Fulgrim places his cheek over the crack where the bees disappeared. The crack is miniscule; certainly, had there been no bees buzzing about, the crack would be nigh invisible to the naked eye. The masonry adjoining the flagstones where the crack is seems old and crumbly. The crack looks to be the natural by-product of time, more than the purposeful effort of a creature or an object. Curious, Fulgrim places a hand over the crack, trying to feel for a breeze. Nothing. The air is still.
The bee on Father Spec's shoulder flits away, back to its hive.
MAKE INTELLIGENCE (NATURE) CHECKS, ALL OF YOU.