The young adult's body twitched violently. Limbs jerked in uneven spasms until its mouth finally opened.
A cold, eerie tone slipped out.
"The man who killed me? Me, me, me… Father told me it was a priest! A useless one, from another side of Koburn. He, he, he wore a long black robe… was pale… maybe. Maybe I didn't… I didn't see him fully."
Arvin clenched his temples, teeth grinding as he muttered to himself.
"So, no clear look. That's wonderful. Did you at least see where he went?"
The young adult's mouth quivered.
"Went? Went? Went—"
The body collapsed to the ground with a dull thud.
Arvin suddenly groaned, clutching his head as he fell to his knees. Dark blood welled from his mouth, dripping between his fingers.
Chessie gasped, running to him in a panic.
"What happened?!" Her voice cracked.
Arvin spat a string of crimson before forcing out words.
"I asked what he couldn't answer. He never saw the killer leave… asking that fried him. And forcing a corpse to talk already tears at my mind."
He wiped his mouth, pushed himself upright, and steadied his breathing.
"Why not do the same for the old man?"
Chessie asked quietly.
Arvin shook his head, exhaling sharply.
"His body's too ruined. I could try, but the toll would be worse than this.
We'll search the area instead. The killer likely bolted out the back."
Together they made their way to the rear basement door.
The moment Arvin swung it open, pale moonlight poured in, washing the backyard in silver.
The air was sharp and cold, the dead grass crunching beneath their steps.
Arvin's eyes scanned the dirt until he noticed a set of deep footprints pressed into the soil one trail leading into the house, another rushing out toward the yard.
He crouched down, tracing the patterns with sharp eyes. The trail led directly into the shadowy forest beyond, then up toward the mountains looming in the distance.
He gestured for Chessie.
"Here. Tracks lead straight to the forest. If the killer was from the other side of Koburn, he had two options: the slums or the mountains. These prints say mountains."
Arvin stood, brushing off his trousers.
"If he fought his way through here, he'll be slow. Five days at most to reach the other side. That gives us a chance. If we move carefully, dogs, or my second Stack, we can catch him."
Chessie blinked, almost starstruck.
"Then why not go now? We'll catch him quicker!"
Arvin sighed and tapped his cane against the dirt.
"Because we don't walk into forests or mountains at night. Not unless we want to meet things worse than killers. The public doesn't know, but it's an unspoken law. Supernatural horrors, thugs who'd skin you alive… safer to wait for daylight."
He turned back toward the basement, his steps slow and heavy. Inside, he reclaimed his cane and waved for Chessie to follow him upstairs.
As they ascended, Arvin covered his face with his hand. His voice dropped to a near-growl.
"Their family followed a god. That rules out the Non-Follower Ripper."
At the top of the stairs, he stopped.
"Before we leave, tell an officer to seal one of the footprints. A box or a conditioner, doesn't matter.
I'll track it later. Tomorrow, we take the dogs. If they fail, I'll use my second Stack."
His eyes glinted faintly in the dim light.
"You already know what it can do."
Chessie gave a sharp nod, her notebook clutched tight.
"Yes, sir!"
As Chessie hurried off to find an officer, Arvin chuckled faintly.
"And to think, she's the same age as me."
Meanwhile, deep within the forest, Vince was still running. His body was drenched in sweat, dirt smeared across his face and robes.
The woods around him looked wrong. Pale and lifeless, like they had been pulled straight out of some distorted old cartoon. The trees were twisted, each one leaning in unnatural directions, their branches curling like claws.
In one hand he gripped the shovel, in the other the strange compass.
Why did I run in here at night? Of all times… and if it's illegal to be here, I'm screwed if anyone finds me.
The compass needle hadn't wavered once, pulling him deeper into the forest. But it wasn't just the compass that unsettled him. The revolver at his side pulsed with a faint hunger, gnawing at his chest, while a heavy sensation crushed down on his heart. The feeling of being watched never left him.
Then it came.
A gut-wrenching screech tore through the forest, so sharp and distorted it felt like it split the night in two. Vince froze, spinning wildly, eyes darting between the crooked trees. Nothing.
"AHHH!"
This time it wasn't a screech, it was a man's voice, raw and close.
Vince bolted, clutching the compass as he followed where it pointed. His breath came ragged, his heart slamming like a drum in his ears.
Shapes appeared ahead of him in the fog-draped gloom.
People?
For a fleeting moment, hope sparked. He ran harder toward them, then froze.
Wait. The screech… it came from this way.
His gaze lifted instinctively, drawn upward.
A shadow loomed.
And then he saw it.
Even in the pale moonlight, every grotesque detail was visible.
The creature was impossibly tall, its limbs stretched too far, too thin, swaying like ropes. Where its head should have been, a rotting bear's skull stared back at him. Its claws dripped with thick blood, its stench hitting like rotting meat. Gray, sagging skin hung from its frame like an ill-fitting glove, bones jutting beneath the flesh.
Vince's voice cracked into a shrill scream.
"AHHH! A—A CREATURE!"
It lunged.
The thing fell toward him at a shocking speed, one long hand shooting out. Its claws swiped across his face—two fingers grazing him, splitting skin.
Vince stumbled back, terror flooding every nerve. The beast was about to seize him, its rank breath filling his lungs—
BANG!