You descend into the basement of the funeral home. The thick, sweet smell of ozone hits your nose before you set foot on the bottom step. You follow the smell to a broom closet at the end of the hall. Opening the door, you see shelves and tools tipped over, the closet reduced to a mess. But from beneath everything, you see a faint lavender light, almost washed out by the light of the hallway behind you.
You kneel down and clear some of the objects, revealing the concrete floor of the closet. The floor is covered in a spiderweb of cracks, and you spend some time looking at the light seeping up through those lines. As you run your fingers along the cracks you can feel the hairs on your arm stand up.
Something is happening here, but you don't know what to make of it quite yet. Perhaps if you come back and check on it later?