had exhausted their current information. "Regular checks of the major leyline junctions, maybe two or three times daily, and better coordination of our existing patrols."

"We don't have the numbers for anything more intensive," Traci pointed out. "Even with everyone participating, we all have classes and jobs."

"I know," Lucy acknowledged. "We'll work with what we have. It might just be another probing like we saw back in 2021, but we should stay vigilant until we understand what we're dealing with."

She assigned patrol schedules and monitoring rotations, carefully balancing the team's supernatural responsibilities with their ordinary lives and obligations. In a small town like Millridge, unexplained absences or strange behavior could draw unwanted attention—something none of them could risk.

"One more thing," Lucy said as the meeting was winding down. "The town meeting tomorrow night. I'd like several of us to attend. Celeste, you'll be there as faculty representative. Francine is already organizing student attendance, and her presence makes perfect sense given her school activities."

"I'll keep my eyes open," Celeste confirmed.

"William, you should attend with your mother since she's on the town council. Heather, you'll want to participate given your community position—people will expect to hear your thoughts on the disappearances."

Heather nodded. "I've prepared a few practical safety recommendations that won't raise any alarms."

"The rest of us will maintain normal patrol rotations during the meeting. Having multiple perspectives will help us get a complete picture, but we also need to maintain our regular coverage."

With assignments clarified and protocols established, the meeting adjourned. Lucy remained behind to secure their materials while the others departed in staggered intervals—a standard precaution to avoid drawing attention to their gathering.

Celeste left with Erica, walking her to her car before heading to her own. The campus was quiet, most buildings dark except for security lighting. A few students crossed the quad, returning to dorms from late study sessions at the library.

"What do you think this is?" Erica asked softly as they reached her car. "Another false alarm or something we need to worry about?"

Celeste considered the question. "Hard to say. We've seen similar patterns before that amounted to nothing. Remember that flurry of activity back in 2021? We all thought something major was brewing, and then it just... faded away."

"True," Erica nodded. "I guess we'll monitor and see what develops."

As she drove home, Celeste mentally reviewed the evening's findings. The way the energy had fragmented at the couple's appearance was certainly unusual—not dispersing randomly, but deliberately scattering. It was something to note, but they'd seen strange energy behaviors before that turned out to be nothing significant.

Her apartment was dark when she arrived, just as she had left it. Celeste performed her usual security check—a habit born of years as a Terranaut—before finally allowing herself to relax. Tomorrow would bring the town meeting, another opportunity to observe the community's response to the recent disappearances.

She placed her Ruby gem on her nightstand, watching its soft glow pulse gently in the darkness. Being a Terranaut meant staying vigilant, even when most threats turned out to be minor incursions or false alarms. Millridge might appear to be just another small town to most of its residents, but to those who knew its secrets, it was one of many places where the veil between worlds occasionally grew thin.

________________________________________

Melanie Branherst sat bolt upright in bed, her heart hammering against her ribs. The dream—so vivid, so terrifyingly real—still clung to her consciousness like cobwebs she couldn't brush away. Cold sweat dampened her tank top, and her hands trembled as she reached for the lamp on her nightstand.

Light flooded her bedroom, chasing away the immediate shadows but doing nothing to dispel the lingering dread from her dream. Despite her comfort with her Sapphire powers, this dream had been different—more invasive, more targeted.

In the dream, she'd been walking through Millridge—or something that resembled Millridge but wasn't quite right, the geography twisted and wrong in subtle ways. Something had been following her, something she couldn't see directly but could feel getting closer with each step. Not pursuing her, exactly, but seeking—searching for something it needed. A vessel, a container for its essence. And somehow, she knew it was scanning her, evaluating her suitability.

The worst part wasn't the presence itself but the sense of inevitability that accompanied it—the bone-deep certainty that it would find what it was looking for, regardless of where anyone hid or how far they ran.

