A vigorous young man strode toward them between the pews. The scattered groups of parishioners settled into huddled whispers at the outlandish appearance of the combat-ready group. He was tall, athletic and wore casual clothes, with a warm, welcoming smile beaming back at them.

  “Welcome, welcome! Take a load off and grab a seat. Have you come far?” He asked.

  Caught slightly off-guard by the unexpectedly casual appearance and mannerisms, the group were non-plussed for a few seconds, before Arlee took the lead.

  “Thank you very much… Reverend? Apologies for barging in like this, we weren’t sure if there would be anybody here.”

  The young man laughed – an easy, comfortable sound that echoed throughout the interior.

  “Not a Reverend dear lady, though we never know what the future holds, do we? No, Reverend Davidson is indisposed at this moment, though he will be around later on today if you care to rest a while. I am an assistant, helping out with pastoral duties to lighten the load and ensure all are seen and heard. My name is Mark. My I ask what brings you to us today?”

  Matt and Arlee exchanged a glance. They had decided in advance to be cautious with spreading around all the information Kira had confirmed for them.

  “It’s in relation to the strange events that started a couple of months ago, and the… connections that people have developed with specific objects. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

  “Indeed I do.” Mark confirmed, his jovial expression becoming more serious and his voice lowering. “It has been a trying time, and one of great sorrow for many that you see here. Most have come to us for care and comfort after a tragedy of one kind or another. Some have brought with them possessions match what you said.” He looked around before gesturing off to the side. “Let’s grab a chair over there and speak more privately.”

  They moved over to an empty section of pews - away from the others - and sat down. Mark leant back against the wall, first ensuring that no-one would overhear them. As they settled, the group took the chance to introduce themselves.

  “Everyone has their theory about what is happening and what caused it, but the truth is that nobody really knows much about it. We just see the scars left by what came after. When we first saw… evidence of the changes, we started ringing the bells, calling any who wanted shelter. Those you see here…” He paused, sighing. “…well, they were either lucky to make it to us, or were forced into the attempt by whatever darkness invaded their homes.”

  “We’ve heard tell of animals grown to huge size, countryside hunters now threatening human life. We’ve heard the screams on the night air. Some right on the far edge of hearing, while others…” He took a deep breath. “…others were heart-breakingly close. In the day’s light we’ve looked around, but never found those who might were close by.”

  “We’ve had very similar experiences – both what we’ve heard and encountered personally. We’re part of a small group of families in Ruscombe, banded together and helping each other get through all this cr… all this Weirdness.” Alan said with a nod at Matt. “We were able to fight off the things which came to our doors, and we’ve managed to find out a few things which have helped us get by. One of those is what brought us here.”

  Mark gestured for him to continue, turning to face Matt as he picked up the telling.

  “The items that people formed this connection with – I expect you’ve either seen or had a similar experience as us. Strange effects, seemingly… magical?” He said, looking questioningly at their host.

  Mark nodded his understanding. “I know what you mean. Most people here brought something with them. The torch that old Jacob over there has…” He nodded toward an elderly gentleman napping in his chair. “…is still working, despite nothing else electrical doing so anymore. There are some jumpers that keep people warm, some gardening gloves that are tougher than usual, that sort of thing.”

  He looked the group over. “You look prepared to take on whatever gets in the way. What sort of thing have you seen?”

  Alan raised his staff. “My stick for one – it’s been a literal lifesaver. There’s a couple of kids who can still play some video games together, a scrubbing brush…” They grinned at Frank’s indignation around his bonded item. “…and there’s a family whose phones still let them chat to each other. Whatever that person was holding when this all kicked off.”

  “None of the people I’ve spoken to have been able to share their item with anyone else though. They only seem to work for that person. I’m not sure what you hoped to find coming here – if it’s about those items only?” Mark looked curious, but guarded. As if waiting for something more before revealing some secret, Matt thought.

  “We have found that when holding these items, there are… places… that we can see, and interact with. Like small, faint lightning bolts – some in different colours. We’ve been able to connect to some of these, and it seemed to make the connection to our items stronger. More effective at whatever their purpose is.”

  “My stick hits harder.” Alan confirmed.

  Mark nodded in interest. “That explains something we have been wondering about. It’s not my place to say…” He said at their eager looks. “…but the Reverend should speak to you about it later on. So, is that why you came to us – you’re looking for these… these lightning things?”

  “The ones we have found were all located somewhere of great importance to whoever found them.” Matt said, then took Arlee’s hand in his. “My wife and I were married here, so it seemed like a good chance to find another of these… places. We were hoping to visit, see if that was the case – and connect to it if it was.”

  Mark hesitating before asking. “Would doing so take anything away from someone else who had… connected to one of these things.”

