CH.22

Ellis Grady's apartment was quiet, but not in the way it had been before. Ever since the night of the violent glow and rhythmic hum that seemed to reverberate through the alley, he'd found himself unable to focus. The forgotten notebooks scattered across his desk were left untouched, their pages curling at the edges from the humidity. His window, once a backdrop for idle observations, had become his portal to the mysteries unfolding just a few feet away.

The days since that night had passed in a blur of restless energy. Celeste had come and gone, her movements quick and purposeful. She no longer lingered in the hallway or exchanged fleeting smiles with neighbors. She was a woman on a mission, and whatever she was chasing seemed to consume her entirely. But Ellis couldn't shake the feeling that he was part of her story now, even if only as a silent observer.

---

That evening, the glow returned.

Ellis had almost given up on trying to decipher its meaning. He had spent hours after the first incident sketching diagrams, jotting down equations, even attempting to recreate the patterns he thought he'd seen. But nothing came of it—not clarity, not insight, just a deepening sense of unease. And now, as the light flickered against the curtains, stronger and more erratic than ever, Ellis felt the same shiver crawl down his spine.

The hum followed, low and steady at first, then rising in intensity until it vibrated through the floorboards. He leaned closer to the window, his fingers gripping the sill as he tried to make sense of the movements within Celeste's apartment. Her silhouette passed in front of the curtains, her gestures sharp and deliberate. She was speaking—no, shouting—but the words were swallowed by the hum.

Ellis bit his lip, torn between the urge to knock on her door and the overwhelming sense that he wasn't meant to know what was happening. He didn't even notice that his notebook had slipped to the floor until the sharp sound of its spine hitting the hardwood brought him out of his trance.

---

The hum stopped suddenly, leaving the alley in oppressive silence. The glow dimmed, fading into faint flickers before disappearing completely. Ellis sat frozen at his desk, his heart pounding as he stared at the now-dark window. Whatever had happened, it was done—at least for now.

He didn't move for what felt like hours, his mind racing with questions he couldn't answer. But as the darkness stretched on, an idea began to take shape. He needed to know more. Celeste's mystery was no longer just a curiosity—it had become a fixation.

Ellis reached for his notebook, flipping through the pages until he found the sketches of the patterns he'd seen. His hand hovered over the pen for a moment before he began scribbling notes, connecting dots that didn't yet exist. He wasn't sure what he was chasing, but he knew it was bigger than him.

---

The next day, Ellis found himself lingering outside Celeste's apartment. Her door was closed, the faint hum of machinery barely audible through the walls. He considered knocking, but his nerve failed him. Instead, he retreated to his own apartment, pacing the floor as he tried to piece together what little he knew.

The patterns—the glow, the hum—were unlike anything he'd encountered in his years as a systems analyst. They weren't random; he was sure of that. But their purpose eluded him. The name Ethan had surfaced again in his thoughts, its presence a puzzle he couldn't solve. If Celeste was chasing answers, maybe he could help her. Maybe they were both chasing the same thing.

That evening, Ellis did something he hadn't done in years. He opened his laptop, pulled up an old program he'd developed for identifying patterns in chaotic systems, and began feeding his notes into it. The program worked slowly, its algorithms grinding through the data as Ellis watched, his fingers tapping nervously against the keyboard.

Hours passed before the program produced its results. Ellis's eyes widened as he stared at the screen, his breath hitching as the patterns came into focus. They weren't just random shapes—they were coordinates.