Melanie reached for her phone, checking the time: 2:17 AM. Too late to call anyone... except perhaps the one person who might actually understand the implications of such a dream.

She hesitated, then pulled up her contacts and found the number. It rang three times before a calm, centered voice answered.

"Melanie. You're up late."

"Mrs. Lockhart," Melanie's voice was composed despite her lingering unease. "I'm sorry to call at this hour, but I've had a precognitive dream that feels... different from my usual visions."

"Different how?" Heather Lockhart's voice was attentive, focused.

Melanie described the dream in precise detail—the distorted Millridge, the seeking presence, the search for a suitable vessel.

"It felt like it was evaluating potential containers for its essence," she concluded. "Not specifically targeting me, but scanning broadly—like it was shopping for the right fit."

"I see," Heather replied thoughtfully. "That aligns with some of the energy patterns we've been detecting."

There was a brief silence on the line. In the background, Melanie could hear the soft domestic sounds of Heather's home—dishes being carefully stacked, a kettle being filled.

"I was just finishing up some things before bed," Heather explained. "James and the kids are already asleep."

"Have you sensed anything unusual tonight?" Melanie asked, adjusting her pillows to sit more comfortably.

"Yes, though not as specifically as your dream suggests. The energies are shifting, but that's happened before without incident."

Melanie considered this. Her Sapphire abilities had manifested early and powerfully, giving her access to precognitive insights beyond what most Terranauts could achieve. But precognition was always tricky—potential futures rather than certainties.

"Do you think this is connected to what Celeste and Erica found tonight?" she asked.

"Possibly," Heather replied. "They tracked an unusual energy signature in the northern district. It behaved... unusually when ordinary civilians approached."

"Hiding itself," Melanie suggested. "Or changing its form to avoid detection."

"Yes, that's what Lucy suspects as well."

There was another pause, comfortable rather than tense. Melanie and Heather had worked together extensively on developing Melanie's precognitive abilities, establishing a rapport that didn't require constant verbalization.

"I'll share your dream with Lucy tomorrow," Heather said. "It adds another valuable data point to what we're gathering."

"Will you be at the town meeting?" Melanie asked.

"Yes. Keeping a low profile, but present. You?"

"I'm supposed to be there with my parents," Melanie confirmed. "I can keep watch from the civilian perspective."

"Good," Heather approved. "Just be careful not to push your abilities too hard in public. The last thing we need is a visible manifestation."

"I've got that under control," Melanie assured her, a touch of pride in her voice. She had mastered the basics of her powers with remarkable speed, earning the respect of even the most experienced Terranauts.

"I know you do," Heather's voice held a smile. "Do you think you can get back to sleep now?"

"I think so," Melanie replied, though the dream's imagery still lingered. "I'll run through the balancing exercise you taught me."

"Excellent. And Melanie—if you have any more unusual dreams or visions before tomorrow, call me. Any time."

After they hung up, Melanie settled back into bed, already beginning the mental visualization that helped her organize and process precognitive information. She'd learned these techniques quickly, adapting them to her own natural abilities with an intuitive understanding that had impressed her mentors.

The dream troubled her, but she approached it analytically rather than emotionally—another data point, another piece of the larger picture the Terranauts were assembling. Without transforming, her Sapphire abilities were limited to precognition and clairvoyance, but those were precisely what she needed now. If she required her full range of powers, she'd need to activate her complete Terranaut form.

Sleep eventually reclaimed her, her mind now ordered and calm. The questions remained, but they were categorized and prioritized, ready to be addressed when the time came—a skill she had developed through careful practice and natural talent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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The sound of a door slamming echoed through the Altura household, but Melissa barely registered it. She sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at the wall opposite her. The black and gray tapestry she'd hung there featured an intricate mandala design that she used to find captivating. Now it was just another pattern, devoid of meaning.

