Frank approached the bodies cautiously, his trained eye scanning for details. The sickly-sweet odor grew stronger as he knelt beside the first victim. He recognized the telltale signs of cyanosis—the bluish tinge to the skin that often accompanied suffocation or poisoning.

"Mind if I take a closer look?" Frank asked, glancing up at Cromwell.

The Dragoon nodded tersely, his earlier bravado replaced by a grim intensity.

Frank gently tilted the first victim's head, exposing the neck. There, just below the jawline, was a faint red mark. His fingers hovered over the spot, remembering the eerie mark at the spa.

"What are you doing?" Cromwell's voice was sharp, tinged with suspicion and grief.

Frank met his gaze steadily. "Trust me. I've seen something like this before."

Without waiting for a response, Frank pressed his fingers against the mark. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, as if responding to his touch, ghostly tendrils emerged from the skin, writhing in the air before dissipating.

Cromwell stumbled back, his eyes wide with shock. "What in the name of—"

Frank moved to the second body, repeating the process. Once again, the spectral roots appeared, twisting and curling before fading away.

"It's the same," Frank muttered, more to himself than the others. "Just like at the spa."

Alan, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly blurted out, "The Tangmen disciple! It's exactly what happened with her!"

The room fell silent as all eyes turned to Alan. Frank winced internally, knowing his partner's tendency to speak without thinking had just complicated their situation.

"What spa?" Cromwell's expression hardened. He took a menacing step towards Alan. "You better start explaining, and fast."

Frank held up his hands, sensing the tension in the room. He knew he had to diffuse the situation quickly before it escalated.

"Alright, let's all take a breath," he said, his voice calm but authoritative. "We're all on the same side here."

Cromwell's jaw clenched, but he stepped back, giving Frank space to explain.

Frank stood up slowly, his eyes moving between Cromwell and the other Dragoons. "Earlier today, we investigated a death at a spa in the city. The victim was a young woman, probably in her early twenties, a disciple of Tangmen."

He paused, gathering his thoughts. "At first glance, it looked like a simple case of a heart attack. But when we examined her more closely, we found the same signs we're seeing here."

Frank gestured to the bodies on the floor. "Cyanosis, indicating oxygen deprivation. And those red marks on the neck—they're not bruises or abrasions. They're... something else, and I'm not saying that in slang if you know what I mean."

He described the spectral roots that had appeared when he touched the marks, watching as the Dragoons' expressions shifted from skepticism to unease.

"We don't know what caused it yet," Frank admitted. "But it's clear these deaths are connected. The spa victim, your squad members, and now these two—they're all linked somehow. There must be a murderer."

Alan nodded vigorously, relief evident on his face as Frank took control of the narrative.

"It was reported that the victim at the spa died of a heart attack," Frank continued. "It's as if something caused it." He gestured to the bodies. "I'd bet we're looking at the same cause of death."

Cromwell's brow furrowed. "You're saying something... supernatural killed our people?"

Frank smirked, "I mean, aren't all of you part of Aur?"

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

Ollie shook his head at Frank, clearly showing disapproval at what he had just said.

Frank continued, "I'm saying we're dealing with something we don't fully understand yet. But we'll eventually get to the bottom of this."

***

Frank, Alan, and Ollie settled into a corner booth of a bustling Guangzhou restaurant. The air was thick with the aroma of sweet spices and sizzling meats, a cacophony of Cantonese chatter filling the space. Frank's eyes darted around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings as he absently flipped through the menu.

"Anyone understand what half of this stuff is? Ollie's magic ain't working from reading." Alan muttered, squinting at the Chinese characters.

Ollie grinned, reaching for the menu. "Allow me, gentlemen. I'll order us some local specialties."

As Ollie rattled off their order to a waiting server, Frank's attention was drawn to a small television mounted on the wall. The screen flickered with rapid-fire images and text, a stark contrast to the polished news broadcasts he was accustomed to.

"What's that?" Frank asked, nodding towards the TV.

Ollie glanced up. "Douyin. It's like Chinese TikTok. Short videos, live streams, that sort of thing."

