The body of the seventh victim lay in the middle of the street. For six months, a serial killer had been terrorizing Necthera, leaving behind bodies with no witness and no clues. Detective Dervan Halt knelt beside the body, hoping this victim would finally reveal something. The victims seemed random, meaning there was no clear target and no connection between them. Innocent people were dying without reason. Halt was stunned as he investigated the crime scene. Blood stained around the victim's body. After a thorough examination, he discovered that the victim had died in extreme pain.
Halt examined the jaw first. Fractured.
Then the ribs. Fractured.
The spine. Fractured.
It was as if someone had taken a hammer to every bone in the victim's body. Halt clenched his jaw. The sixth victim had looked exactly the same. The same shattered bones. The same lack of evidence. The same impossible silence. After failing to find any clues, Halt made a shocking decision -a decision that hadn’t been made in centuries.
Detectives are among the most important people in Necthera which have special access to things even higher rankings nobles are f*******n to see.
“You're not seriously going in there, are you?” asked Detective Kael Voss.
Halt didn't answer.
He simply walked toward the vault.
The detective Halt opened the big vault known as Archive Without Labels a chamber hidden beneath the stony roads of the big city which contained a thing that only the detective of the highest rank are allowed to use. For centuries the Archive had remained sealed. Even most detectives didn't know what lay beyond its doors. Yet tonight, Dervan Halt intended to enter. After two hours of searching the detective found the tapes he had been looking for from the 20 million tapes inside the Archive. As detective Halt sat beside the machine and inserted the tapes one by one in the machine but what appeared on the screen shocked him it only showed one line:
“He is coming back”.
Who was he? What was the killer trying to say to him? Detective Halt couldn’t understand a single thing. It was like an impossible puzzle with no start or end. In this state of shock Detective Halt saw his watch hitting 2o’clock midnight meaning it’s the end of the day so now he can un-wear his mask.
Detectives of the Necthera have a f*******n rule among them that is they can’t reveal their identities in any circumstances.
In the broad daylight, a young man walked besides the river bank, in a long black coat questioning himself:
“Seven victims.
Seven identical deaths.
One message.
"He is coming back."
“How can a single person do that?” he asked his partner.
That young man is none other than the remarkable Detective Dervan Halt walking with his partner Kael Voss.
Kael Voss glanced toward his partner.
"That's what bothers you?" he asked.
Halt kept his eyes on the river flowing beside them.
"What else should bother me?"
"The fact that seven people are dead."
Halt shook his head.
"People die every day."
Kael frowned.
"Coming from a detective, that's a terrible thing to say."
"The murders aren't what concern me."
Halt stopped walking.
"The lack of answers does."
For six months the killer had left behind nothing.
No witnesses.
No footprints.
No weapon.
No motive.
Only bodies.
And now a message.
"He is coming back."
Kael crossed his arms.
"You keep repeating those words."
"Because they're the only clue we have," said the detective.
While talking with his partner Halt enter the city square where everyone is looking happy children were playing merchants were selling their products and stunning ladies were buying clothes for themselves. To people this was another happy day.
Yet in the very center of the square stood something nobody seemed to notice. A black stone. Ancient. Weathered by centuries. Older than any building in the city. Thousands passed it every day without a second glance. Halt’s eyes held a faint hope when he saw the stone. The words of the Archive echoed in his mind once more.
“He is coming back”
The detective slowly approached the stone. Its dark surface was covered in cracks, as if time itself had tried to destroy it and failed. Only a single line remained clearly visible.
"The Nameless Can't Be Forgotten."
Halt stopped. A strange chill ran through his body. He didn't himself know why? But for the first time in six months Halt felt as if he had found the beginning of a trail. As Halt studied the stone up close, strange footsteps approached him. An old voice came from behind saying:
“You shouldn’t watch it too long my dear”
As Halt moved towards the voice, the old voice was gone but he saw a powerful wind approaching him. At the next blink, there was a boy standing in front of him handing him a note and the next second he'd gone. Kael stood behind him.
“Joy,” he said with a slight smile.
But Halt already knew what was written in the note. When he opened it, his suspicion proved correct. The note read:
Detective 8th victim has been found dead on street no. 54 in the Eastern district -Valhalla come immediately.”
Silence followed. Halt lowered the note.
“… Eighth victim,” he said.
Kael’s eyes narrowed. “Already?”
Halt didn’t respond.
He folded the paper and put it away.
Then he turned.
“Valhalla. Street 54.”
And he started walking. Kael followed immediately.
Behind them, the city square stayed the same alive, loud, and unaware.
Only Halt’s expression had changed.
Not shock. Not fear. Recognition.
As they left, Halt glanced once toward the black stone.
“The Nameless That Cannot Be Forgotten…”
He muttered under his breath.
For a brief moment the words felt less like history and more like a warning aimed at him. Then he looked forward again.
And walked faster.