Her room was a carefully constructed sanctuary of shadows. Heavy blackout curtains blocked most of the afternoon sunlight, leaving only thin slivers to illuminate the space. Posters of gothic bands and esoteric artwork adorned the dark purple walls. A collection of crystals and oddities cluttered her desk, while her bookshelves overflowed with volumes on mythology, occultism, and ancient history.

Once, these things had given her comfort—a sense of connection to something deeper than the superficial world around her. Now they felt like sad attempts to find meaning where there was none.

Melissa uncrossed her legs and laid back on her unmade bed, staring at the ceiling. When had everything become so... empty? It wasn't just school, or the growing distance between her and her friends, or even her family's increasing concerns about her behavior. It was something deeper, a hollowness that had been growing inside her for months.

"Melissa?" Her mother's voice called from downstairs. "Are you home?"

She didn't answer. What was the point? They'd have the same conversation they always had—questions about her day that she couldn't answer honestly, concerns about her grades that she didn't share, and attempts to connect that only highlighted how disconnected she truly felt.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand—probably Morgan texting to check on her again. Her brother meant well, but his concern felt suffocating lately. She couldn't explain to him that the sister he knew was disappearing one piece at a time, being replaced by something even she didn't recognize.

With a sigh, Melissa picked up the phone.

'You coming to dinner? Mom's asking.' Morgan's text read.

'Not hungry,' she typed back, then added, 'Studying.' A small lie to keep them at bay.

She dropped the phone beside her and closed her eyes. School had been unbearable today. Everyone seemed to move through life with such certainty, such purpose. Even the stoners and burnouts had their place in the social hierarchy. She didn't fit anywhere—too intellectual for the party crowd, too interested in the occult and esoteric for the academic overachievers, too melancholic for the artistic types who at least channeled their emotions into something creative.

Melissa used to believe she was different because she saw deeper truths that others missed. Now she wondered if she was just broken in some fundamental way.

Her phone buzzed again. Not Morgan this time, but a notification from the local news app. Another disappearance in Millridge. The fourth in three weeks. The headline mentioned a "college student"—no name yet. Probably waiting to notify the family.

Melissa sat up, momentarily pulled from her introspection. The disappearances had been the talk of the town, sprouting all manner of theories from the mundane to the extraordinary. Once, she might have been fascinated by the mystery, diving into research and speculation with her few like-minded friends. Now, she just felt a strange, detached curiosity.

She opened her laptop and began searching for more information. The college student had last been seen near Millridge State Park, just like the others. Local authorities were being careful not to use the term "serial disappearances," but the pattern was obvious to anyone paying attention.

As she scrolled through articles, Melissa felt a strange pull toward the park—a compulsion she couldn't quite explain. She'd always been drawn to liminal spaces, places where boundaries seemed thinner. The park had been a favorite retreat when she needed to think, especially the old pavilion area where fewer people ventured.

The house had grown quiet. Her parents were probably having dinner, respecting her desire to be left alone for once. Morgan would be down there too, likely discussing her concerning behavior in hushed tones.

A sudden decision crystallized in her mind. She would go to the park. Not to the areas cordoned off for the investigation, but to her usual spot—the old stone bench near the lesser-used eastern entrance. Something about being there, especially as evening approached, felt right. Necessary, even.

Melissa changed into black jeans and a dark sweater, pulled on her boots, and grabbed her jacket. She moved quietly down the hallway and stairs, then slipped out the back door without announcing her departure. They'd notice eventually, but she didn't have the energy for the inevitable questions.

The crisp October air felt good against her face as she walked. Millridge was settling into evening routines—lights coming on in houses, families gathering for dinner, stores closing for the night. Normal lives unfolding in predictable patterns, completely unaware of the emptiness that seemed to yawn beneath the surface of everything.

As Melissa approached the park, the crowds thinned. Most people were avoiding the area now, spooked by the disappearances. Yellow police tape marked off sections near the western entrance, but the eastern path remained open, forgotten by all but the most dedicated nature enthusiasts.