  Arlee shook her head. “We don’t think so. There are a couple of… people back in our group who have both connected to the same place. We’ve also found them quite close to each other, but for different people. Wherever something truly important or significant to that person happened, that seems to be where these things take shape.”

  Mark was lost in thought for a few moments, then came to a decision. “Why don’t we take a walk around? We can see if your theory is correct.” He rose and beckoned them to follow.

  Arlee reached into her bag and pulled out Matt’s small loom. As she handed it to him, Matt immediately felt a familiar sensation and his head whipped toward the far end of the aisle. A set of steps led into the sanctuary around the altar.

  The steps he and Arlee had stood on to exchange their vows.

  Even at this distance, the crackling, coiling lance of energy was clear to him. In the past he had needed to be close by to even notice a slight distortion. But now the anomaly called to him, heralding its presence. As if eager to form the bond with its creator, the slight orange tinge to the locus seemed to pulse – stronger and stronger – as he drew closer.

  “Matt, is there…?” Arlee left the rest unsaid. He nodded confirmation as they approached. Closing to within a few steps, Arlee gasped. “I see it! Right where we stood….” Her voice trailed off as she choked back a sniffle.

  Mark followed their eyes but saw nothing. Matty and Alan looked on from a couple of rows back, and as Matt made to move forward, the big man spoke.

  “Steady on mate, after what happened last time, you might want to get ready before it knocks you for six.”

  Matt paused, his hand starting to reach forward. There was an almost tangible pull toward the locus – less a force than an impulse not of his own making. A desire… a need to join with this entity and grow his power….

  A hand clamped down on his arm as it unconsciously inched forward. For a moment Matt struggled - not recognising this new impediment – before his mind cleared and he gave way, stepping back from the locus as Alan’s grip held him steady.

  “You good Matt?” His friend asked. “You spaced out there for a moment.”

  “Yes, yes, sorry Al!” Matt sputtered, feeling shame at his reaction to his friend’s concern. “It’s like a pull coming from it, the first time I’ve felt it.”

  Arlee stepped next to him, a gentle hand on his arm calming his nerves. “Maybe we should leave this one then? We don’t need it, do we?”

  Matt sighed, then turned to face her. “I don’t think we can afford to turn down the opportunity here. Being able to make more patches, more powerful patches – that has been key to our getting through the rats, the dog – a lot of stuff. Being able to carry more, with your…” He looked around nervously, becoming aware of their audience. “…that was essential as well, otherwise we’d never have been able to deal with the nest.”

  He took Arlee’s hands in his own, looking into her eyes. “I need to do this, so all the awful things don’t happen to you, to Kira – both the girls.” He glanced up at Alan and Matty, standing by. “To all our friends, who stood with us.”

  Arlee gave a resigned nod, squeezing his hands. “Let’s get this over with then.” With that, she reached out and grasped the locus, eyes tightly closed and teeth gritted as the flash hit.

  Mark and a few of the other parishioners looked on in shock as Arlee’s back arched, her face briefly locked in a rictus of pain. The young man stepped forward, instinctively catching her stumble, even as Matt did the same on her other side.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “What was that?” Mark asked breathlessly, as both men helped Arlee sit down on the carpeted step.

  “Each one of these places you connect to feels like grabbing a lightning bolt, just for a split second.” Matt explained, rubbing Arlee’s back as she got her breathing under control. “Each extra one hits a bit harder than the last. That was her second.”

  He squatted down next to Arlee. “How are you doing, Lovely?”

  She smiled wanly but seemed mostly recovered. “You weren’t joking, were you? That hurt a lot. I’m not looking forward to the one at our house now.”

  Matt blinked, momentarily surprised. “Ah, I remember, the one… upstairs. You decided to leave it for later, didn’t you?” She nodded.

  “Well, at least it’s in the safest, most comfortable place – if you decide to do it.” He said, not wanting to put her under any pressure. He was curious to see the impact her second attunement had on her bag, but didn’t feel the same drive to expand the carrying capacity as he did with his patch’s efficacy.

  “Well, if my lady can face this with a… kinda smile? I guess?” Matt smirked at his wife’s glare. “How can I do any less?” With that, he sat on the step, reached up and clasped his fingers around the orange-tinged distortion.

  Like a perceptual bomb exploding, his senses were flooded with a myriad of sensations. Shocking his consciousness that turned the world white, every nerve on fire. He could feel…something… familiar, but unrecognised… all around. Points of energy, scattered near and far. Most glowed dully, but a few were brighter – one in particular glowing fiercely, though this was perceived not through vision, but some sense-defying explanation.

  There was a sensation of movement – as if the whole of existence had shifted position while he remained perfectly still. Something blocked this shift, his very being pressing against it momentarily before retreating from the unmoving force.

