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Kira's thoughts drifted back to the events from earlier that day. It had all begun with something simple. Koa had insisted on taking her to the hospital, concerned about her health, particularly the persistent Vomits from the aftermath of the dreams. Who would have thought that a routine hospital visit would cause them to run into Detective Frost and his partner, Kamdi?
What should have been a chance encounter soon turned into something else, Something far too bizarre.
Frost had stood there, rigid and unreadable behind those dark glasses, as though concealing more than just his eyes. His voice had been calm, but there was an edge to it. "I'd like to ask a very strange favour," he had said, each word heavy. "Please don't ask any questions. Just... consider it. It's the only way to save his life."
Kira had exchanged a bewildered glance with Koa. She could feel the weight of her brother's concern through that silent look, but before they could even think to question the absurdity, Frost dropped the real bombshell.
"He needs blood," he had stated matter-of-factly, looking directly at Kira before quickly averting his gaze. Something in his tone had made it feel... plausible, normal even, though Kira knew it was anything but.
And then, before she could process what was happening, Koa had taken a small fruit knife, sliced his palm, and let his blood flow. Kira's body reacted instinctively, going over to her brother and gently holding his arm as her eyes flickered between him and Kamdi, who lay motionless on the sofa. Koa leaned over Kamdi, his hand dripping blood, feeding it directly into the detective's mouth. But Kamdi didn't stir, his body still lifeless.
Frost, meanwhile, had been eerily composed. He had quietly made his way to a nearby room, as though trying to distance himself from the scene, Kira followed. When he tried to close the door, she had reached out instinctively, her hand brushing his. The contact was brief, but Frost recoiled as though her touch had burned him.
The suddenness of his reaction cut deeper than she'd expected. It was as if he found her touch repulsive, as though something about her was... wrong. Her heart clenched painfully in her chest, and she rubbed the spot with her free hand as if that would ease the strange ache spreading within her.
A strange cold had settled over her body, like the chill that had gripped her the first time she laid eyes on Detective Frost. Why did he make her feel this way? Why did his presence stir something so unsettling within her?
"Who are you?" The question had left her lips before she even realized she'd spoken it aloud.
"You need to leave," Frost replied, his voice tight, his back turned to her. His posture was rigid, but something about the way his shoulders slumped made him seem almost vulnerable. He looked so… lost, as though burdened by an invisible weight.
Kira couldn't stop herself. She felt a magnetic pull towards him, something that made no sense but was impossible to ignore. As if in a trance, she moved forward and wrapped her arms around his back. She felt him stiffen instantly at her touch, his body as cold and hard as stone.
And then, the visions came.
Flashes she recognized disturbingly familiar—played before her eyes.
"Lotachukwu, you are a thorn in my flesh, and nothing in this world could ever make me love you. I sincerely wish you would just die already. It seems like the only way to rid ourselves of you."
It was the voice from her dreams. The same cold, biting words she had heard so many times in her sleep. Startled, Kira let go of Frost and stumbled back, the weight of the vision crashing over her like a wave. Panic surged through her, and she fled the room, barely aware of her surroundings as she ran straight into Koa.
"Kira?" Koa's voice snapped her back to the present, his strong hands steadying her. He didn't ask what had happened, but his concern was obvious, his eyes soft with worry.
By the time they made it home, Koa was lying on his bed just opposite hers, the ever-watchful older brother. Even though she could sense he was upset, he never pressed her, never asked her to explain either. But Kira knew him well enough to see how unhappy he was beneath the surface, tightly controlled and masked by his usual warmth.
She glanced over at him now, lying opposite her with that same gentle smile on his face, though his eyes betrayed his weariness.
"What?" Koa mouthed at her, his lips quirking upward into a half-smile.
Without saying a word, Kira slipped out from under her blanket and climbed into her brother's bed. He made room for her without hesitation, pulling the covers up and stroking her hair in that comforting way only Koa could. The steady rhythm of his breathing calmed her, and slowly, she drifted into an uneasy sleep.
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Kira found herself in a strange, dreamlike world—one she had seen before, in fragments and glimpses.
A young girl stood before her, barely fifteen years old, dressed in the traditional Igbo attire. She was stunning, her beauty so radiant it drew every eye toward her. An exquisite traditional wrapper tied around her chest, and another one wrapped gracefully around her waist, adorned with beads.