The park felt different tonight. Usually, it was a place of solitude that brought some measure of peace. Now there was an expectancy in the air, as if the trees themselves were holding their breath, waiting for something to happen.

Melissa followed the familiar path, dried leaves crunching beneath her boots. The setting sun cast long shadows through the trees, painting the forest in shades of amber and deep purple. She reached her favorite bench and sat down, exhaling slowly.

The quiet was absolute. No birds calling, no distant voices, not even the usual sounds of small animals moving through the underbrush. Just stillness, pressing in from all sides.

"I don't know why I'm here," she said aloud, her voice startling in the silence.

No one answered, of course. That was the problem—there were never any answers, just the same questions circling endlessly in her mind. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she connect? Why did everything that used to matter now feel so pointless?

As darkness settled more firmly among the trees, a subtle shift occurred in the atmosphere. The air grew heavier, almost charged, like the moment before a lightning strike. Melissa felt the hairs on her arms rise beneath her sweater.

She should leave. It was getting dark, and with the recent disappearances, being alone in the park wasn't just rebellious—it was reckless. Yet she remained seated, captivated by the strange energy building around her.

A faint red glow appeared between the trees ahead, so subtle at first that Melissa thought it might be her imagination or a trick of the fading light. But it grew stronger, pulsing with a rhythm that seemed almost... deliberate.

Melissa stood, drawn toward the light despite a growing sense of unease. This was what she'd been looking for, wasn't it? Something real, something beyond the mundane world that had lost all meaning for her.

As she stepped off the path, moving deeper into the trees, the red glow intensified. It wasn't coming from any identifiable source—more like it existed between things, in the spaces where reality seemed less certain.

"Hello?" Melissa called, her voice sounding small and insignificant in the vastness of the darkening forest.

The light pulsed in response, growing brighter. There was intelligence behind it—Melissa felt that with absolute certainty. Not human intelligence, but something older, something that perceived the world in ways she couldn't comprehend.

She should be afraid. Any rational person would turn and run. But the emptiness inside her had grown so vast that even fear couldn't find purchase there. Instead, she felt a terrible, wonderful curiosity.

"What are you?" she whispered, taking another step forward.

The red light expanded suddenly, surrounding her in a cocoon of crimson illumination. Melissa gasped as sensations flooded through her—knowledge, awareness, and perceptions beyond anything she had experienced before.

In that moment of connection, she understood what the light was—a scout, a seeker, a fragment of something vaster. It had been searching for a vessel, evaluating potential candidates throughout Millridge. And now it had found her—someone with the right combination of sensitivity to the unseen and a profound emotional emptiness that left room for something else to enter.

Melissa should have resisted. Some distant part of her recognized the danger, understood that this was an invasion, not a gift. But the promise of filling that terrible void inside her was too compelling to refuse.

"Yes," she said simply, opening herself to the presence.

The transformation was neither painful nor pleasant—it was simply overwhelming. The red light condensed, flowing into her like liquid fire. It filled the empty spaces inside her, not just physically but mentally and spiritually, saturating every cell and thought with its essence.

For a brief, terrifying moment, Melissa was fully aware of what was happening—that she was being subsumed, overwritten by something ancient and alien. Then that awareness fractured, pushed aside but not completely destroyed, as the entity settled into its new home.

When the light faded, Melissa still stood in the forest, outwardly unchanged. But inside, everything was different. Her posture straightened, her movements becoming more precise, more deliberate. The slouch that had characterized her depression was gone, replaced by an unnatural erectness.

She blinked, eyes adjusting to new perceptions. The world looked different now—layered with energies and connections invisible to human sight. She could see the leylines running beneath the surface of Millridge, pulsing with potential power. She could sense the presence of the vessels' enemies—the crystal-wielders who guarded the barriers between worlds.

A raccoon watched warily from beneath a fallen log as she passed. It hissed softly, sensing the wrongness emanating from the human figure. Other creatures scurried away, instinctively fleeing from the predator in their midst.

