Katriane and I sat in a small, cozy breakroom reserved for employees. At this hour, the place was empty—no surprise, considering it wasn’t even close to lunchtime yet. We sipped our coffee from paper cups and spoke quietly.

  “How did you and Lizzie become friends?” I asked.

  Katriane gave a wistful smile.

  “One evening, I’d forgotten my umbrella, and a downpour hit. It was late autumn—already freezing. I’m the type who catches every cold, even as a kid. So I stood there under the building’s awning, staring at the rain, not daring to run for the glide. Then Lizzie showed up. She was still full of energy, like the weather didn’t touch her at all. She saw me hesitating and offered me a ride. Her position came with a company vex. I didn’t say no—wasn’t eager to get sick again.”

  “That was kind of her,” I said.

  “She is kind. I mean... she was,” Katriane corrected herself softly. “Lizzie helped me out more than once. A ride here, a loan there. Don’t believe what the harpies say—Lizzie was a sweetheart. Stunning, smart, but never arrogant about it. A lot of the men here tried their luck despite the no-dating rule, but she always shut it down politely. The harpies hated that even more—started all those rumors. Especially about her and Sevrin. I assume you’ve heard.”

  I nodded. “Your coworkers called him Lizzie’s lover.”

  Katriane snorted. “Of course they did. Truth is, they knew each other from university. That friendship carried over. But please don’t assume that it was Sevrin who got Lizzie the job. I’ve seen her file—top of her class, stellar marks, awards. She earned her spot. Getting into our company through connections is nearly impossible. Eider doesn’t tolerate that. All he cares about is efficiency. He banned workplace relationships, but never thought other kinds of conflict might be just as toxic.”

  “So there really wasn’t anything romantic between Lizzie and Sevrin?” I asked.

  “Not that I ever saw. We weren’t close, not best friends, but I never got that vibe. When Lizzie started dating her fiancé, she was glowing. And Sevrin got along with him fine. No tension.”

  “Was Lizzie in noticeable conflict with anyone recently?”

  “Nothing major. The usual office crap. The harpies talked trash, she smiled and moved on. She always had more important things to do. Well... the only big mess I remember was Gwion Bran’s dismissal. That was rough. I wouldn’t be shocked if he held a grudge. But that was a while ago. Why lash out now?”

  “I see,” I said, taking another sip of coffee.

  Katriane looked down at her cup, then back up at me.

  “Could I ask you for a favor? If it’s not too much—please let me know when you catch who did this thing to Lizzie. It would help to know that someone paid for this. I was even a little jealous of her, you know? And now… now there’s no more sunny Lizzie.”

  She sighed bitterly and drank the rest of her coffee in silence. Katriane fell silent, her grief settling into the quiet between us. I was about to thank her when a tall young man in a pale suit entered the café and approached us.

  “Good afternoon. Are you with the Enclave? About Lizzie?” he asked, glancing at me, then nodding to the HR clerk.

  “Yes. I’m Alice Lamard. And you are?”

  “Sevrin Laurec,” he introduced himself. “I was Lizzie’s closest friend. Please—can you tell me what happened? I only found out yesterday, here at work. I tried calling Ariana in the evening, but she was hysterical—mumbling something about Olaf being the killer. Is that true?”

  As he spoke, I studied him. Striking features, steely eyes, blond hair tied neatly back in a low ponytail. Broad shoulders, trim figure. His suit was tailored, expensive. He looked like the kind of man who was rarely short on female attention. Strange, then, that he and Lizzie had only been friends. But then again, stranger things happened…

  “The investigation is ongoing,” I said evenly. “Lisbeth’s fiancé is under observation, but it’s too early for conclusions. Please, have a seat and we can talk.”

  I motioned toward an empty chair, then turned to the young woman beside me. “Katriane, if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with Master Laurec privately. We’ll talk again if anything comes to mind.”

  “Of course, Alice. Thank you.” She gave me a polite nod and slipped out.

  Sevrin poured himself a coffee from the large self-heating carafe and sat across from me.

  “I was in shock when I heard. My poor Lizzie…” His voice caught. “She told me about the baby on Friday. And now—this. I only came in to work today because I hoped to speak with someone from the EAA and find out what actually happened.”

  “Let’s take it from the beginning,” I said gently. “When did you last see her?”

  “Friday. We usually had lunch together at a little tavern nearby, and that day was no different. She was glowing—told me she was pregnant and planned to share the news with Olaf that evening.”

