Anders watched it fourteen times. He ran it through every forensic filter he had. No cuts. No CGI. No hidden wires or digital artifacts. The fire left real scorch marks on the floor.
She opened the door.
Then the stained-glass window of the Sacred Heart exploded inward. The Divine Fury
Anders pocketed his phone. He thought about the man’s face, the cracks of brass light, the way his voice had broken. He thought about the seven-year-old boy under the pew, terrified and guilty, who had grown into a man who debunked miracles because he couldn’t bear to believe in them. Anders watched it fourteen times
He stepped closer. The air grew hot.
“I don’t believe in supernatural phenomena,” Anders said. It was his standard opening line. It felt hollow in his mouth. No CGI