The bulb hums. A sound Johnny knows too well — not the sixty-cycle hum of a cheap fixture, but something lower. A frequency that settles in the bones. He hasn't touched his guitar in three minutes. That's a record. On a normal night, his hands would be moving, finding chords, filling silence. But this silence wants to be filled by something else. From the wings, a draft moves across the stage. The fog doesn't swirl — it advances. A single front, like a tide. Johnny watches it reach his boots, curl around the scuffed leather, keep going. He glances toward the back of the theater. The emergency exit glows faintly. Not from the red sign — from something behind the glass. Out in the trees, Bob pulls Petunia closer. Her fur is damp with condensation. She doesn't growl. She doesn't shake. She watches the stage with the stillness of a hunting dog, except there's nothing to hunt. Nothing visible. Johnny's phone buzzes in his pocket. He doesn't check it. Instead, he speaks into the empty theater: "If you're going to show yourself, do it. I've got a show tomorrow and I need sleep." The fog around his ankles shifts. For a fraction of a second, it forms something like a hand. Then it dissolves. The bulb goes dark. Johnny stands in total black for three heartbeats. Then the light returns — but it's not the bulb. It's coming from under the stage. A pattern of symbols, glowing amber through the floorboards, pulsing in sequence. Bob sees the light from the treeline. Petunia whines once — a sound that means I know that pattern. Johnny drops to one knee. Presses his palm to the warm wood. The symbols don't burn. They settle under his skin like a fingerprint. He stands up slowly. Picks up his guitar. Walks off stage without looking back. The fog stays. The bulb hums again — but now it's in tune with something bigger. Bob whispers: "He saw it." Petunia turns and starts walking home. Bob follows. Neither runs. There's no point. Whatever just happened, it's already inside the valley. The only question is who finds the next piece first.