Melissa paid them no attention. Her focus was shifting, moving beyond the immediate surroundings to the task at hand. This vessel was merely a tool, its memories useful only for basic navigation. The true purpose—surveillance and information gathering—took precedence over all else.

As she emerged onto one of the park's less-used paths, a man appeared around the bend walking a golden retriever. The dog immediately sensed something wrong, stopping abruptly and hackles rising along its back. It began barking frantically, lunging against its leash while trying to back away at the same time.

"Buddy! What's gotten into you?" The man struggled to control the agitated animal, looking between his normally friendly dog and the teenage girl on the path. "Sorry about that," he called to Melissa, embarrassment clear in his voice. "He's usually so friendly."

Melissa's head turned with unnatural, mechanical precision. Her eyes fixed on the man with cold calculation, studying this human's reaction while noting the animal's more perceptive response.

"Animals are more perceptive than humans," she said, her voice tonally correct but emotionally flat. "They see what you cannot."

The man's expression shifted from embarrassment to unease, something in her manner setting off subconscious warning signals. Before he could respond, Melissa continued past them, moving with fluid precision that seemed just slightly wrong for human movement.

The dog's barking intensified as she passed, then gradually faded as she left them behind. The entity made note of this interaction—the need to modulate behavior more carefully around animals that might alert their human companions.

The entity moved through the darkening forest with inhuman precision, no longer following paths but cutting directly across terrain, guided by its perception of the energy flows beneath the surface. Melissa's body was merely transport now, her consciousness a distant prisoner within her own mind.

As night fully descended, the transformed Melissa emerged from the trees at a different point than where she had entered—far from her usual routes home. The entity had no interest in returning to the Altura household. Human dwelling places, family connections, social obligations—these were irrelevant to its mission.

Instead, it began methodically traversing Millridge, following the invisible lines of power that humans had built their town upon without knowing. At each significant junction point, it paused, absorbing information, cataloging energy patterns, and searching for traces of its enemies.

Near midnight, Melissa's form stood motionless at the edge of the college campus, observing the buildings with unnaturally still focus. Several structures showed faint energy signatures suggesting recent presence of the crystal-wielders. The entity committed these locations to memory, establishing a mental map of potential surveillance points.

By the time dawn approached, the entity had covered much of Millridge, moving with tireless efficiency through neighborhoods, commercial districts, and public spaces. It showed no concern for the vessel's physical needs—food, rest, or shelter were secondary to the mission of reconnaissance.

When morning light finally spilled across the eastern horizon, illuminating the town after the entity's night-long survey, Melissa's form had taken position atop a small rise overlooking the downtown area. From this vantage point, it could observe the morning patterns of human movement while remaining relatively inconspicuous.

Her body showed signs of the overnight exertion—clothes dirtied from cross-country travel, hair tangled with bits of forest debris, skin scratched from pushing through underbrush. The vessel would require maintenance eventually, but for now, observation took priority.

As the town came to life below, the entity noted how the energy patterns shifted with human activity. Certain locations brightened with potential as people gathered, creating nodes of concentrated energy. The crystal-wielders would be among them, hiding in plain sight, maintaining their secret vigil against incursions like itself.

Finding them would be the entity's primary task. Identifying them, learning their patterns, discovering their weaknesses—all vital information to report back to Braakanen. The vessel would serve this purpose until it was no longer useful.

Melissa Altura—the depressed, searching teenager who had walked into the forest yesterday evening—was effectively gone. In her place stood something that merely wore her shape, using her form as a tool for a greater purpose that her human mind could never have comprehended.

By mid-morning, when the Altura family would be frantically calling her friends and eventually the police, the entity was already implementing the next phase of its mission—systematic observation of high-traffic areas where the crystal-wielders might reveal themselves through their actions or energy signatures.

The search had begun, and it would not end until every defender of this town had been identified and cataloged—information that would prove crucial for the coming incursion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Chapter!

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