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Diana remained at the window, watching the police cruiser pull away from the curb. She still clutched the quartz crystal, its cool surface now warmed by her grip.

They knew. Somehow, these supposed officers knew about Midnight Voice, about her past life at Astral Waves. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she stepped back from the window. The crystals on the sill seemed to pulse with warning energy, their usually comforting presence now screaming danger.

She called out to her employee, Janet Roff.

“Janet, fetch me a bundle of white sage,” she said.

Janet hurriedly complied.

“Protection circle,” she muttered, rushing to the center of the store with the sage in hand. “Need to cleanse the energies. They’ve contaminated everything.”

She lit the sage with shaking hands. Smoke billowed around her as she moved through the space, waving the smudge stick in elaborate patterns. The familiar ritual brought a momentary sense of calm, but the underlying panic remained, vibrating through her body like a discordant note.

“Cleanse this space of deception and lies,” she chanted, her voice growing stronger. “Shield these walls from prying eyes. Return to me my sanctuary.”

The smoke curled around her silver hair, catching in the feathers and beads woven there. As she completed her circuit of the store, Diana placed the still-smoking sage in an abalone shell and set it on the counter. Her breathing had steadied somewhat, but her mind raced.

They weren’t ordinary police officers. The woman—Jenna Graves—had an energy Diana had rarely encountered.

Split, fractured, as if existing in multiple planes simultaneously.

And she had known about Midnight Voice. That information wasn’t public; Diana had been careful to separate that identity from her current life.

Only a handful of people knew the connection.

Government agents, perhaps? The pattern fit.

For years, Diana had known that certain branches of the government monitored frequencies that could alter consciousness.

Astral Waves had come too close to revealing truths about sound and interdimensional communication.

That’s why they’d been shut down in 1998—not for the mundane broadcasting violations cited officially, but because they were accessing knowledge too dangerous to share.

Diana moved to the front door and flipped the “Open” sign to “Closed.” She drew the blinds on all the windows with methodical precision, transforming the store into a dimly lit cocoon. Even with the sage cleansing, she felt exposed, vulnerable. Her gaze darted to the phone behind the counter.

Zephyr would know what to do. Zephyr always knew.

She had never met him in person. Their connection had begun with a phone call three years ago.

By the end of that call, Diana had felt a kinship with the mysterious caller that transcended ordinary connection.

He understood. He knew about the work she had done as Midnight Voice, about the frequencies that could pierce the veil between worlds.

Over time, their conversations had deepened. Zephyr revealed himself as a guardian of sorts—someone who monitored those who monitored others. He had warned her about surveillance, about people who might come asking questions about her past. And he had promised protection when the time came.

Diana picked up the phone and dialed the number she knew by heart. It rang three times before connecting.

“I need you,” she said without preamble, her voice quavering. “They’ve come.”

“Diana.” Zephyr’s voice was exactly as she remembered it—deep, resonant, with an almost hypnotic cadence. “Tell me what happened.”

She sank onto the stool behind the counter, suddenly exhausted. “Two police officers just left my store. Or at least that’s what they said they were. A Sheriff Graves and Deputy Hawkins. They knew about Midnight Voice, Zephyr. They knew my radio name from twenty-five years ago.”

“Breathe, Diana,” Zephyr instructed, his tone soothing. “What else did they ask about?”

“They offered protection, said they’d have officers watching the store. I refused, of course. I told them I had you.”

There was a brief silence on the line. When Zephyr spoke again, his voice had taken on a new urgency.

“You were right to call me. The timing of this visit is no coincidence. First the threatening email, now law enforcement asking about your past. Dark forces are closing in.”

Diana’s free hand went to one of her pendants—a small vial containing herbs and crystals that Zephyr had instructed her to create as a personal protection talisman.

“What should I do?” she whispered.

“I think the time has come, Diana,” Zephyr said, his voice both gentle and firm. “We need to meet face to face at long last. You need to seek shelter where it all started.”

A weight seemed to lift from Diana’s shoulders. She had been anticipating this moment, preparing for it in small ways. “The station. Where we broadcast from. You think I should go back there?”

“Yes. The building has been abandoned since the station closed—no one will think to look for you there. You remember our contingency plan? About traveling undetected?”