Beside her, a bright-eyed boy no older than eight bounded up, his energy infectious. His small frame was similarly dressed in a beautiful traditional wrapper, Parts of his torso exposed with beads hanging from his neck, arms, and ankles.
"Little sister," he called out in excitement.
Her face lit up when she saw him, her smile was so wide it made her seem like the sun itself, glowing with warmth and life.
"Are you going to the workshop again?" the boy asked, bouncing on his feet. "The new yam festival is in two days, and all the girls are at the market buying new clothes to impress!"
The girl laughed, shaking her head as she stroked his head softly.
"Thank the Gods I'm not like the other girls," she replied, her voice brimming with passion. "Why waste time shopping for clothes when I can create something far more interesting?"
The boy's face brightened, intrigued.
"Guess what?"
she continued, leaning in conspiratorially.
"I got inspiration last night. Big brother, do you want to see something amazing?"
The boy's eyes gleamed with curiosity, but his expression held caution. "Hmmm."
He paused, watching her closely, but the mischievous glint in her eyes was infectious. They giggled together, sharing a moment of joy, before noticing that a crowd had gathered around them, drawn by their energy.
In hushed tones, the two snuck away, disappearing past the bustling market, their laughter ringing through the air.
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Kira jolted awake, her body drenched in a cold sweat, her heart thundering in her chest. The remnants of the dream clung to her like an icy mist, disorienting her senses. She glanced at her brother, Koa, who laid next to her, still sound asleep. His face was peaceful, but a brooding turmoil plagued her mind.
The dream. It seemed like more than just a random, nonsensical projection of her subconscious. No, it was more—an echo from the past, perhaps, or a memory veiled by time. The girl in the dream looked so much like her, though younger, and the boy… She recognized him. It was the same boy she'd seen running towards her in that strange event at class: his name, Nazam. The name echoed in her thoughts like a half-forgotten secret, nudging at something deeper within her.
Her thought instinctively went to Detective Frost. His presence in her thoughts felt both foreign and intimate, stirring something inexplicable within her. Every time she thought of him, her heart twisted with a peculiar kind of pain, as though someone had driven a dagger into her chest. But why? She didn't even know him well enough to feel anything so strong, so profound. Yet, there it was, a silent ache gnawing at her, as if some part of her remembered him in a way she couldn't comprehend. Why was she even thinking of him at this time?
The dark room around her felt cold all of a sudden as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to shake off the chill that had settled into her bones. That's when she heard it. A whisper—low, raspy, and persistent. It floated in the air, brushing against her ear like a cold breeze.
"It's time."
The words were soft but insistent, repeated over and over, as though they were meant for her and her alone. Kira's breath hitched as she felt a searing pain radiate from the base of her spine, spreading through her body like wildfire. She bit her lip, stifling a scream, her mind a whirlpool of panic. She stumbled out of Koa's bed, trying to make her way to the bathroom, desperate not to wake him. But with each step, the pain intensified, until everything around her went black, and she collapsed before she could reach the door.
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Frost awoke with a sharp intake of breath, his muscles tense as though they had been primed for battle. Sweat coated his bare chest, and his mind buzzed with fragmented thoughts from his dream. A feeling of dread lingered, but he couldn't dwell on the specifics. It was a sin he had committed many years ago now haunting him. With a quiet groan, he reached for his cane and made his way toward the voices he could hear from the living room.
Kamdi, Ibe, and Nonso were deep in conversation.
"The skin was that of a child, male. Probably around ten years old. The pathologist said they found blood traces on the skin and when they examined it and found traces of propofol using GCMS," Kamdi was saying. "The skin had been flayed from the bone, but it was done with such precision…"
Frost entered the room, quietly buttoning his shirt. His senses were always heightened, but this time something in the air felt more oppressive. Kamdi noticed him first and smiled.
"You're awake," Kamdi said, his tone lighter than it had been earlier. He was fully healed now, no longer showing signs of the injury from the previous day's attack. He had slept for more than twelve hours.
Frost nodded, moving toward the kitchen to prepare some porridge. As he busied himself, he could feel the heavy stares from Ibe and Nonso. They were always amazed at how seamlessly he navigated his way despite his blindness, but it wasn't just his heightened senses that helped him; it was much more than that and they would never understand it.
