Once the initial shock wore off, I forced myself to return to my notes and refocus on the case. Three hours passed before I finally closed the notebook, rubbed my face with both hands, and stood up to tidy the workspace.

  I needed to check in with the team—but after what Raen said, I wasn’t sure how to act around him anymore. Did his words mean he’d help me reopen my father’s case? Did he understand now why I’d really joined the Enclave? Why did I request his team?

  After wrapping up in the lab, I took off my coat, gathered my things, and headed toward the office, report in hand. My mind was still turning over the fact that the murdered girl had worked for Armon Eider. Did that mean anything? Maybe her fiancé really was the killer. Maybe Armon—my father’s old friend and worst enemy—had nothing to do with it at all. He didn’t even have a known Gift, let alone healing abilities.

  And yet, nothing ever felt simple when Armon was involved.

  I was certain he had orchestrated my father’s death—and the convenient downfall of Torian Ved. I was only fifteen back then, and no one in my family took my warnings seriously. Just a grieving kid with wild theories. When the tragedy hit, I confided in Raen, bracing for the usual “leave that to the adults” speech.

  But he surprised me.

  He listened—really listened—and said he’d look into it. I believed him. Held onto that promise like it was the last solid thing I had. I didn’t press my mother to contact the Enclave. I didn’t demand justice. I waited.

  Then, like thunder splitting a quiet sky, the news came: Torian was dead. Found lifeless in his cell. Case closed. Just like that.

  My mother broke. Not all at once, but steadily—like glass held under water too long. She stopped asking questions. Stopped fighting. And when my grandfather arrived, he packed what was left of our family and took us home.

  Lost in thought, I didn’t even realize I had arrived.

  “Oh, Alice, finally! We’ve been blessed by the pastry gods—dig in!” one of the vampires announced grandly, chewing mid-sentence as he lounged on the table to the left. His partner was also chewing, scribbling something in a notebook before glancing up and giving me a playful wink.

  “They weren’t for you, they were for me,” Tyler declared from the table on the right, adopting a sage tone. “I just happen to be generous.”

  “If we’re being accurate,” Raen said dryly from his desk at the far end, “they were for Albert. He couldn’t handle the magnitude of someone’s gratitude alone. But that’s beside the point. Alice, take that workstation in the back corner—and let’s get to work.”

  He gestured toward the unclaimed desk: clean, impersonal, and practically begging for identity.

  I nodded, grabbed a meat pastry from the basket on my way, set my case down, and dropped into the chair. The moment I took a bite, I realized just how hungry I was. The flavor was warm, savory—divine. I nearly groaned with satisfaction.

  “Now, to the case,” Raen said, pointedly ignoring the amused glances thrown my way as I devoured the pastry. “Victim is Lisbeth Vemund, twenty-five. Human. Based on Alice’s preliminary findings, we’re classifying it as a homicide. There was external interference—details on that will come from Alice herself in a bit.”

  He paused, then continued, “Lisbeth was living with her fiancé, Olaf Gaspar—twenty-two, fifth-year student at Concordia Institute of Healing. Originally from Neridge, a small town about three hundred miles north of Vraveil. He moved here to study. I’ve sent a query to the Neridge Enclave for additional background.”

  Raen’s gaze hardened.

  “Lisbeth was pregnant. She shared the news with Olaf on Friday night, expecting joy. Instead, they fought. Olaf returned to the dorms alone.”

  He nodded to Tyler.

  “Ty, bring us up to speed.”

  The shifter stood, folding his arms.

  “I tracked down our heartbroken scholar. He’s still going to class, looking properly devastated. Spoke with the dean—nothing but praise. Olaf’s arcane signature is mid-tier—not especially gifted, but hardworking, focused. Bit insecure. No history of trouble, no signs of student mischief. Just... academic.”

  Tyler shrugged.

  “As agreed, I haven’t spoken to Olaf directly. Didn’t question the dorm neighbors either—didn’t want word getting back to him. I’ve tagged him. If he makes a move, we’ll know.”

  “Alright, Andreas, what do you have?” Raen asked, turning his attention to the vampires.?

  The twin with his hair down hopped off the table and reported, “Most neighbors were out—likely at work. Those we did speak with described Lizzy as kind and friendly, always ready to help. They portrayed her fiancé similarly: quiet, modest, polite. A woman from the adjacent apartment overheard an argument on Friday night—seems Olaf either didn’t set or forgot the silence ward. Later, during her evening run, she encountered Olaf rushing down the stairs with a suitcase, looking frantic. This was around ten PM. No one has seen him since. Lisbeth was spotted alone during daytime walks on both Saturday and Sunday. We plan to return in the evening to question more residents.”?

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  Andreas perched back on the table's edge as Thomas continued, “I’ve looked into our victim. Lisbeth was born here in Vraveil, previously residing in the city's northern Lover district. At first glance, a typical middle-class human family. Her parents died in a vex energy crystal explosion when she was thirteen. She has an older sister, Ariana, who was eighteen at the time and took on Lisbeth's guardianship. They remained in their family home until Lisbeth enrolled at Vraveil Economic University, moving into dorms as per university policy. Two years later, Ariana married and relocated to a town near Alar. Lisbeth graduated with honors three years ago, completing her internship at Goldspire. She must have made a strong impression, as they hired her post-graduation. They’re expecting us for an interview tomorrow morning.”

