Alice

  I followed my team to the vex, my mind spinning. Raen had recognized me instantly. Eight years had passed, and I was no longer the wide-eyed, tear-streaked fifteen-year-old he’d last seen. His reaction today had been all too telling. But since he chose to play along with my introduction charade, I would pretend this was our first meeting.

  Though, truth be told, I desperately wanted to look into his dark eyes and ask, "Why? Why didn’t you investigate the deaths of the two people who meant everything to me? Why is my father’s killer still free? I believed in you. You promised me and my mom. You promised, and yet you let the case close. I know Torean couldn’t have killed my dad. The water would’ve told me—water never lies to me."

  I forced the memories back into their shadowed corner, locking them away behind a practiced smile. Focus, Alice. Today was not the day to let old wounds bleed.

  I was so lost in thought that I barely noticed when someone called my name. Twice.

  "Arcaness Lamard, are you so nervous you can't hear me?" The shapeshifter’s voice was warm, his smile gentle. His expression pulled me back to the present. I blinked, realizing we were already outside, approaching the vex parked in the Enclave’s lot.

  "Sorry, yes, I am a bit nervous. I’ve waited so long for this day, and now I’m not sure I’ll do everything right," I admitted, a flush creeping up my neck. "Could you tell me your name again?"

  "I think the best graduate of the Academy of Arcane Forensics will do just fine." He chuckled. "I’m Tyler Ulric. You can just call me Ty."

  I smiled back, grateful, and began to study him discreetly. He was shorter than Raen, solidly built. Like the rest of the team, he wore black trousers tucked into high boots, but his shirt was a dark blue instead of black, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His short dark hair bristled slightly, and his gray eyes, flecked with amber, held a calm seriousness. Simple, steady, and reliable. He wasn’t as striking as Raen or as charming as the Blaine vampire brothers, but he had an easy, comforting presence.

  "And you can call me Alice," I offered.

  "Oh, sure! With us, it's 'Arcaness Lamard,' but with our resident furball, it's straight to first names, huh?" Andreas interjected with mock indignation. He turned, his expression exaggeratedly wounded, while Thomas, deep in conversation with Raen, didn't join in the banter.

  I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Fine, you two can call me Alice too. Just drop any other variations, please!"

  Tyler snorted and looked at Andreas. "Why are you two so green anyway? Been drinking garlic water on a dare again?"

  I bit back a laugh. So that was the mystery liquid in the office! It seemed life with these vampires would never be dull.

  Andreas assumed a dignified expression, but before he could retort, Raen spoke up.

  "It seems introductions are complete, and we need to get moving." He opened the front passenger door of the large vex, his dark eyes on me. "Arcaness Lamard, if you please."

  I climbed in, and the rest of the team settled in behind me. Thankfully, the vex was spacious, allowing all of us to sit comfortably—or as comfortably as one could in a service vehicle. Raen activated the start crystal, and we sped through the streets of Vraveil.

  What an incredible city! Located in the heart of The Concord, Vraveil was a worthy capital. Nearly every race called it home: vampires, shapeshifters, drow, demons, trolls, orcs, gnomes, arcanists, humans, and even nymphs, dryads, and naiads who needed nature and water sources to thrive.

  The city bordered the Averin Peaks to the west, where the gnomes preferred to live. To the northeast lay The Mirror Lakes, with the nymphs and dryads residing in the northern woodlands. The southern shores, however, were home to the elite—the upscale Brasam District, with its lavish homes, parks, and the most expensive restaurants and boutiques. The wealthy and powerful—powerful arcanists, aristocrats, high demons, and vampire clans—dominated the area.

  The northern part of the city was more modest, housing hard-working humans and industrious orcs. The Corvail district was all office buildings and residential complexes. This was where the Enclave of Arcane Affairs stood and where my little apartment was just a few glider stops away—a perfect location to minimize commute time.

  The vex hummed through the glimmering streets of Vraveil, where crystal-glass facades shimmered with runes of protection and arcane lanterns bathed the sidewalks in soft, violet light.

  I watched the buildings blur by and listened as Raen briefed us on the case.