Kamdi broke the silence again. "We've been going over the case. Have you noticed the pattern?"
Nonso jumped in. "The bodies… there's something almost artistic about how they're positioned, even in death. Gruesome, yes, but intentional. Like the killer is placing them in specific poses."
Kamdi's footsteps echoed softly as he walked closer. "I didn't notice it at first, but Nonso's right. Even with the brutality, it's like the bodies are arranged—no, curated."
Frost's mind began piecing together the scattered details. The victims, their missing body parts, the careful arrangement of their remains… It all pointed to something much larger than a simple spree of murders like he earlier suspected. The precision, the medical expertise involved—it screamed of someone with a deep knowledge of anatomy.
"The bodies are almost... pristine," The pathologist had said, his voice filled with awe and disgust. "Each one, even the most gruesome cases—their corpses are handled with such care. The skin isn't torn or bruised beyond what's necessary. No unnecessary cuts, no signs of struggle. It's as if the killer treats them like something sacred like they're being preserved, not destroyed. Even the parts that are missing—blood drained, bones removed—everything's cauterized as if to avoid any mess. It's disturbing, If I didn't know better, I'd say it's almost as if he worships these bodies, honouring them in a twisted way." Kamdi explained
"Explain the positioning to me," Frost murttered, finally sitting down at the table with his bowl of porridge.
Kamdi looked at him sharply.
''they are positioned in a bizarre way, it's almost like the positioning is pointing to something''
Frost stared ahead, his pupilless eyes hidden behind his glasses unfocused but his mind racing. "Put the nine pictures of the victims together does it spell anything?"
Ibe's voice cut through the tension. "Shit! why didn't we see this before? SACRIFICEthe nine bodies put together spells that"
Frost pushed his bowl away, the unease in his chest growing. He had seen this before. over four hundred years ago, in another life, when the world was different, and he was chasing THAT killer. A killer much like the shadow they were hunting now.
"Alchemy," Frost said quietly.
Nonso's brow furrowed. "Alchemy? Like… ancient magic?"
Frost nodded. "The killer is taking parts of the body that hold significance in alchemical rituals. They're using these victims to create something—something powerful, dangerous and he's not working alone."
Kamdi's face hardened. "So not only are we dealing with more than just a psychotic killer. We're dealing with someone who believes in dark magic?"
Frost's hand tightened around his cane. "Not just believes. Practices."
Ibe swallowed, his earlier confidence waning. "This is bigger than we thought, isn't it?"
Frost didn't respond immediately. His mind was still processing, still connecting dots from centuries ago to the present day. But there was one thing he was sure of: this killer wasn't working alone. Just like the one he had hunted five hundred years ago.
"The shadow definitely has an accomplice," Frost said, breaking the silence. "Someone who's helping them. Someone with just as much knowledge—if not more."
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Kira stirred, her head throbbing as she regained consciousness. She was on the bathroom floor, cold tiles pressing against her cheek. Slowly, she pushed herself up, wincing at the pain that radiated from her lower back. Reaching behind her, her fingers grazed the spot where the burning sensation had been the strongest, and she froze. There was something there—a mark, raised and hot to the touch.
Panicking, she stumbled to the mirror, lifting her shirt to examine her reflection. The sight that greeted her sent a jolt of fear through her.
It was a symbol. A black spiral pattern Intricate, ancient, and pulsing faintly with a light that shouldn't have been there. Her heart raced as she tried to make sense of it. What was happening to her? Why was this mark on her body?
Her hands trembled as the memory of the voice came flooding back.
"It's time."
Kira's breath came in ragged gasps as she tried to piece everything together. The dreams, the pain, the mark—it was all connected. But how? And why now?
She needed answers. And there was only one person she could think of who might have them.
Frost's apartment was quiet when Kira and Koa arrived later that evening. Koa had insisted on coming with her, after he tried dissuading her from going to Frost's. Kira, on the other hand, knew that whatever was happening to her, whatever this mark was, it was tied to the case that Detective Frost and Kamdi were investigating.
Frost greeted them at the door, his expression unreadable behind his dark glasses. "You shouldn't be here."
"I need to talk to you," Kira said, her voice firm despite the fear gnawing at her insides. "Something's happening to me, and I think you know what it is."