  The fire engulfing him raged, but a cool sensation gently rested on his forehead. The absence of sound… twisted suddenly and a roaring filled his ears. Then, as if from a great distance, there were words.

  “Come back to us.”

  The roaring stopped, gone in the next instance. The pain vanished, as if it had never been. Vision returned, coalescing into a kindly old face, wispy white hair and keen eyes boring into his.

  “Come back to us.”

  “Drink this.” The older man said, handing Matt a chipped mug of water.

  Blinking, Matt mutely took the mug and gulped the liquid down. Its cool purity helped banish the clouds from his head, and quieted the early pangs of hunger.

  “We generally have people come to us seeking reprieve from torment, not looking to find it here.” The old man said wryly, stiffly rising to his feet and sitting down on a nearby pew.

  “Sorry about that.” Alan apologised. “We can’t take him anywhere, big drama queen.”

  Matt tried a glare, but still felt weak, as if he had run all day.

  “You don’t strike me as an attention-seeker, and you seemed to have some idea of what you were letting yourself in for. Was it worth it?”

  Matt finally found his voice. “I hope so… Reverend Davidson?” The old man nodded. “It should make a variety of things easier, and safer for our group.”

  The Reverend nodded, rising to join Mark, bending his head and exchanging some whispered words. Matt looked to his friends, noting looks of worry for him, but something approaching awe at the priest.

  “Still in one piece, old Matt?” His younger namesake asked with a grin. “That did not look fun.”

  ‘Really-not-that-old’ Matt accepted Alan’s hand, pulling himself up off the floor, reassuring Arlee that he was fine now. He didn’t understand the differences between this and the other attunements. They had been purely pain, very temporary. This had felt much more extended, and a far more complex sensory experience. He closed his eyes to try and recapture the feelings, the sensations, cataloguing them for further examination.

  “The Reverend, he… he did something… it looked like he took away all the pain – brought you back to your senses, just with a touch.” Arlee said, wonder in her voice and face. At this, the Reverend turned back to them and spoke once again.

  “It is said that the Lord moves in mysterious ways. I have faith that this is one of them. On the first day of danger, I had been tending the altar and awoke to find myself able to feel this grand old place.” He looked around the cavernous hall fondly. “I recall a feeling like you described as I laid hands on the altar, though not as extreme as you just subjected yourself to.”

  “It seems the Lord has chosen to bless this place, making it a sanctuary against darkness, fear and pain. Although we have heard the tidings of all three from the surrounding area, within our boundary walls no threat has yet set foot. The candles burn – eternal and untended, the font provides us with water and sustenance. Maybe as miraculous as when the Son walked on the surface of the lake, or turned water into wine at Cana.”

  “Somehow, the grace of this place can also be passed to others – to our visitors and friends.” He indicated the silent observers sat around the many pews. “We have been able to bring such comfort as can be found after the horrors they experienced, and it helped you recover from your travails. Truly, His hand rests gently upon us all in here. I pray it does so to all others as well.”

  Elsewhere, the presence returned to its silent observation, the extraordinary surge it had detected now diminishing. Like a volcano not yet erupting, but threatening, promising…

  “Is there precedent?” Another presence enquired.

  “In the vastness of all?” The observer asked. “Of course. There is very little truly unique that can be observed. It is, however, unusual.”

  “What action is dictated?” The second presence asked intensely.

  “None at this time. We continue to watch, to record and report.”

  The observer turned back toward its previous focus; two younger and one older example of the primary species of this world. There seemed to be other entities nearby also, but somehow hidden for now.

  The observer found this troubling - nothing should be concealed from it - but did not reveal his discontent. Agents of the Arcanic Council were not known for their discernment, nor for their acceptance of any perceived threat to their missions…

  “How do you both feel now?” Carry asked, sitting on the edge of the bed as Kira and Lara rested. “I know I promised to watch you while the others were away, but I was hoping it wouldn’t be quite like this.”

  Lara’s recovery was proceeding reasonably well, but she had pushed herself too hard and was now hiding her eyes under a cool flannel, trying to stop her head from splitting.

  Kira had – with Carry’s reluctant agreement – found a way to forge a deeper connection with her book. As if the encyclopaedia itself was a locus, she had fallen into a point of meditative focus which swiftly morphed into the familiar jolt of pain as the book seemed to… give in to her wish? Her desire?

  Luckily – remembering Lara’s response to the pain of her first attunement – Kira had chosen to do this downstairs in Carry’s presence only. Once the initial shock had passed she felt weak and shaky, asking to be taken upstairs to lie next to her friend. Also, having Nala and Dragon catnapping in the room was added motivation, though the two Shadowprowlers seemed strangely restless, heads twitching toward unseen distractions.

  “Sorry Aunty Carry.” The girls chorused, before dissolving into short, restrained giggles.

