"Suspect's name is Pili Rahal," Lavarsus said, shaking his head as he directed the officers to bring her in. "She has a known rivalry with the victim. She has often dueled with her. There've been far too many times that I've had to break it up between them."

I glanced around the crime scene. The body had finally been taken away and the clues found thus far were laid out on the table. The small hut felt cramped with Fleur, Lavarsus, two more officers, and myself all crowding in there. Taking a deep breath, I asked, "So is there a reason for this rivalry? Do you happen to know?"

He shook his head. "I don't know, what do I look like? You're the only one here who can read minds, Kairine!" he snarled as he bit down hard on the end of his cigar.

Finally, the officer he sent away returned with a woman in tow. She was Fey as well, judging by the pointed ears and tall stature. But her skin colour was different from that of the victim, Vianola. Gelvaran. Already, they're from very different cultures. But is that a motive?

"Does anyone want to tell me why I have been so rudely dragged down here?" the woman questioned, staring around at everyone. "And where's that witch, Vianola?"

You mean you don't know? I shot a look at Lavarsus. I really need to have a word with him about not jumping to conclusions. Shaking my head, I exhaled. "Hi, my name is Kairine Kamuya, and I wondered if I may have a moment of your time to ask a few questions?"

She glared at me for a long time, before shooting a look at Lavarsus. "Is this your idea of a joke? You drag me down here to speak with a child?" she asked, her words dripping with venom. Rude much?

"You will address her as Kairine, and she is assisting on this matter. Got a problem with that, you may call the Fae'roh's secretary, and he can maybe fit you in around six months from now," replied Fleur, shooting a grin at me. Good one. 

Pili did not take that very well. "Who are you to be speaking to me that way? Do you know who I am?"

"No, I don't. But I would like to get to know you without having to read your mind, if that's alright with you?" I responded, my tone calm and measured. She is really trying my patience.

At that, her eyes went wide. "Are you a Psion?" she asked, her tone suddenly a lot politer. Good, that's a start.

"I am," I replied, bowing to her. "Now, may I ask you some questions? How did you know Vianola?"

Her eyes looked around the room. "She's a witch. Her practice got a friend of mine killed," she said. Alright, there's your motive. "May I ask what is this about? Where is she?"

"Deceased," was Lavarsus' answer, his arms crossed. "Murdered last night." Remind me to have a word with you about your manners.

"The sergeant here tells me that you have been caught dueling with her in the streets many  times. Can you tell me about that?" I asked her, trying to keep things on topic.

"She was murdered?" she said, her face paled as she trembled and her gaze fell to the floor. She wrapped her arms across her chest. "I can't believe it. . ." Then her eyes shot up to Lavarsus. "And you think I have something to do with it?"

"Well, you said that a friend of yours was killed by her practice," I responded, trying to keep her attention on me. "Could you please elaborate on that?"

She sighed, pursing her lips. Her eyes drooped as she hugged herself tighter. "His name. . . was Hatem Arian. And he wasn't just my friend," she said softly, as a tear fell from the corner of her eye. I could sense a wave of emotion emanating from her. Grief and sadness. I shut my eyes tightly, taking deep breaths as I clenched my fists tightly. Fleur rested a hand gently on my back.

"I loved him," she continued, her voice cracking as the tears fell freely. She sniffled, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. My eyes scanned along her attire. Small pouch tied around her wrist. Copper hairpin in her long black hair. A bone needle stuck through her left sleeve. A corner of my mouth curved upward.

"Are you a seamstress?" I asked her all of a sudden.

She glared at me with wide eyes. "H. . . How did you know that? Did you read my mind?" she asked, looking taken aback, fidgeting with her sleeve. "I am offended that you would do that without my permission!"

I shook my head and raised my hand. "No, ma'am. Just good perception," I told her calmly. "Actually, I make it a rule not to read minds if I can help it, for I don't wish to invade anyone's privacy." Lowering my hand and cracking a smile, I continued.

"I noticed the pouch tied around your wrist. I thought that was strange and thought of what it might be for. Then I noticed the large bone needle stuck in your left sleeve, and remembered. Some seamstresses will wear a pouch around their wrist to hold smaller needles for quick access."

"I would also like to point out the callouses and wounds on your fingers. All of that put together comes to a seamstress," I finished.

She stared at me, dumbfounded, for a long moment before smirking. "You are good, young lady," she replied. "Yes, I am a seamstress. Very good eye. You have psychic powers and quite a bit of perception."

Lavarsus grunted. "If you're done showing off, girl, we've got a job to do! Miss, can you account for your whereabouts around six o'clock last night?"

She stared at him with a scowl. "For your information, sergeant, I was on an overnight vigil for Hatem. It's the anniversary of his death."

"So he passed away a year ago?" I followed up.

