The sun was low, casting gold across the steel tracks. Inside the rickety train car, two figures sat opposite one another.
One was lean and sharp-eyed, dressed in a coat too long for his body, boots polished like a soldier's—Donarenzo, now twenty, eyes cold but alert.
The other was taller, bulkier, with a loosened tie, a book half-open in his lap and a smirk on his lips—Archibalt, still very much the troublemaker he was as a boy.
"You think the city's still got rats?" Archibalt asked, tapping his boot on the floor.
"It's Luvino," Donarenzo said, not looking up. "The rats run the government."
Archibalt chuckled. "Good. I missed it."
"You missed the smell of piss and betrayal?"
"I missed you getting dramatic over nothing."
Donarenzo cracked a rare smirk. "Only thing dramatic is your cologne."
"Hey. That cologne landed me a date with the merchant's daughter in Nirisca."
"She was blind, Arch."
"She was a good listener, Donnie."
They both laughed. And for a second, the weight of the city ahead didn't feel so heavy.
After their witty banter on the train,
Donarenzo and Archibalt arrive at the Luvino train station. It's dusk. The atmosphere is hazy and tense. They're greeted not by a fanfare, but by a single figure leaning against a lantern post.
Lucien Valemont, dressed in a sharp, dark coat with a silver pocket watch, eyes them both with piercing calm.
"So," Lucien says flatly, "the ghosts return."
Archibalt raises an eyebrow. "Damn, I thought you'd be fatter."
"And I thought you'd have matured." Lucien replies, deadpan.
Donarenzo steps forward. "Lucien."
"Still alive, I see. A miracle."
"We didn't come to fight."
"Good. You'd lose."
(pause)
"You've been busy," Donarenzo says.
"Someone had to be," Lucien replies. "While you were wandering the world chasing ghosts, I stayed here... and cleaned up after your mother's murder."
There was a long moment of silence filled with tension and displeasure between Lucien and Donarenzo, but then Archibalt chimed in to help ease that tension.
"Wait now." Archibalt says with a playful tone, "We can't be fighting among ourselves, that defeats the point of us joining forces."
Donarenzo tilts his head slightly back, "Are you telling me that I have to work alongside him?"
"I would rather kill myself on the spot but Archibalt gave me an enticing proposition."
Lucien interjects scoffing at the thought
Archibalt steps forward and puts his hand on Donarenzo's shoulder, "Listen Donnie, I wouldn't have asked for his help if I really thought we were capable on our own, but to be completely honest we lack a whole lot."
His tone now serious, "I hate to admit it but I've hit my limit when it comes to skills, and you have yet to live up to your potential. Right now Lucien is our best bet."
Lucien says in a mocking tone, "You heard him. I'm your only hope. You can't live up to Archibalt's expectations but I can surpass them."
Donarenzo looks down and balls his hands into a fist out of frustration, "Tch, fine… but don't expect me to treat him like an ally. He hasn't made his intentions clear and I won't put my life in the hands of someone I can't trust.
"Well then" Lucien says in his mocking tone, "Rest assured, I had no intention of being an ally to you anyways."
"I accepted this partnership purely for my own amusement."
Lucien stares sharply at Donarenzo, "The thought of being on the same team as a sewer rat who couldn't even possess the skill to put his mother's killer to justice, it just sickens me beyond belief."
Donarenzo flinches, with no words to counter what Lucien said he just stayed quiet. It was entirely true, he lacked the skill to do the one thing he wanted to do most and the worst part is that it was Lucien who completed that goal for him.
Lucien adjusts his gloves, gaze sharp but... fleetingly softer.
"Don't fall behind, Donnie," he mutters, so low only Donarenzo can hear. "I don't want to have to clean up after you again."
And with that, Lucien turns, already striding toward the city's shadows—where their real enemy awaits.
After the trios tension filled banter they walked through city scape and flickered like shadows in the light of the night. They reached an old looking house and Lucien opened the door to go inside. The interior was a lot nicer to look at, the floors were a beautiful wood design and the walls were brick- it gave a sense of comfort. It seemed as though Lucien, albeit an irritating ally, was one that appreciated comfortability.
Lucien walked into the kitchen and got some water to boil. He came back and then gave his company a sharp stare, "Well, aren't you going to take a seat? Or would you rather stand there like an ostrich?"
The two detectives took their cue and had a seat, they dropped their guard and let themselves rest a bit. They got into conversation while Lucien was preparing tea.
Then — a loud knock at the door.
Archibalt turned, eyes narrowing. "Who the hell could that be?"
Before anyone could answer, the door creaked open and a young messenger boy stumbled in, out of breath, clutching a crumpled note sealed with the Luvino Guard's crest. His face was pale as ash.
"Message… urgent… Captain Halden said it's a case for the Detectives of Luvino — said no one else could handle it…"
Archibalt took the letter, cracked the seal, and unfolded it. His eyes scanned the page, and the color drained from his face.
"Damn it…" he muttered.
Donarenzo stepped forward. "What is it?"
