He was tall — taller than most, enough to make his presence feel suppressing. His hair was dark, almost black, carrying a quiet sheen that caught the light when he moved.
His eyes held a colour you couldn't quite place, sharp yet calm. There was something refined in his features — a balance between strength and grace — the kind of face that drew attention without asking for it.
I looked at him with a mix of spite and envy. Proof, if ever needed, that God hands out good looks like raffle tickets truly impartial. One of the officers next to him leaned closer, whispering into his ear, and his expression hardened — which, frankly, I expected.
I braced myself for the condescending tone usually aimed at me on receiving the detail. But contrary to my expectations, his voice carried curiosity, almost intrigue, with a hint of pity.
"I always found that case a peculiar one..." He paused, eyes flicking down before locking on mine.
"Most assume your father sided with the Guardians, but I think there's more to it. All will be revealed in time. From what I've gathered, your father was a tenacious man — so either he, the Submarine, or probably both might surface in due time either with the Guardians or with the government"
He walked past, leaving me contemplative. I stayed frozen for a moment before finally moving, light-headed — partly from skipping a proper meal curtsey to my homeroom teacher, and partly from the weight of the inspector's words.
I entered my mother's office, where the desk gleamed, papers perfectly aligned. On the screen, live data tracking the distance between the shrouded zones and the habitable regions was shown, a lingering scar from the catastrophe of ten years past.
Exactly ten years ago, a massive chunk of American land vanished an incident although not proven might be global. There was no foreshadowing occurring instantaneously. To make it even clearer, if a vehicle were halfway between the vanished land and the spared states, half of it would simply cease to exist.
The spared lands included states east of Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri, Arkansas, and Louisiana — meaning DC remained intact. Canada was gone entirely. Florida, oddly, survived, but the landmass connecting it to the mainland was erased, and all living things within it seemed gone. The land showed no signs of settlement, completely reset to an untouched state.
To the west, Texas was left in a similar state. isolated and reverted. Chaos erupted as expected. The remaining states descended into disorder, and the government intervened unexpectedly rather quickly — almost as though they had planned for such an unforeseen event.
Satellites were deployed to map the changes, The only landmass visible was the one they resided in; as for all non-geostationary satellites… well, we can only say that all things that go up must come down.
They then utilized more vintage ships, after testing a number of planes… [a moment of silence] …This led to the conclusion that any non-living object that didn't already reside in that zone suffered immediate demise on entry. Some more crazed individuals decided swimming would solve the problem of non-living objects. Let the Lord rest their souls — they had, after all, earned the nap.
After multiple no-return incidents, the zones were designated as restricted and described as impassable. Reports indicated the weather conditions were catastrophic; wind[hurricanes], lightning[Zeus wrath], and rain[Poseidon domain after a breakup] reached levels capable of destroying a city in seconds. No human could survive there.
The government responded by erecting unscalable, thick walls — a precaution against a potential invasion of creatures from those zones. The event was subsequently named The Collapse. "The Great Vanishing" was considered, but it sounded too pleasant to represent the scale of despair induced by the event.
Several organizations arose to resist the government. Humans do not like to be placed in cages after-all, especially behind walls they cannot scale. One of these groups is the Guardians — because nothing says "terrorists" like a wholesome name. They believe the government is responsible for The Collapse. A side-eye-worthy statement, yes, but if you think about it, it makes sense; terrorists are rarely run by geniuses.
The door opened, interrupting my thoughts. The newly appointed assistant walked in, eyes shadowed with fatigue, hair slightly messy, every small movement carrying the weight of late nights and endless paperwork — a college graduate slowly worn down by life at the precinct.
"This case seems like it's taking a lot out of you. Any plans for a break?" Her head whipped up at the sound of my voice, eyes softening as they met mine.
"I didn't think you'd still be here," she murmured, exhaustion heavy in her voice. "You should leave; your mom is currently busy, especially with that detective here..."
"Mr. Anthony?" I asked. She nodded gravely.
"He seems interested in the case, most likely because of the circumstances surrounding it."
"Transcendental spirits?" I asked. "Didn't strike me as a superstitious guy."
She dropped the sheet she held, a dull thud filling the silence. Dragging a chair closer, she lowered herself into it with a sigh.
"Well, there have been many incidents like this, all showing no connection to actions by humans. So who else but spirits? It gives them a convenient excuse — to shift the blame onto something they can't really investigate… well, not right now anyway." Her face clouded with worry, but the expression passed quickly.
"Like I said earlier, she's busy. I arranged a protective detail to get you home safely". "So far has attack incidents and their ferocity either increased or decreased?," she asked, tilting her head.
"Increased," I said. "My father being labelled a potential traitor, especially when tied to a vessel that could probably pass the shrouded regions, maybe even reach the scorched barrens… a potential source for hope. Of course, they would be furious." I stood.
"I'll be going. Try to take things slow; your health should remain paramount." I stated flatly while leaving the room.
Inspector Anthony Ravenshall
"Lieutenant Nightshade. Pleasure to meet you." His hand extended for a handshake. She accepted it with a measured, professional smile.
"Please follow me," she said, walking ahead without a glance back.
There's really no need to be so cold, he thought, letting out a quiet sigh as he trailed behind her.
They arrived at the office adjacent to the interrogation suite. On the desk lay a neatly stacked folder.
"This is the updated case file," she said.
"Updated?" he asked, brow furrowing.
"Yes," she replied, voice clipped but steady. "We had to reconcile the suspect's statement against the procedural timeline and cross-check the forensic logs."
He nodded, flipping open the file. The pages were annotated with evidence logs, witness statements, chain-of-custody records, and notes on inconsistencies flagged by the desk sergeant.
"Looks like you've documented every deviation," he remarked, scanning the margins.
"Standard protocol," she replied. "Anything outside procedure could compromise the interview or jeopardize the case in court."
He leaned in, eyes tracing the report. "Chain of custody is intact. Forensics are consistent. And all discrepancies are noted here?"
"Yes. All deviations, witness contradictions, and procedural anomalies are highlighted," she said. "We cross-referenced with CAD reports and bodycam footage showing behaviour on confrontation"
8mins later
"He's still sticking to the same story, I see." He looked up questioningly at Mrs. Nightshade.
She gave a curt nod. "The information gathered here shows no antecedent that would justify the murder. We can't say he did it out of greed — he wasn't even paid yet. And literally handing himself in? Sitting on the stairs soaked in blood? Not exactly the smartest move after an incident like this."
"So, spirits then? Did you check the place for any unusual activity that might hint at the paranormal?" he asked.
"No, none. No ghost sightings, no doors locking on their own, no people passing through walls. Total let-down. Either the ghost got bored, or there was another individual in the room and our suspect had no awareness of them."
"Scene reconstruction?" he prompted.
She looked up briefly. "The reconstruction supports the presence of a fourth person. Setting aside the fact that there were no fingerprints on the victim, the bloodstain analysis shows that Mr. Isaac, during the mutilation with the saw, released a blood arc that hit the suspect. He couldn't have been in two places at once. And then there's the..." She shuddered, a quite subtle shake running the length of her body.
"Severely mutilated corpse," he finished. "There's no way he could have changed his clothes— the footage proves that so, any blood splatter from the shaman would have been noted. But where would the fourth individual have entered and exited?" He mused.
she shrugged "x-ray analysis shows no secret entrance or rooms"
"It's time we talked to the victim," he stated, looking at the lieutenant.
"Victim?" she asked.
"Mentally," he clarified, standing up. "We can say he's a victim — seeing someone die like that can do serious damage to a mind."