  "The woman’s body was discovered in her apartment on Braland Street by her sister, who dropped by unannounced. She called the vitalists, but it appears death occurred overnight, so there was nothing they could do. The cause of death is unclear. We'll assess the scene to gather more information. That's all we have for now."

  Braland Street was on the southern edge of the Corvail District, so it didn’t take long to get there. Once parked, Raen glanced at my forensic kit and asked, "Arcaness, do you have everything you need?"

  "Of course," I responded with a quick nod.

  He led the way into the tall residential complex, which looked a lot like my own building. The rest of us followed, taking the glide up to the fifth floor. In the hallway, Raen knocked on the door, and we waited.

  The young man in a vitalist trainee uniform opened the door, his expression a mix of nerves and professionalism.

  "EAA? Yes, I sent the signal. I’m a trainee from the Cresthall Vital Center. I arrived with Arcanis Ragnar, the duty vitalist," he said, stepping aside to usher us into the apartment.

  "I’m Arcanis Raen Thorne, lead investigator for the Homicide Division. This is my team," Raen introduced us, his nod steady and authoritative. "Please, take us to the scene."

  We followed the vitalist into a spacious room to the left of the entrance. It had the quiet, curated feel of a living room—soft sunlight poured through the lace curtains, giving the room a washed-out, almost dreamlike glow.

  By the window sat a sun-kissed, red-haired woman in a gray travel suit. She clutched a tall glass, sipping slowly. The air held the faint scent of herbs. An older vitalist sat next to her, his voice a low murmur of comfort. She looked up at us with glassy, tear-reddened eyes and let out a fragile sob.

  On a pale sofa lay the body of a young woman. Copper hair fanned down to the floor in gentle waves. Her long, sage-green house dress had bunched up, revealing slender legs in fluffy white socks. A book rested on the floor beside the sofa, as if it had simply slipped from her hands. On the small table sat a large teacup with a delicate floral pattern—evidence of a quiet moment, interrupted.

  Raen’s voice was soft but firm as he addressed the woman at the table. "I’m Arcanis Raen Thorne, investigator from the Enclave of Arcane Affairs. Could you introduce yourself and tell us what happened here?" He took a seat opposite her, his posture open yet composed.

  While the woman gathered her thoughts, Raen cast a glance back at us, the rest of his team still hovering near the door.

  "Blaine twins and Tyler, proceed as usual. Arcaness Lamard, begin examining the body and the scene. If you need anything, ask."

  The twins moved toward the door, likely to question the neighbors. Tyler, ever the professional, slipped into the hallway with a quiet nod, the young vitalist following in his wake.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  My legs felt like lead as I approached the dead girl. I set down my forensic kit, my fingers numb as I pulled on my gloves.

  This was no training exercise. The weight of reality pressed on me—this was about justice, about finding answers, not acing an exam. Seeing death so close, so raw, was unsettling. I forced myself to focus, to push past the gnawing discomfort, and began my examination.

  But as I completed the initial scan, my unease only grew. We weren’t dealing with a single death. There were two—the young woman and her unborn child.

  "Arcanis Ragnar, I trust the water is clean?" Raen’s voice cut through my thoughts, sharp and grounding.

  "Everything is by protocol, Arcanis Thorne.” the vitalist replied, "I wanted to wait for you in the kitchen, but the lady here absolutely refused to leave the room until you arrived."

  Raen nodded and returned his attention to the woman. She sniffled and took another shaky sip from her glass. I hesitated, unsure whether to share my discovery immediately. Deciding to hold off, I continued my work, hands steady but my mind churning.

  The woman, voice quivering, finally began to speak:

  "My name is Ariana Volte. This is my younger sister, Lizzie. I mean, Lisbeth Vemund." She paused, knuckles white against the glass. "On Friday night, I spoke with her through the commulet. She was... very upset."

  Ariana took another sip, the glass clinking against her teeth, and drew a breath that seemed to come from somewhere deep and raw.

  "I suggested she come to my place for a week, to rest. My husband and I have a cottage at the Alaric Sea, but she declined. Said her boss was too strict to let her take time off. Then I offered to visit instead, but she told me not to. You see, we have two small children, and my husband works—he couldn’t stay home with them. Finding a nanny last minute is nearly impossible. So, I let it go."