  I hesitated a moment, then decided to share a piece of what I knew.

  “He didn’t take it well. They argued. He ran.”

  Sevrin’s expression darkened.

  “I expected more from him. Lizzie had said she was taking Monday off—wanted to spend a long weekend with him to celebrate. I thought she’d tell me all about it on Tuesday. And then… yesterday came. They told us she was gone. When I spoke with Ariana, she was barely coherent.”

  “She is in deep shock,” I said. “Grief can cloud reason. The claim about Olaf is premature—we’re still sorting through the evidence.”

  Sevrin leaned forward slightly. “How was Lizzie killed?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t share that. But let’s talk about Lisbeth. How long have you known her?”

  “We met years ago, at the Vraveil University of Economics. I was in my final year when she started. There’s a mentorship program—senior students run practical sessions for the juniors. I happened to teach one of Liz’s groups.”

  He smiled faintly at the memory.

  “She always listened so intently. Asked thoughtful questions. I helped her study a few times, and we just… clicked. What I admired most was that she never coasted on her looks. Lizzie took her study and her work seriously. She wasn’t like the other girls, daydreaming about marrying rich. Lizzie wanted something real.”

  “Were you ever romantically involved?” I asked.

  He blinked. “No. I was dating someone else back then—very passionately, I might add. And Lizzie? She was laser-focused on her studies. A lot of guys tried to win her over, but she wasn’t interested.”

  “She never dated?”

  “She went on a few dates, sure. But nothing ever stuck — said most guys weren’t serious. When she met Olaf, though... something changed. It was the first time I saw her let her guard down—like she’d stopped measuring every word, and just felt. I’d known her for years, and I’d never seen her let anyone in that far.”

  I was about to ask more—maybe about her mood that last week—when Raen entered, all sharp lines and urgency, pulling the focus from memory to mission. A flicker of worry passed through me—was he about to scold me for speaking to Lisbeth’s friend without clearance? But I hoped he’d understand. The opportunity had been too good to miss.

  "Raen, this is Sevrin Laurec. We were just talking about Lisbeth. Do you want to join us?"

  “No time, Alice,” he said, tone clipped. “We got a call from Tyler. We need to get back to the Enclave. Right now.”

  He turned to Sevrin.

  “Master Laurec, we’ll speak again soon. For now, we’ve got a pressing matter.”

  “Of course. I just hope you find whoever did this to Lizzie,” Sevrin said quietly.

  “We’re doing everything we can,” Raen replied. “Alice, let’s go.”

  I followed Raen out of Goldspire, trying to shift from quiet conversation back into investigator mode. If the call had come from Tyler, there was only one possibility: Olaf.

  Inside the vex, Raen finally filled me in.

  “Olaf bolted from the university and went back to Lisbeth’s apartment. Tyler intercepted him. He’s in custody at the EAA now. We’re going in for a direct conversation.”

  “But if he’s the killer,” I said, frowning, “why would he return to the crime scene?”

  “Could’ve been a misdirection,” Raen said. “Either way, we’ll be speaking to him—and after that, we’ll need your analysis. Bring him water after the interview. Your method should give us something. Wish we could run a blood sample too, but that’s off-limits until your method is approved.”

  “Yeah,” I murmured. “Not holding my breath on that one. I’ll do my best with the water, though. Still, I don’t think Olaf did it. Yes, he and Lizzie argued. Yes, the pregnancy probably blindsided him. But to kill her? That doesn’t track. It goes against the nature of his gift.”

  “His gift,” Raen said pointedly, “is actually what works against him right now. You’re the one who said the killer was likely either a supreme vampire or a vitalist. And frankly, the vitalist theory is more realistic.”

  I didn’t have a good comeback for that. We still didn’t have the full picture.

  Let’s talk to Olaf, I told myself. Listen to the water.

  Maybe the Blaine twins will uncover something useful too.

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  I looked out the window—and paused. The sky above was brilliant today. A striking blue, brushed with soft white clouds, pierced through by warm, golden sun.

  I smiled, just a little.

  Even in the middle of a murder case, even in the middle of the urban city—

  the sky could still be beautiful.

  The sky was one of the reasons I loved our capital.

  Here, it was never the same — shifting with the weather, painted in endless shades of blue, rose, violet, and orange. Clouds streaked or drifted lazily across it, completing the picture. On sunny days like this, they stretched thin and soft across the sky like strands of cotton, gently shielding the city from the sun’s glare. And on overcast evenings, they gathered like massive, cold-blue blossoms across the dome of the sky, glowing gold only at the horizon as the sun dipped low.