Frost hesitated for a moment before stepping aside, allowing them to enter. Kamdi was sitting on the couch, his eyes narrowing slightly when he saw them.
"What's going on?" Koa asked, his tone protective.
Kira didn't waste any time. She lifted her shirt just enough to reveal the mark on her lower back. "This. Do you know what it is?"
Frost's face remained impassive, but Kamdi's eyes widened in recognition.
"It's an alchemical symbol," Frost said quietly. "For possession."
Kira's blood ran cold.
******************************************************
The past few days had been grueling for Oke and his team as they worked tirelessly to uncover the mystery behind these drugs and the gruesome murders plaguing the small town of Mmiri. A town with just three hospitals, it should've been an easy job, but the closer they seemed to get, the more frustrating things became.
Oke sat in the car, parked discreetly outside the last hospital on their list. The sun had long dipped below the horizon, and the stillness of the night crowded them. His two subordinates sat quietly, their eyes scanning the surroundings as they staked out, hoping they come across something. It would be worth it from all the mosquito bites. Just as Oke was about to light a cigarette, his phone buzzed, slicing through the thick silence.
He picked it up immediately. "So… How did it go?" He leaned forward, anticipation threading through his voice as he drummed his fingers on the dashboard.
There was a slight pause on the other end before his subordinate spoke. "Boss… According to the nurse on shift, the hospital had recently reported missing a small portion of the drug from their inventory. It looks like someone stole it."
Oke clenched his jaw. "Could it have been a staff member?"
"She wasn't sure," his subordinate replied. "It could be a staff member, a patient's family, a patient themselves, or even a random visitor. There's no specific evidence pointing to any one person."
Oke leaned back into the seat, his brow furrowing. "Well, that doesn't narrow things down much, does it?" he muttered, frustration gnawing at him. His team had been at this for days, and every lead felt like trying to catch smoke with their bare hands.
The voice on the other end continued, "Boss, the hospital's security is terrible. They're understaffed and overwhelmed. Since they're near the commercial roads, they're constantly busy, and they even have to hire temporary bank staff just to keep things running as smoothly as they can manage."
"That would explain the laxity," Oke thought aloud, rubbing his temple. "How much of the drug are they missing?"
"Not a lot. It was such a small amount that they didn't even notice it right away. The nurse wasn't sure when exactly it was stolen."
"Of course," Oke muttered, feeling the weight of a headache coming down on him. "Get the names of all the staff that work there. I want a thorough look into every single one of them, including the patients' records from around the time the first murder took place. Maybe there's a connection there."
"Understood, Boss."
Oke was about to hang up when a sudden thought crossed his mind. "Wait... Don't forget the temporary workers. They might be key to this."
"Got it, Boss," the subordinate confirmed before the call ended with a soft click.
Oke let out a deep sigh, leaning his head back against the seat. The flickering streetlamp outside illuminated the hood of the car as his thoughts raced. His instincts told him that someone with medical knowledge was involved. The seamless accuracy of the cuts, the use of controlled substances—it all pointed to someone who knew exactly what they were doing.
Despite this feeling towards Nonso and Ibe, Oke couldn't ignore the fact that he wasn't the only one working hard on this case. He knew that as much as he was working, those two were doing their utmost best. Oke had once respected them, even looked up to them, but in recent years, their so-called "Midas touch" had faded, and their skills had dulled. Or so everyone thought.
Oke had learned long ago never to underestimate anyone, especially not rivals. He knew all too well how good Nonso and Ibe could be when cornered, and the fire in Nonso's eyes during their last encounter had unsettled him. That determination was still there, burning beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to flare back to life.
Oke turned his gaze out the window, watching the quiet street. He couldn't let them get the better of him. He couldn't let Nonso claim the glory for solving this case. The mere thought of it made his blood boil.
"I won't give you the chance," he muttered to himself, clenching his fists.
His phone buzzed again, pulling him from his thoughts. It was a message from one of his inside contacts.
New info. Got a lead on a suspicious temp worker. Name's Jide. Missing since last week, He's one of the bank workers at the hospital and he worked as a lighting staff for Diba's 'Embrace the Canvas project' charity shoot she did for upcoming Artists. Word is he doesn't like her because she looked down at him. We also found he was the last person she saw before she died
Oke's pulse quickened as he stared at the message. A missing temp worker; he worked for Diba? Could they be the map to unravel the mysteries surrounding the case?