  “You girls, honestly.” Carry huffed with a smile, rising stiffly from the bed. “Rest now, no more experiments, no more shenanigans. You’ve both done enough today.”

  Mark walked the group to the gate in the church’s boundary wall. Although curious about this seemingly capable and well-prepared group, he felt uncomfortable seeing them off into unknown danger.

  “Good luck in your travels.” He said as they mounted their bikes. “If you’re ever passing by, please do visit with any news of the village. If you find any others, please let them know that refuge can be found here.” He turned to check behind himself to make sure no-one was listening in, before jokingly adding. “If they can bring coffee with them, they’ll be doubly welcome!”

  He waved as they rode off, scanning the area around the church, before turning back toward the main building.

  I wonder what he meant by ‘more powerful patches’?

  “Do you think we should have left a set with them?” Alan asked as they cautiously made their way through the quiet village. “That’s what we’ve been doing when we’ve found others.”

  “Honestly, I don’t think they needed them.” Matt replied. “Whatever the Reverend did turned the whole church into his personal connected item. Light, heating – did you notice it was really comfortable inside? Endless water, and nothing nasty able to get in. It makes you think whether there might be something to his faith explanation, instead of everything being about the Weirdness – the Overlay.”

  The group fell quiet as they made their way toward Upper Wargrave, and Matt’s parent’s old house. None of them were particularly religious, and the implications of this consideration were staggering. Were the sanctuary’s protections and provisions magical… or miraculous?

  Speaking to Mark and the Reverend for a while until Matt had felt fully back to normal hadn’t brought any great discoveries to light. It was interesting getting other people’s perception of events, but the group in the church were so isolated within their protective shell that there was nothing significant they could describe about the threats in the village. One couple recalled fleeing a familiar group of rats on their bikes, as their neighbourhood went through a similar grisly experience as the Tappers and Brands had on the first night. Another told of seeing the massive red kites swooping down, soaring back upwards with struggling figures in their talons. One family had huddled fearfully in their car while overgrown squirrels perched on the bonnet and roof, staring eerily with black eyes at the trembling humans within.

  Wargrave was a small village and it was only a matter of minutes before Matt once again felt a pull on the coiling energy within him. Excitedly, he picked up the pace, turning the corner into the tree-lined road where he had spent much of his youth. Nostalgia flooded through him as they dismounted and followed him to the end of a sloped driveway.

  The broken fa?ade of his childhood home was a by-now familiar sight of smashed and splintered windows. The door had been caved in as if by a battering ram, and holes were ripped into the roof, smashed tiles littering the ground before them. Looking around, what could be seen of other houses showed similar signs of violence.

  “It wasn’t a rat did that to the door, and probably not the roof.” Alan murmured, voice low as he scanned the surrounding area intently. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know – something strong. Maybe another overgrown dog?”

  Alan didn’t look convinced. “And the roof?”

  Matt shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. There were plenty of owls around here in the past. Maybe a kite, trying to get at who…whatever was inside.”

  “Err, guys. You might want to take a look at this.” Matty said, his voice shaky and low.

  They hurried over, to where he had roamed around the grassy lawn in front of the house. He pointed wordlessly at the ground. Scattered in and around the treeline between this house and the next, were unmistakeable footprints.

  Enormous footprints.

  Sunk deep into the turf they could have been human, were it not for the size. Easily eighteen inches from heel to toe and significantly wider than regular proportions. They dwarfed even Alan’s boots as he compared them side by side.

  “I do not want to meet whatever made these. Did the cave trolls decide to set up shop here now?” Matty said, his eyes darting around wildly. “I say we get the hell outta here.”

  Alan and Arlee looked at Matt, unspoken questions clear in their eyes.

  “We’re here now, we might as well finish what we came for.” Matt said after a few moments’ thought. “I can feel the locus… calling to me? That’s what it feels like – it’s weird.”

  “What isn’t, now?” Alan sighed. “All right, let’s get you all magicked up and then we can split.”

  After pushing through the broken door and stashing the bikes in a side room, the group moved carefully up the stairs. There was no sound within, just a faint scrape of tree branches against windows in the light breeze.

  Scenes from his childhood played themselves in Matt’s mind. Sitting with a book. Playing football in the back garden. A family meal around the kitchen table. These reminiscences were gradually drowned out by the silent song of the locus. It called to him ever more powerfully as he took the final few steps and entered his old bedroom.

  His family had sold the property many years ago, but recent events had left it in much the same chaotic mess he had always done his best to preserve, much to his mother’s dislike. The scattered clothes, computer peripherals and general bric-a-brac gave it a lived-in feel, but there were no signs of struggle. It could have been just another room in any house they visited.

  But in the corner, the locus pulsed like a beacon. Light green, the sharp-edged distortion reacted to his presence, and without thought he reached for it.