She nodded, pursing her lips as her gaze fell once again. "He was very sick, but he loved life so much. He was inspiring and I loved him for it," she murmured.

"I'm very sorry," I said softly. "I lost my father around a year ago as well. It still hurts. Every single day."

Lavarsus was growing impatient. "Yeah, yeah. Miss, can anyone corroborate your whereabouts last night?"

You, sir, have the worst bedside manner of all time. They should give you an award.

She stared back at him, clenching her jaw. "Sergeant, I have had just about enough of your rudeness," she growled at him. You and me both. "No, for your information, in our culture it is traditional to conduct these vigils alone."

Fleur nodded. "Yes, that is true," she responded. "It is a time of memorial and grieving. We hold those memories of our lost loved ones tightly, write it down, and then wrap the note and burn it. It is supposed to let them know, wherever they are, that we still think of them."

"So no one can corroborate your whereabouts, that’s what you're saying?" spit back Lavarsus. Even after everything, you're still stuck on her as a suspect?

I had had about enough of this as I stepped in front of him. "Lavarsus, you brought me on to this case because three other people confessed and shot a hole in your theory that she did this. She has just told you where she was last night, and I believe her. I do not detect anything from her that would tell me she's lying." I declared, gritting my teeth. "Now, if we're done here, I would like to see the other suspects."

He glared at me for a long time. For a moment, I almost thought he would throw me out. But finally, he grunted, shaking his head. "Fine. I'll go find them," he said, turning to Pili. "You're free to go, miss."

She gives him a curt nod before turning to us and bowing. "May we meet again," she said before exiting the hut into the scorching sun outside.

Lavarsus regarded me with narrow eyes, clenching his jaw for a moment before turning and stepping out as well, followed by the other officers.

Now alone, Fleur and I glanced around the hut some more. "Do you really think Vianola killed her friend?" asked Fleur.

Pursing my lips, I shook my head. "As she said, he was sick," I said with a sigh. "So it's possible that he came to Vianola for medicine, and it just didn't work. It's impossible to know if her medicine was the direct cause."

"Yeah, I really wish Lavarsus hadn't interrupted her like that," Fleur said, shaking her head. "I want to know who taught him how to speak to people."

Suddenly, my eyes fell upon something peculiar. Narrowing my eyes I stepped forward to examine the shelf. "Fleur, there's a void in this dust. There was something here but is no longer." I lightly traced a finger along the outline in the dust. Square or rectangular shaped. Could be a box. The void measured about forty-six centimetres in length and twenty centimetres in depth. A rather large box.

"Take a look at this," Fleur called out to me. Turning, I saw her perusing the shelves on the other side of the room. As I approached her, she pointed something out to me. Carved on the wall were several strange glyphs.

"What do you think it is?" I couldn't recognise the language.

"They're an Elvan enchantment. A ward to keep out dark spirits."

Her words sent chills down my spine. My gaze turned to her as she gazed back at me. I mouthed the words, "Necro Spirits." Then I turned back to the glyphs. "Why would she have carved these on the wall?"

She shook her head, stepping away. "I am unsure, Kairine," she replied, glancing around the room.

Sighing, I glanced back at her. "On the shelf over there, I found a void in the dust. There was something taken from there recently," I told her, trying to put everything together in my head. Some things just were not adding up for me. "It looks like it could have been a large box."

She glared back at me. "Did you say, 'a large box'?" she asked me with wide eyes.

"Yeah. . ." I muttered, approaching her. "Do you know something?"

She shook her head with a sharp exhale. "Before that, I would have said nothing," she responded, motioning to the wall. "But now, I have to wonder what kinds of things Vianola was into. . ." she paused, pursing her lips. "There is a legend from Olympus. According to the story, a kind-hearted girl found a box. There was a warning on the box to never open it. But she did anyway, unleashing a horde of demons into the world."

I stared at her with wide eyes as she told her story. When she was finished I said, "Pandora's Box." I shook my head. "I heard the same story in the Quatrica Islands as a kid. Is that what you think that box was?"

"Maybe. Nyselvan call Necro Spirits 'dibbuks', and in their culture, a dibbuk may be sealed inside a box with wards carved along the outside and inside," she replied. "It's possible that's what it was. If that's the case, someone is running around with a box containing a very powerful Necro Spirit out there."

We stood in silence as we pondered this for a long time. Finally, I asked her, "Do you know why she might have been holding on to such a box?"

"In their culture, dibbuk boxes are passed down in the family. Each generation is a guardian to it."

I started to respond, but before I could say anything, Lavarsus walked in, followed by three more people. The first must have been the tallest and burliest person I have ever seen, covered head to toe in thick, light-brown hair with deep-set mocha brown eyes and thick lips. A Wekan. You don't see them around Almahna very often. Their big feet outmatched everyone else in the room.