  At that moment, I was still debating whether to give in and grab another pastry. But when Raen called my name, the hunger vanished instantly, replaced by something tighter—nerves.

  This was my first real report in front of the team. No more quiet notebooks or private labs. Just me, my voice, and a room full of experienced investigators waiting to see if I knew what I was doing.

  I stood a little straighter, willing my voice to be steady. My fingers were gripping the page so hard they’d left imprints. This was it—the moment I either proved I belonged or made a fool of myself.

  “The victim died sometime between 11:30 p.m. Sunday and 12:30 a.m. Monday,” I said. “All internal organs appear healthy. No signs of disease or abnormalities.” I paused, then added, a bit more carefully, “The pregnancy was about seven weeks along. No complications that I could detect. No signs of hexes, toxins, or direct magical interference with internal systems.”

  A beat of silence. No one moved. My mouth went dry as I forced myself to keep going, clinging to the rhythm of the report like a lifeline.

  “But when I ran the crystal analysis… the blood patterns were wrong. Something interfered—not with her body, but with the blood itself. It was forced into a kind of stillness, like it had been frozen mid-motion. That’s what stopped her heart.”

  At that, everyone in the room—except Raen—looked at me with a mix of surprise and mild skepticism. I took a breath and clarified:

  “Liquids retain emotional traces. Even something as simple as sharing tea with someone leaves behind a signature—like a fingerprint made of feeling. It’s something we’ve long known, especially with water. But blood tells even more.

  Under the right conditions, you can read what’s been left behind—fear, anger, even grief. These emotions imprint themselves into crystalline structures formed during rapid freezing.

  During my studies, I developed a method to decode those structures—not just in water, but in any liquid, including blood. The patterns reveal more than you’d think: recent emotional spikes, stress responses, even fragments of personality. It’s not always exact—but in the right hands, it’s powerful.

  I know it sounds unusual. But it works. I’ve tested it over and over. I paused, steadying my breath. Raen was watching me closely—his gaze unreadable, but sharper than before. Tyler scratched the back of his head and broke the silence.

  “So... just to be clear—if you hadn’t run the test, would this have looked like a natural death?”

  I nodded. “Most likely, yes. There were no signs of direct arcane interference—nothing that would normally raise suspicion. The organs were clean. Without blood crystal analysis, a medical examiner might’ve ruled it heart failure. A tragic but ‘explainable’ death.”

  I glanced at my notes before continuing. “But with the blood halted like that—intentionally frozen in place—we’re not looking at a natural shutdown. This was precise. Controlled. Deliberate. Which means either we’re dealing with a very skilled vitalist... or something else entirely.”

  I hesitated, then added, “Possibly a supreme vampire. As far as we know, they’re the only ones capable of manipulating blood on that level.”

  Andreas scoffed. “Come on, Alice. A supreme vampire? What would they want with a regular human girl? That’s way below their usual pay grade.”

  “She wasn’t just anyone,” Raen said, voice low. “She worked directly for Armon Eider. Personal assistant. Goldspire’s inner circle. You don’t climb that high in three years without someone noticing.”

  Tyler raised a brow. “Sounds like you’re reaching. Girl gets pregnant, has a fight with her fiancé—maybe it’s just that simple. And he's a vitalist.”

  “Firstly, it would have to be a very talented vitalist. Such an effect is highly atypical; they usually work directly with organs and disease focal points. Temporarily inducing complete hematic stasis — essentially stopping all blood flow without damaging any tissue — is unprecedented. Moreover, their ethical constructs make it exceedingly difficult for them to inflict harm, let alone cause death. Additionally, such an act necessitates direct physical contact with the subject. And witness interviews showed that Olaf left around ten o'clock on Friday night and hasn't been seen near the house since, correct?” I replied.?

  “That's true, but we haven't interviewed everyone yet. Maybe his visit on Sunday evening will come up,” said Thomas, starting to sketch something in his notebook.?

  “It's clear that nothing is clear…” commented Raen. “Alright, let's head home for now; we're waiting for a response to the inquiry about Olaf. Ty, keep an eye on him and tomorrow morning discreetly ask his professors about his studies; maybe we'll learn something interesting. Alice, you and I will go to Goldspire. The involvement of a supreme vampire also seems very unlikely to me, but we need to explore that as well. Therefore, Blaines, gather information on all the supreme vampires in the city and any possible connection to Lisbeth Vemund. We'll reconvene here at midday.

  The vampires and the shifter nodded in agreement. I stood up from the table, took my briefcase, and approached Raen. Then I placed my notebook on the desk in front of him. The others filed out, leaving me alone with the chief.”

  “Thank you for believing me right away. I thought I would have to spend several hours proving the validity of my conclusions,” I said to Raen.?

  A long look. A brief nod. A quiet, “We’ll see where this leads.”

  I held his gaze for a moment, offered a tentative smile, and headed for the exit.?

  “Goodbye, Raen.”?

  “Tomorrow, then,” Raen said. His voice was unreadable—but something in it lingered, like a question left unsaid.