  The sky offered no answers though—just a fragile kind of hope. By the time we turned into the Enclave’s vex lot, that hope had folded neatly back into habit. I was already shifting gears.

  ***

  “Oh, Boss, you’re quick,” Andreas said cheerfully. “Hey, Alice.”

  He and Thomas sat at their usual table, flipping through reports. Thomas gave me a wide, fangy grin.

  “Morning,” came a voice from the werewolf’s desk.

  Raen and I greeted the team and went to our desks.

  “Ty, report,” Raen said curtly.

  The werewolf chewed the end of his pen and began.

  “As planned, I headed to Concordia Institute of Healing this morning to dig into Olaf’s academic record. His professors describe him as diligent and hardworking. His gift is average—not flashy—but he learns fast and puts in the hours. Apparently, even though he has more than a year left before his final thesis is due, he’s already picked a topic, convinced one of the top professors to supervise him, and started drafting early materials.”

  He glanced up, grinning.

  “Guess what the title of his thesis is?”

  “Something about blood?” Thomas guessed.

  “Bingo, my red-eyed friend. Go grab a pastry from the shelf.”

  Tyler flipped through his notebook.

  “Official title: ‘Blood—Its Physiology and the Mechanics of Magical Influence.’”

  Andreas gave a low whistle. Raen frowned.

  “It’s still too circumstantial. We need someone who saw Olaf visit Lisbeth on Sunday evening—or at least confirmation that he has no alibi,” Raen said.

  “We’ll be canvassing neighbors again tonight,” Andreas replied.

  “Don’t you think all this lines up a little too perfectly?” I said. “The fight over the pregnancy, the murder method, the thesis topic? What is Olaf, an idiot? Using his gift in a way that makes it easy to track him down? He’s a model student, clearly ambitious. And it’s hard to rise when you’re sitting in a holding cell.”

  “Alice, didn’t you say that if your method hadn’t been applied, there’s a good chance the death would’ve been ruled natural?” Tyler countered from his desk.

  I deflated slightly. He was right. Without my gift, Lizbet’s death likely would’ve been filed under heart failure—despite her clean bill of health.

  Maybe I just don’t want Olaf to be guilty, I thought, because I’m hoping this case somehow leads back to Armon—the man I truly want to see exposed.

  Tyler, oblivious to my inner spiral, was still talking.

  “I was speaking with his thesis advisor when the beacon activated—showing Olaf had left the university grounds. I followed. He walked to Lisbeth’s building—it’s nearby. Stopped at a flower shop, bought a bouquet, and headed straight to her apartment. Her sister opened the door. Immediately started screaming that he was a murderer and a bastard.”

  He shook his head.

  “If that guy really is the killer, he’s a damn good actor. He looked completely lost. Shocked. Didn’t resist when I brought him in. Just followed, silent. And now he’s sitting in Interrogation No. 2, staring at the wall like the world just ended.”

  Just then, a knock sounded at the office door—followed immediately by it swinging open to reveal a stunning young woman who glided into the room like a doe on silk.

  She was petite, almost delicate, with luminous pale skin and long chestnut hair cascading down her back in glossy waves. Her wide amber eyes carried a faint expression of surprise, and her subtly pointed ears gave her away—a half-elf. Rare, even in Vraveil.

  The vampire twins instantly shifted into full charm mode.

  “Diana, our radiant delight—here to invite us to lunch?” Andreas purred.

  Tyler shook his head at the performance. Raen rolled his eyes.

  I, however, watched the beauty with interest. Elves tended to keep to their Emerald Forests, preferring distance from human life, and mixed marriages were uncommon. Even half-bloods like this were a rarity in the capital.

  Without acknowledging the twins, Diana smiled faintly and crossed the room, placing a folder in front of Raen with the fluid grace of someone fully aware of her curves—and exactly where her neckline pointed.

  “Raen, the file from Neridge, just like you asked,” she said, her voice languid and sweet. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “No, thank you.” Unmoved, Raen stood and turned to me. “Actually, Diana, meet the newest member of our team.”

  Ignoring her generous display of cleavage, he motioned in my direction.

  Diana gave me a once-over, her smile barely touching her lips.

  “Pleasure, Alice. I’m a data analyst from the intelligence division.”

  Raen’s indifference to her fairy-tale beauty gave me a strange sense of satisfaction.