  Ariana closed her eyes for a moment, steadying herself before continuing:

  "On Saturday morning, my mother-in-law returned early. She’d gotten tired of her friends at the Westfield Spas. I was thrilled and decided to visit Lizzie that evening, but I didn’t call her—I thought I’d surprise her. But I could only get tickets for Sunday evening, so I arrived this morning. I opened the door, thinking she’d be at work. I wanted to make her something nice, surprise her... but she was on the sofa... cold."

  Her lips trembled, and tears swelled in her eyes. She gripped the glass so tightly I feared it might shatter. Arcanis Ragnar, placed a gentle hand on her arm.

  "Breathe, dear," he murmured, taking the glass from her. He poured fresh water, adding a few drops from a vial that deepened the herbal scent in the room.

  Ariana sipped obediently, the glass still quivering in her hands.

  Raen leaned forward, his expression both empathetic and professional.

  "Can you tell me why Lizzie was so upset?"

  "They met last summer at the beach when Lizzie was staying with me," Ariana said, her voice softening with the memory. "She couldn’t swim at all, but that didn’t stop her from wading into the water, even when the sea was rough. I wasn’t there—I’d taken the kids to get ice cream. Somehow, the waves pulled Lizzie out into the deep. She was so scared... nearly drowned."

  Ariana let out a breath, a soft, almost involuntary smile touching her lips. "For all her years, Lizzie has this childlike streak. Always so curious, so full of energy. You have to keep an eye on her constantly."

  Her voice lingered in the present, as if Lizzie might walk through the door any moment, trailing sunlight and questions. But then the truth seeped back in—slow, heavy, and unrelenting. The smile fractured, and her expression tightened, as if the room had grown colder.

  "I mean... I had to keep an eye on her..." The words slipped out, quiet and uneven, as if each syllable grated against the sharp edge of reality.

  "Olaf was on the beach that day. He saw Lizzie struggling in the waves and pulled her out. It turned out he was on vacation too, though he lived and studied in Vraveil. That’s how their relationship began."

  Her voice softened with the memory. "He always seemed like such a good boy. The way he cared for Lizzie—it was sweet, almost old-fashioned. He’d bring her little treasures from the beach, interesting shells and stones, and even wrote her poems. You know how it is with students—he didn’t have much for fancy dinners or grand gestures, but Lizzie never cared about that. She could have had anyone she wanted, even those with wealth and status. She was such a beauty... But Lizzie valued people for who they were, not for what they had. She made her own way, earned her own coin. She never needed anyone to gild her world—just to share it.”

  A faint glow of pride softened Ariana’s features, momentarily brightening the room’s somber air. "For Lizzie, Olaf became everything. Six months later, he moved in with her, and I’d never seen her so happy."

  "And do you know where Olaf is now?" Raen’s question was gentle but threaded with steel.

  Ariana’s gaze dropped to the floor. Her shoulders slumped, and a slow, unsteady breath escaped her lips.

  "I do." Her voice quivered, each word weighted with the burden of what she was about to reveal. "Lizzie told me during our last conversation—they’d had a terrible fight. He even took some of his things and went back to his dorm. They never fought before... not once, at least as far as I knew."

  Raen didn’t move, but the room seemed to tighten around his stillness. "Do you know what the fight was about?" His voice remained steady, a calm surface over deep waters.

  Ariana hesitated, her lips parting and closing as if the truth itself were too sharp to hold. When she finally spoke, her words were thin and brittle, fragile shards of reality.

  "She was pregnant. Just two months along. She thought it would make Olaf happy, but... he was terrified. He ran."

  Her breath trembled as she forced herself to look up, her eyes red and rimmed with grief. "Arcanis Thorne," her voice wavered, "do you think... could he have done something to my Lizzie? She was so healthy—there’s no reason for her to just... die, is there?"

  Raen cast a questioning look at the vitalist. The older man nodded, his silvered head dipping thoughtfully.