Archibalt hesitated for a heartbeat, then read aloud:
'Another girl found dead at dawn — clean cuts, ears removed, the mark carved deep into her chest. Witnesses say the murder happened in the open, but no one recalls seeing the killer. The pattern matches the previous four killings. The city is in panic. Your expertise is requested at once.'
Lucien smirked, his tone low and knowing. "The Hadenian Wraith…"
Donarenzo's fists clenched. "You know of this?"
Lucien crossed his arms, leaning against the wall, his voice laced with disdain. "Of course I do. You think I don't study the filth that leaks across our borders? This reeks of Hadenia's filth. That cursed place…"
The room seemed to darken as the name was spoken.
Hadenia. A land shrouded in shadow, a kingdom where the unlucky were born and the damned chose to stay. Its streets teemed with thieves, murderers, and practitioners of forbidden arts — mind-readers, soul-thieves, conjurers of darkness. Even its rulers were said to be puppets of some ancient evil. In Hadenia, survival meant becoming worse than the monsters around you. Those who left its borders often brought nightmares with them — nightmares like this.
"No surprise one of their kind has slipped into Luvino," Lucien continued, his voice almost a whisper. "Hadenia's filth always leaks where it isn't wanted. And now they stain our streets."
The messenger boy's voice trembled. "The captain said to meet him at the scene… Street Allegrim. Near the east church."
Archibalt folded the letter and met their gaze. "Looks like we don't have a choice. We move now."
Donarenzo glared at Lucien, his voice low and bitter. "Just stay out of my way."
Lucien chuckled darkly. "Wouldn't dream of it."
And with that, the detectives stepped out into the cold midnight air, heading toward the place where death had left its mark.
The trio moved quickly through Luvino's narrow veins — streets slick with grime, the air thick with fog and smoke. Gas lamps flickered, casting pale halos over the cobbled stones. The city felt half-dead at this hour, as if holding its breath for what horror the night might bring.
Street Allegrim came into view — a crooked stretch lined with crumbling buildings and crooked signs, where even the rats seemed to think twice about lingering. Near the east church, a ring of guards stood, lanterns raised, faces pale.
And at their feet, the latest victim lay — a young woman no older than twenty, her lifeless body arranged with eerie care.
Her chest bore a deep, precise W, carved as if by a surgeon's hand. Both ears were gone, cleanly removed. Her eyes stared at the sky, empty of fear — or perhaps emptied of everything.
Captain Halden was easy to spot.
Broad-shouldered, with a thick coat draped over his uniform and a red sash of rank across his chest, he barked orders at his men with the force of a cannon. His eyes — sharp and burning with frustration — snapped to the trio as they approached.
"You're late," he growled. "While you were sipping tea, another girl died. Another earless corpse to haunt my streets."
Archibalt lifted his hands, trying to ease the man's fury. "Easy, Captain. We came as soon as we got your message."
Halden scoffed. "Not soon enough. You think I like asking for your help? I don't. But this… this Wraith has made a mockery of my guards. Kills in public, no trace, no witness. And now the church's hounds are breathing down my neck, accusing me of incompetence. I won't stand for it."
Lucien studied the scene coldly. "And yet here you are, Captain — begging."
Halden's face reddened, but he forced himself to calm. "Fine. You're here. I'll take what help I can get. And not just yours."
The Captain crossed his arms.
"I've called in someone who knows these streets better than any of you — maybe even better than your pet genius here." He jerked his head at Lucien.
Lucien's brow twitched. "Is that so?"
"Alice Cüninn," Halden said, spitting the name like it burned his tongue. "A cat burglar. A criminal. But no one moves through Luvino's underbelly like her. If anyone can find where this Wraith hides, it's her."
At the mention of her name, Donarenzo froze for just a breath — but it was enough. His gaze flickered downward, his jaw clenched ever so slightly, and his hands twitched at his sides before he masked the reaction beneath his usual cold stare.
Archibalt noticed — but said nothing.
Lucien's eyes flicked to Donarenzo with mild curiosity, filing the reaction away for later.
Halden didn't notice. He was too busy turning back to the scene. "Come. See what this monster left us. And pray your minds are as sharp as your mouths."
The trio crouched by the body, eyes scanning the scene in grim silence.
Donarenzo's gaze swept over the girl's lifeless form — the carved W, the missing ears — but something felt... off.
Lucien's eyes narrowed, sharp as a hawk's. His nose twitched slightly.
"Do you smell that?" he muttered.
Archibalt frowned. "Smell what?"
Lucien straightened slowly, gaze flicking toward the shadows. "Smoke. Faint… like something burning, but not wood. Something... acrid. Alchemical."
Donarenzo, following Lucien's tension, noticed it then — a hint of that strange, bitter scent clinging to the cold air.
His eyes dropped to the cobbles — and there, just beyond the edge of the lantern light, lay a faint smear. A single bloody footprint, small and almost hidden by grime.
Archibalt saw it to
o. "That wasn't in the reports."
The wind shifted.
And from deeper in the alley came the sound of soft, deliberate footsteps — slow, measured… then stopping, just out of sight.