The next person was a Vikarahn man with a thick grey beard, thick brows and a square jaw, and short-cropped grey hair.

It was the last one that took me by surprise. He was a tall Fey man, dressed impeccably in a tailored forest-green suit. He looked back at me with a raised eyebrow but said nothing.

I approached the sergeant as he chewed nervously on the end of his cigar. "Let me guess, Lavarsus, he is who finally made you come for me?" I whispered to him, motioning to the Fey man.

He only gazed at me and nodded slightly. Right. This is a nobleman. This is a problem if he is confessing to a murder. It could create a scandal the Maji Guard just aren't ready for. 

Approaching the tall elf first, I bowed. "Hello. My name is Kairine Kamuya. I understand that you are confessing to this terrible crime?" I asked him. Can't waste time on subtleties with nobles.

He looked to Lavarsus then sighed before speaking. "I am. . . I knew her quite well. . . Please don't let the papers get wind of this," he responded, shifting his posture. "My name is Alaion Erqen, and. . . Please don't make me say it." As he spoke, his tone was jittery. His hands were trembling and he raised them to his face.

"Was she your lover?" I asked him. I examined his attire more closely. Ring on his ring finger. It's a wedding band. I spotted a bit of purple lipstick on the collar of his white shirt and his nails were chewed on.

He nodded nervously, glancing at the others in the room. "I am ashamed to say I was having an affair with her," he said, his head drooping as he spoke. "Please, don't let the papers hear about this!" Is he more worried about his reputation than blowing up his marriage? He covered his face with his hands as he began sobbing. As he did, I noticed the cuff on his left sleeve was undone and there was also a bandage on his left forefinger. Fresh, looks like it was placed there recently.

I felt a wave of anguish and pain emanate from him. But there was something else. Guilt?

Turning to the Vikarahn, I asked him, "Could you tell me how you knew the victim?"

He looked back at me with weary eyes. "She was a friend," he answered, his voice cracking. "A dear friend." I sense there's something more. Something he's not telling me. My question was answered as he quickly shot a glance at Lavarsus.

"There's more, isn't there? Something you don't want to admit in front of the sergeant, perhaps?" I asked, glancing at Lavarsus. He looked uncomfortable just standing there. "If you want, I can ask him to leave. I think he's perturbed with me anyway, because I keep ruining his case," I said with a smirk.

Lavarsus was not amused. "If he wants to incriminate himself right here, I won't stop him."

Yeah, I bet you won't. As I looked back at the Vikarahn man, my eyes scanned his attire. Water boots and overalls. Must come from the docks, is my guess. The man shifted, averting his gaze from the sergeant. "Alright, fine," he said, his eyes drooping. "I was smuggling plants for her from Olympus. Other countries too. I'm a dock foreman from Emerald Port, and she'd always been kind to me, the only one who ever has. So I did this thing for her, pro bono. I never even asked her for money, though she offered."

Illegal smuggling. That explains the discomfort around Lavarsus. So it wasn't just his charm. "How long did you know her?" I asked him.

"Four years," he said, looking up at me, a tear falling from the corner of his eye. "I don't even know why I killed her! I can't remember anything!" His hands went to his face as he sobbed. No memory of what happened, yet still says he killed her?

My eyes went back to the nobleman. "Sir, can you tell me why you killed her?" I asked.

He stared back at me as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "No," he responded, as he sobbed into his elbow. "I have no memory either! I just have this distinct strong feeling that I did. . . But why?" He slumped back against the wall, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I loved her. I was going to leave my wife for her."

I looked to the Wekan who loomed over me like a tall building. "Hello. I have never seen one of your kind before. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

He spoke with a loud booming voice, almost bursting my eardrums. "I am Sekiseeth. We are a rare sight, that is for sure. But our kind have fond stories passed down about your ancestors. They were good to us."

"How did you know Vianola?" I asked softly with a slight smile.

His gaze dropped to his feet as he spoke with a softer voice. "She was a good friend to me as well. She was the only friend I had in this whole city," he responded, his eyes watering.

"So it sounds like all of you knew her fondly, and thus would have no reason to kill her. Is that correct?" I asked. They all nodded. "But you all have no memory of the actual crime, just the feeling that you did it?" Nods all around. "Then what would give you the impression you killed her?" I glanced around at everyone. The Vikarahn and Mr. Erqen shook their heads.

"I think. . ." said the Sekiseeth, his eyes shifting between the other two then back to me. "I was under the control of a dark spell."

At the sound of those words, my eyes shot to Fleur, who stared back at me, pursing her lips. Wards on the wall to keep out dark spirits, and a missing box that might have contained a Necro Spirit. Now at least one of the three who claim they killed her believes he was under the control of a dark spell. Just what have I walked into here?

To Be Continued.