“Yes,” Diana said, glancing toward the back room of her shop. “I’ve maintained my disguise kit, just as you suggested. I have the short brown wig, plain clothes, glasses. Nothing like my usual appearance.”

“Good.” Zephyr’s approval warmed her. “That disguise has worked for you before. You’ll need to use it now. There will likely be plainclothes officers—or at least people posing as officers—watching the store despite your refusal of protection.”

Diana’s heart skipped. “They’re already outside?”

“Almost certainly. But they won’t be looking for a plain, middle-aged woman in unremarkable clothing. Your usual appearance is quite... distinctive.”

Despite her fear, Diana smiled. Her carefully cultivated image—the flowing kaftans, the adorned silver hair, the multiple layers of jewelry—was as much a part of her business as the crystals she sold. The severe bob wig and beige clothing she kept for anonymous errands was its perfect opposite.

“I can take the back exit through the alley,” she said, planning aloud. “There’s a bus stop three blocks south that runs to the old industrial district where the station was located.”

“Excellent. I’ll meet you there.”

Diana’s breath caught. “You’ll come in person? After all this time?”

“This is the moment we’ve prepared for,” Zephyr said, his voice now filled with what sounded like anticipation. “It’s time we combined our knowledge of the frequencies. Together, we can finally complete what Astral Waves began—accessing the vibrations that allow communion between dimensions.”

Tears sprang to Diana’s eyes. For years, she had carried the burden of knowledge about sound’s true power—how certain frequencies could alter consciousness, could even thin the membrane between worlds. To have someone who not only believed but understood was a gift beyond measure.

“I’ll leave immediately,” she decided. “I have some emergency cash in the safe, enough to sustain me for a while.”

“Take only what you absolutely need,” Zephyr cautioned. “And Diana—leave your phone behind. They can track you through it.”

She hadn’t considered that. “Of course. I’ll leave it at the bus stop.”

“Good. Now go, quickly. Call me from a payphone once you’re away from the store to confirm you’ve departed safely. I’ll be waiting at the station.”

“Thank you, Zephyr.” Diana’s voice nearly broke with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” he promised. “We’re connected through frequencies most people can’t even perceive. Now go, before they establish a tighter surveillance perimeter.”

The call ended, and Diana sat for a moment in the silent store. The sage had burned down to ash in the abalone shell, its cleansing work complete. She felt calmer now, purposeful. With confident movements, she went to the back room and unlocked a cabinet that held her personal belongings.

“I’m leaving, Janet,” she said to her employee. “I’m going back to where it started.”

“When will you be back?” Janet asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe never. But I’ve got to slip past those people outside who are watching me.”

The wig sat on a Styrofoam head—a simple brown bob without any of the adornments she usually wore. She removed the feathers and beads from her own hair, gathering the long silver strands into a tight knot at the base of her neck. The wig fit snugly, transforming her appearance instantly.

From a drawer, she extracted plain black-framed glasses and a beige sweater set. The transformation continued as she removed her layered necklaces and rings, replacing them with a single modest pendant—still protective, but unremarkable.

Diana looked at herself in the small mirror hanging on the wall. A stranger looked back—an ordinary woman who would attract no second glances. She nodded at her reflection with satisfaction.

The safe behind a display of large amethyst geodes contained her emergency funds—five thousand in cash, carefully bundled. She took it all, along with a small notebook containing contacts and information too sensitive to keep digitally.

“One last thing,” she murmured, returning to the main shop area.

From a special display case, she selected specific crystals—a large piece of black tourmaline for protection, clear quartz for amplification, selenite for purification.

These, along with the cash and notebook, went into a nondescript canvas tote bag, nothing like the elaborately beaded bags she usually carried.

Diana took one final look around her store—the sacred space she had created and maintained for over a decade. The crystals seemed to pulse farewell, the gemstones glinting in the dim light. She wondered if she would ever return.

“Goodbye, Janet,” she said to her employee.

She slipped through the back door into the alley, leaving behind the life she had built—just another unremarkable figure moving through the evening, invisible to anyone who might be watching.

“The frequencies are calling,” she whispered. “Midnight Voice must answer.”