The bell chimes.
Soft.
Normal.
Wrong.
I move first—fast.
Clear left.
Then right.
Nothing immediate.
But the air—
It feels off.
The space doesn’t feel empty.
It feels watched.
“Clear front,” I say.
We move deeper.
Toward the back.
That’s where Blaze said the movement was.
I round the corner—
And stop.
The back room glows.
Not from overhead lights.
Candles.
Dozens of them.
Flickering across tables, shelves—casting shadows that move like something alive.
And in the center—
An arrangement.
Wildflowers.
Larger this time.
Carefully placed.
Beautiful.
Intentional.