  “Lovely to meet you,” I lied politely.

  “Thanks for the update, Diana,” Raen said, steering her toward the door. “But we’re about to start a briefing, so if you’ll excuse us…”

  Before leaving, Diana lingered by Raen’s desk, her voice low and honeyed.

  “Maybe we could grab a drink after work?” she said, eyes holding his for a beat longer than necessary. “Tea… or something stronger?”

  Raen didn’t flinch. “Busy night ahead. Another time.”

  Diana drifted out with one last glance at Raen. Her perfume still lingered in the air when the door clicked shut.

  Raen didn’t comment—he just flipped the folder open like none of it happened. Case first. Always.

  “Shame,” Andreas muttered. “Some men wouldn’t mind being hunted.”

  “Focus,” Raen said, not looking up. “We’re here to solve a murder.”

  The room quieted as he scanned the first page.

  “From Neridge: Olaf Gaspar, twenty-two years old, no record, no prior offenses.

  Born and raised in Neridge by his mother and aunt—father unknown. The two women have lived at the same address for forty years. Clean academic record, no behavioral flags. His vitalist abilities manifested at twelve when his mother was hospitalized with a pre-infarction condition. Likely triggered by fear—his gift emerged under stress. Interestingly, neither his mother nor aunt has any magical gift, so it probably came from his father’s line. After awakening his abilities, Olaf began volunteering at the local vital ward alongside school. Four years ago, he was admitted to Concordia’s university and has lived in Vraveil since.”

  “Such a golden boy, it makes my fangs itch,” Andreas muttered.

  “Golden boy who panicked over a pregnancy,” Tyler added dryly.

  “Let’s get to the interrogation room,” Raen said, closing the folder. “Tyler and I will lead the questioning. Blaine brothers, Alice—you observe. I’ll bring Olaf some water.”

  As one, we stood and filed out of the office.

  The room was split by a transparent wall—one-way enchanted glass—that let us observe everything without being seen.

  Raen picked up a glass and a pitcher of water. Then he and Tyler headed into the interrogation chamber.

  Inside, Olaf sat at a small table, hands folded, his expression locked in a grimace of anguish. His eyes stared blankly ahead, unblinking. He didn’t acknowledge the door opening or the two men entering.

  “Master Gaspar,” Raen said, calm but firm, “I’m Raen Thorne. I’m investigating the murder of your fiancée, Lisbeth Vemund.”

  No response. Olaf kept staring through the table like it wasn’t even there. Raen and Tyler sat down across from him. Still nothing.

  Raen slammed his palm on the table.

  The sound snapped Olaf out of his trance. He flinched, blinking rapidly, and finally looked at them. Raen poured a glass of water and slid it across. Olaf grabbed it and drank in desperate gulps.

  “When was the last time you saw Lisbeth?” Raen asked.

  Olaf set the glass down. His hands trembled. Then he dropped his face into his palms and sobbed.

  “My Lizzie—my firefly—gods, how could this happen? This is all my fault! I’m such an idiot.”

  “Are you confessing to her murder, Master Gaspar?” Raen asked, voice even.

  Olaf jerked upright and stared at him, eyes wild.

  “What?! How dare you—! I loved Lizzie. She was the best thing in my life!”

  “And yet you didn’t take the pregnancy well,” Tyler said flatly. “You argued with her and ran.”

  Olaf rocked forward and back, hands clenched in his lap.

  “Yes, I ran. Like a coward. I wasn’t ready. I—I have this awful fear of babies. I’ve never seen myself as a father, especially not so soon. I still have two years of school left. I don’t have a real income, I’m dependent on my family… I never planned to start a family now.”

  He exhaled sharply, guilt etched across his face.

  “When Lizzie told me, I panicked. I couldn’t think. The only thing I could do in that moment was run.”

  “Right,” Tyler said, pushing. “You panicked over a baby, thought she’d derail your perfect future—so you got rid of her.”

  “Are you out of your damn mind?” Olaf snapped. “I didn’t kill Lizzie! I lived for her. For her and for my mom and aunt. I couldn’t believe someone like her would even look at me—gods, she was brilliant, beautiful, independent… what did she see in me? I worked myself to the bone just trying to be good enough.”

  Tyler didn’t let up. “Maybe that wasn’t enough anymore. Maybe she found someone else. Maybe you got jealous.”