Frank leaned in, trying to make sense of the rapid Cantonese. A young woman's face filled the screen, her expression grave as she spoke urgently into the camera.

Ollie's brow furrowed as he listened. "She's talking about a district in Guangzhou. Says it's... haunted. Maybe it's the one we're in right now?"

Alan snorted. "Haunted? I don't like the sound of that, Frank. My house is already haunted. Why do we keep going to haunted places?"

The broadcast continued, revealing a chilling detail: dozens of locals had succumbed to sudden, unexplained heart attacks. Frank's gaze remained fixed on the screen, his mind already piecing together the puzzle, while Alan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his paranoia spiking at the mention of the word "haunted." Ollie, on the other hand, watched the broadcast with apathy, his fingers drumming restlessly on the armrest as he kept looking at the dishes passing by their table.

A heavy silence fell over their table, broken only by the clatter of dishes and the continued chatter of the other diners, oblivious to the chilling news.

Frank's mind raced, connecting the dots between the spa victim, the Dragoons' fallen comrades, and now these reports of mass deaths. The spectral roots, the cyanosis, the unexplained heart failures—it all pointed to something far beyond the realm of ordinary crime.

Frank's mind continued to race with possibilities as he processed the chilling news from the television. He glanced at Alan, noticing his partner's silence and the way his hands trembled slightly as he fidgeted with his napkin.

"You alright there, Alan?" Frank asked, his voice low and concerned.

Alan swallowed hard, his eyes darting nervously around the restaurant before settling back on Frank. "I... I don't know, man. Every time I saw those ghostly tendrils come out of the bodies, my heart just drops. It's like... I can't explain it."

Frank leaned in closer, his brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"It's just a feeling, you know? Like maybe..." Alan hesitated, lowering his voice even further. "Maybe whoever—or whatever—killed them, that ghost or whatever it is, actually caused the heart attacks while it was killing the victims. It's possible, right? I mean it's just my thoughts but… it's just my hunch."

The words sent a chill down Frank's spine. His mind flashed back to the video he'd watched in Ryan's office, the eerie red silhouette and its devastating effects. The similarities were too striking to ignore.

"You might be onto something, Alan," Frank muttered, his eyes distant as he recalled the footage. "I saw a video in Ryan's office. It was a red silhouette that took Ian and two dragoons. When I saw her… my heart raced out of control."

"The effects were similar," Frank continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "The sudden deaths, the unexplained physical symptoms. It's like we're dealing with the same kind of entity."

Ollie, who had been listening intently, leaned in. "You think this is connected to the Red Death incident?"

Frank's jaw clenched. "I'm not sure, but the parallels are hard to ignore. Whatever we're dealing with, it's not just some run-of-the-mill criminal. It's something... otherworldly. Something we can't understand."

Frank's brow furrowed as he processed the information they'd gathered. The weight of the mystery pressed down on him, each new piece of evidence only adding to the complexity of the puzzle.

Ollie leaned back in his seat, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You know, there's a lot we don't understand even in Aur. The other world, the rifts, the creatures—we're still learning about them every day."

Frank nodded, his mind drifting to the USB stick Carl had given him. He'd almost forgotten about it in the whirlwind of recent events.

"That reminds me," he said, his voice low. "The USB stick Carl gave me—it pointed to a village up north from here. On a small mountain."

Alan's eyes widened, a hint of fear creeping into his voice. "We have to go there, don't we?"

Frank nodded grimly.

Alan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his paranoia evident in the way his eyes darted around the restaurant. "Is it... is it also haunted?"

"Oh, come on, man. You're taller than me, and you're acting like a baby." Ollie rolled his eyes, exasperation clear in his voice. He fixed Alan with a stern look. "It's time to man up. We've faced worse than a potentially haunted village. Seeing another beast or two won't hurt you."

Frank watched the exchange, noting the tension in Alan's shoulders and the playful pair of eyes on Ollie. Despite the gravity of their situation, he couldn't help but feel a small surge of affection for his mismatched team.