Episode 3 – The Vanished
1330 Words
The rooftops of East London blurred into shades of concrete grey beneath the steady drizzle. Lights flickered in distant windows while sirens howled faintly in the distance. Jamie Khan, hoodie pulled over his head, walked quickly along the canal path in Hackney. He kept checking over his shoulder. Ever since he had leaked the videos, he’d felt eyes watching him.
He wasn’t wrong.
In the shadows behind a rusted-metal bin, a man stood completely still. His face was hidden, but his posture wasn’t human. His coat hung from him as though weightless. He moved silently, gliding after Jamie like smoke.
Jamie reached his flat, turned the key with trembling fingers, and stepped inside. But before he could lock the door—
A whisper.
“Jamie Khan.”
He spun around.
No one was there.
But something was.
Something not of this world.
Across London, Hannah Blake tried to go about her shift like everything was normal. It wasn’t. Ever since her meeting with Black at Highgate Cemetery, her mind refused to rest. Every shadow felt heavier. Every patient she encountered carried the weight of uncertainty.
Today’s call was for a missing person—a woman in her early thirties, last seen entering her workplace at a tech firm in Canary Wharf. Her fiancé had called emergency services after she failed to return home. There was no record of her leaving the building, no CCTV footage of her exit.
And the strangest part?
She wasn’t on the security camera footage from inside the building either.
It was as if she had vanished.
Black stood on the rooftop of the tech firm building, his coat billowing in the wind. He watched the people below file in and out, faces glued to phones, minds far from the truth.
He closed his eyes.
He could feel it. Anomalies in the soul count. Someone had died here—but no reaper had collected the soul.
That should be impossible.
He pulled a small, silver object from his coat. A relic. It glowed faintly in his palm, pointing him toward the elevator shaft. Without hesitation, he descended the service stairwell and entered the basement floor—off limits to employees.
There, behind a boiler, he found what he had suspected.
The woman’s soul was caught. Suspended mid-transition, hovering like mist above the ground.
But it was incomplete—fractured.
He frowned.
“Why would a reaper only take part of a soul?” he muttered.
Footsteps echoed behind him.
He turned.
It was Hannah, wearing her uniform jacket, wide-eyed and pale.
“I felt something here,” she said softly.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“You said I’m connected. Then let me help.”
Black studied her. Her presence here confirmed it—she was more than a c***k between worlds. She was a conduit. Souls were drawn to her. And the rogue reaper must have sensed it too.
Back at Jamie’s flat, the boy sat shaking at his desk, headphones on, staring at a message blinking on his screen:
“YOU’RE NEXT.”
His door creaked open on its own.
He jumped to his feet.
“Who’s there?”
No answer.
But then, slowly, a figure stepped out from behind his curtain. Not a man—a reaper.
But not like Black.
This one was different. His aura flickered, unstable. His eyes glowed gold instead of black.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” the figure said.
Jamie backed away. “What the hell are you?”
“I’m what comes after truth. You’re exposing the lies of men who profit from death. That draws... attention.”
“Are you the one sending me messages?”
“I’ve been trying to keep you alive,” the reaper said. “But I can’t protect you forever. Others have noticed.”
Jamie’s voice cracked. “Who are the others?”
Before the reaper could respond, the lights in the room exploded.
In the darkness, something far more sinister entered the space.
Another reaper. But not rogue. Not kind.
A Cleaner.
Back at the Canary Wharf building, Hannah sat beside the place where the soul hovered. She stared into the mist and slowly extended her hand.
To Black’s astonishment, the soul responded.
It turned toward her, flickering in recognition.
“I know you,” Hannah whispered. “You were here yesterday. You were afraid. You wanted to leave.”
Black’s voice was sharper now. “You’re not just connected. You’re a beacon.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means souls can see you—reach you—even after they’re torn.”
“Torn?”
Black stepped closer. “A rogue is interfering. Taking parts of souls. And if we don’t stop them, more people will vanish—body and soul. Forgotten.”
“Why take only part of a soul?”
“I don’t know. But it’s unnatural. It’s forbidden.”
Suddenly, a shrill noise rang from Black’s pocket. A signal. He looked down.
Another death.
No reaper registered.
Same pattern.
“Come with me,” he said.
They arrived in Shadwell, near the docks. A man had been found unconscious in a locked flat. He had no injuries, no trauma. He was just... gone inside. Eyes open, pulse steady, but his mind blank. Like he had been emptied.
Hannah took one look and stepped back in horror.
There was no shadow. No residue.
Just a void.
Black knelt beside the man. His fingers hovered over the man’s chest.
“No soul,” he muttered. “Not even a trace.”
Hannah’s voice shook. “What does that mean?”
“It means he was taken—completely. No death. No afterlife. Just... erased.”
“Why is this happening now?”
“Because the rogue reaper is experimenting.”
“With what?”
Black stood. “With death itself.”
Meanwhile, in a shadowy realm between worlds, the rogue reaper stood over a floating collection of soul fragments—some flickering gently, others writhing like broken film.
He wasn’t mad. Not entirely.
He believed he was saving people. Saving the world.
Fate, he argued, was corrupted. The order of death had been tampered with by mortals who built empires from dying bodies. Hospitals, governments, insurance giants—they profited from loss.
“I’m restoring balance,” he whispered. “I’m taking what’s mine... and giving them choices.”
From the corner of the space, another soul fragment trembled—a child’s voice crying softly.
That night, Jamie fled his flat. The two reapers had fought, but the darkness that entered his home had left a mark.
He had seen too much. Now, he was running.
He called Hannah.
He didn’t know why. He had seen her once in an ambulance, and somehow her number had found its way into his phone. A whisper in his ear had told him she was the only one who could help him.
“Hannah Blake?” he said, out of breath.
“Yes? Who is this?”
“My name is Jamie. I’m going to die tonight.”
By midnight, Hannah and Black stood again in Highgate Cemetery. The air was colder now. Even the statues seemed to shiver.
“Someone called me,” Hannah said. A boy. Jamie Khan. Said he was going to die.”
Black looked out over the city lights.
“That name... Crowe had it in his files. He was investigating the boy’s family. His younger brother died in a surgery at Leeds Medical—a known for illegal organ harvesting.
“Then he’s connected to the reaper.”
“Yes. And the rogue will want to protect him.”
“Or destroy him,” Hannah said quietly.
Black nodded. “Either way, we find him before the others do.”
As they stepped out of the cemetery, the surrounding night pulsed with danger.
Souls were disappearing.
Time was running out.
And a war among reapers was just beginning.
- Writer