  I shifted uneasily behind the observation glass. Tyler was pushing hard—maybe too hard. If Olaf broke down completely, we might lose more than we gained. Raen had to see that too.

  Raen’s jaw twitched. Without looking away from Olaf, he gave a brief shake of his head—just enough for Tyler to catch it. The werewolf subsided, tapping his pen against the table instead.

  Olaf’s gritted his teeth, voice low and furious.

  “Don’t you dare. Don’t talk about Lizzie like that. She was loyal. Kind. The best person I ever knew. And I—I let her down. I ran when she needed me. And now she’s… she’s gone.”

  Olaf began rocking again, slowly, back and forth.

  “How did she die?” he asked, voice tight. “Did she suffer?”

  Raen’s answer came quiet and deliberate.

  “Her blood was forced to stop. Frozen, in a way. The heart couldn’t keep working—it just gave out. Our expert’s conclusion is that this method of killing points to a vitalist.”

  Olaf went pale.

  “But that’s… impossible,” he said. “Do you realize how advanced that kind of technique would be? Vitalists can influence organs, muscles, increase clotting to stop bleeding. But to freeze the blood itself? That would take a massive amount of power—exceptional magical strength.”

  As I listened, I felt a jolt of realization.

  Olaf was right.

  A vitalist manipulating a wound or organ was one thing. The deeper the damage, the more power it took. But to freeze all the blood in a person’s body? That wasn’t just skill. That was a whole different level of gift.

  I should have consulted a senior vitalist. How had I missed that? It was a gap in my analysis. A big one.

  “Let’s set that aside for now,” Raen said smoothly. “Master Gaspar, please tell me again—when was the last time you saw Lisbeth Vemund?”

  Olaf poured himself more water, took a long drink, then finally answered.

  “Friday night, around eight. She made me dinner—a romantic one. That’s when she told me about the pregnancy. I froze. I tried to explain it wasn’t the right time. One word led to another, and we started arguing. She began to cry. I panicked, packed my things, and left. I think a neighbor saw me on the stairs—tall woman, athletic, always out jogging in the evenings.”

  “Did you contact Lisbeth after that?” Raen asked.

  “No. I needed time to think. I knew I’d acted like a coward, but I was ashamed. I couldn’t face her. Only today did I finally decide to make things right. I came to her place, but her sister answered—and started screaming that I was a killer.”

  He rubbed his face with trembling hands. “How could I be a killer? Lizzie was everything to me.”

  Tyler’s voice was sharp.

  “Where were you between 11:30 p.m. Sunday and 12:30 a.m. Monday?”

  “That’s when… she died?”

  “Answer the question,” Raen said, cool and firm.

  “I think I was in my dorm room.”

  “Anyone who can confirm that?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe someone saw me go in? I got back before curfew—around eleven. After that, I was in my room, but I live alone.”

  “Where were you before that? Why so late?” Tyler asked.

  “I went for a walk. In the park near campus. I needed to clear my head.”

  “Anyone see you there?”

  “I don’t think so. It was late. I didn’t run into anyone. Unless the dorm warden remembers when I came back… but even then, they don’t keep a log unless you’re late. If you come back after curfew, there’s a fine. If you make it before, no one notes anything.”

  Tyler gave a low whistle.

  “So, no one saw you in the park. No one marked your return. You were alone in your room. Convenient.”

  Olaf clenched his fists.

  “Please. I didn’t kill Lizzie. I loved her. I came today to apologize, to fix things. Why would I go back if I’d… if I’d already done something like that?”

  “Maybe to mislead,” Tyler said. “To throw off suspicion. Pretend you’re the grieving fiancé. Meanwhile, you coldly ended two lives.”

  Olaf dropped his face into his hands, shoulders shaking in silent sobs.

  “That’s enough for today,” Raen said quietly. “Ty, take him back.”

  Tyler stood, gently pulled Olaf to his feet, and led him out of the room. Raen remained seated.

  Leaving the twins behind the glass, I grabbed my field kit and stepped into the interrogation chamber. Without a word, I collected the water samples. I felt the water trembling slightly as I poured it into the vial—already reacting to the emotional residue.

  I didn’t look at Raen. But at the door, I paused. Glanced back.

  “He’s right,” I said. “About the gift level. That’s on me—I should’ve consulted with a prime-level vitalist from the start.”

  Raen didn’t respond. He just gave a small nod.

  I left the room. It was time to use the gift again.

  If Olaf was innocent, then the real killer was still out there—and getting better at hiding.