"Start the car," Oke ordered one of his subordinates, his voice sharp with urgency.
The engine roared to life, and they sped off, cutting through the silent streets of Mmiri like a blade through darkness. As the car bounced over the uneven roads, Oke's mind whirred with possibilities. Who was this Jide, and why had they gone missing right after the drug theft? Could they have been the one siphoning off the drugs? And if so, were they connected to the murders, or just a pawn in someone else's twisted game?
As they neared Jide last known address, the quiet streets began to feel more sinister. The building itself was nondescript, just another aging apartment block in Mmiri. Oke stepped out of the car, his breath steady despite the anticipation pulsing through him.
"We move quietly," he said to his team, motioning for them to follow his lead.
The door to Jide's apartment was slightly ajar, a sign of haste or carelessness—either way, They were ready for anything. He signalled for one of his men to check the perimeter while he cautiously pushed the door open.
Inside, the apartment was small and cluttered, with stacks of paper and unwashed dishes littering the room. It looked like someone had left in a hurry. Oke's sharp eyes scanned the space, catching sight of a few empty medicine vials on the table.
"Bingo," he whispered, walking over to inspect them. The labels were faded, but the remnants of what was inside were unmistakable. A eerie shrine adorned with Scopolamine, maps of the areas where the victims were found, and a ticket used to rent a ferry boat days before Somi's murder which explains how She was moved from District A to Neon Light District. There were also Jagged drawings of a mysterious hooded faceless stranger with a writing underneath indicating it as the shadow.
His heart raced. The drug used in the murders.
"This is it," Oke whispered to himself, barely able to contain his excitement. Whoever Jide was, they were definitely involved.
Suddenly, a soft creak sounded from behind him. Oke froze, his hand instinctively reaching for his gun. Slowly, he turned around, eyes narrowed, scanning the shadows in the dimly lit room.
"Jide?" he called out softly, unsure if he was speaking to an empty room or someone hiding in the darkness.
No response.
Oke motioned for his men to fan out, sweeping the apartment for any sign of movement. The tension was thick in the air, the only sound being the muffled shuffling of their footsteps.
Just as they neared the bedroom door, it burst open, and a figure darted out—Jide, wild-eyed and desperate, clutching a small bag tightly to his chest. Oke reacted instantly, lunging forward to grab him, but Jide was faster than he looked, slipping past Oke and crashing through the apartment's front door.
"Stop him!" Oke shouted, tearing after Jide, his men following close behind.
The chase was frantic, weaving through narrow alleyways and dimly lit streets. Jide was running for his life, and Oke knew that if he got away, their only solid lead might vanish with him.
But Oke was determined. With every step, the pounding in his chest grew louder, adrenaline fueling his pursuit. His mind was singularly focused: Catch him. Get answers. End this nightmare.
Just as Jide rounded a corner, Oke reached out, grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking him to the ground. They tumbled to the pavement, the bag Jide had been holding spilling open, revealing its contents: more vials of scopolamine, a syringe, and several slips of paper with strange markings.
"Who are you working for?" Oke growled, pinning Jide to the ground.
But Jide didn't answer. Instead, he laughed—a low, eerie sound that sent a shiver down Oke's spine.
"You're too late," Jide whispered, his eyes gleaming with something dark and twisted. "It's already begun."
Oke's grip tightened, his pulse quickening as the words hung in the air. What had begun? What was Jide talking about?
Before he could press further, Jide's body went limp, his head lolling to the side. One of Oke's men rushed forward, checking for a pulse.
"Dead," the man confirmed grimly, standing back.
Oke cursed under his breath, standing up and brushing off his clothes. Jide was gone, and with him, the answers Oke so desperately needed. But as he looked down at the spilled contents of Jide's bag—the vials, the papers—he knew they weren't completely lost.
"Take everything back to the station," he ordered his men, his voice hard and steady. "We're not done yet."
As they packed up the evidence, Oke couldn't shake the feeling of unease settling over him like a dark cloud. Jide's last words echoed in his mind.
It's already begun.
Whatever was happening in Mmiri, Oke knew it was far from over. And if he wasn't careful, they might be walking into something far more dangerous than they could ever imagine.