  "The young woman was in exceptional health," the vitalist said, his voice a mix of calm and uncertainty. "I performed a general diagnostic scan and found no underlying issues—though, of course, this is only a preliminary assessment. We also examined her body and the tea for poisons or traces of curses. Nothing. It’s as if she simply... stopped breathing. But as you know, a more detailed investigation is needed. That’s where your expertise comes in."

  Raen’s expression remained composed, but his dark eyes followed my every movement. "Understood. We’ll find out what happened."

  He didn’t comment on my work, which I took as a good sign. Despite my initial jitters, I seemed to be doing everything right. I agreed with the vitalist’s initial assessment—there was nothing obvious to suggest foul play. But people didn’t just stop breathing without reason. Whatever the truth was, I intended to uncover it. The lab analyses would help unravel what had truly happened to Lizzie.

  Meanwhile, Ariana sat slumped at the table, her gaze lost somewhere beyond the window. She looked as though she might fall asleep right there—the calming elixir finally taking hold.

  "Madam Volte," Raen's voice was gentle but firm, drawing her back to the present. "I understand you need to rest, but I have one last request. Please write down any information you have about Olaf’s possible whereabouts and anything else you can recall about him. If there are any arcanegraphs of him in the apartment, that would help us as well. And if you could also provide Lizzie’s workplace and her supervisor’s name, I’d appreciate it."

  Ariana stirred, the fog in her eyes clearing. A faint spark of purpose returned to her expression. "Of course," she said. "The arcanegraphs are in their album. It’s on the bookshelf over there." She pointed to a tall shelf to the right of the window. "It’s a large white album with flowers on the cover—you can't miss it."

  Raen stood, slipped on his gloves, and moved to the bookshelf with a methodical precision. He retrieved the album, returned to the table, and produced a notepad with a self-writing quill from his pocket, setting it in front of Ariana.

  While she scribbled down her notes, Raen’s gaze drifted to me, quietly observing my work. His scrutiny was both a reminder of my responsibility and an unspoken reassurance. When Ariana finished, she handed him the notepad. Without looking, he slipped it into his pocket.

  Her shoulders sagged, as if writing had drained the last of her strength. "I’m sorry, but I need to lie down. I’ll go to my neighbor’s—she should be home. Her baby is just a few months old. I think she’ll let me stay. She and Lizzie were close."

  "Of course, Madam Volte," Raen said, rising smoothly to his feet. "I understand. Go and rest. We’ll update you as soon as we learn anything. I believe we’ll need to speak with you again. And I assume I don’t need to remind you to remain in the city?"

  Ariana nodded, her movements sluggish and mechanical. "Of course. My husband and mother-in-law are very understanding. I wouldn’t go anywhere," she murmured as the vitalist helped her stand, his hand a steadying presence as he guided her gently toward the door.

  The apartment fell into a quiet stillness as the door closed behind them. The weight of what had happened lingered, hanging in the air like a whisper only the walls could hear.

  When the front door closed softly behind them, Raen approached me, his expression calm but expectant.

  "Arcaness Lamard, what do you have so far?"

  I set down my tools, steadying my voice despite the faint tremor beneath.

  "Nothing out of line with the vitalist’s findings, Arcanis Thorne. Lizzie was exceptionally healthy. My preliminary assessment puts the time of death between ten last night and three this morning. I'll pinpoint it more accurately after lab analysis. I'll also run a full blood diagnostic. I’ve collected a sample from the teacup—no poisons, no traces of curses. I also have a specialized method, part of my thesis project. I’ll give you the full rundown when we’re back at the Enclave."

  Raen nodded, his dark eyes sharp with focus. "Good, Alice. Continue with the examination here. I’ll handle the rest of the apartment."

  He moved toward the hallway, his steps quiet and deliberate.

  A part of me bristled at the casual use of my first name. Professionalism mattered—especially on my first day. I briefly considered correcting him, but something held me back. The last thing I needed was to draw unnecessary attention from my colleagues. Instead, I bit down on the impulse and turned back to my work, forcing my focus back onto the evidence—onto the case. But as I lifted my hand over the blood sample, a chill shot through my spine.

  Something was wrong.

  The water... the water was trying to tell me something.