"Who the hell is David Thron?" Angelo asked, no recollection of the name whatsoever.
"He was a brilliant private detective here in Novaira, solved quite troublesome cases before... before he mysteriously disappeared 10 years ago..." The pain in Sol's voice was tangible.
"What happened to him?" Red asked
"He just told you he mysteriously disappeared, Red. Do you know what mysteriously means?" Blue shot at Red with cutting sarcasm.
"You want a piece of me? Huh?!" Red spat.
"Enough," Angelo shot at the two before addressing Sol "I'm very sorry to hear and all, but what does that have to do with you breaking into the archives?"
"To truly understand we have to go 10 years back..." Sol said closing his eyes, recalling that fateful day.
----------------------------------------
[10 Years Ago]
The morning light filtering through their front windows did nothing to soften the scene unfolding in Sol's childhood home. He stood frozen behind his mother, watching her world collapse as she fell to her knees before the police officer at their door. Her hand flew to her mouth, trying to contain sobs that seemed to shake her entire frame. The officer's grim expression and formally pressed uniform felt like an invasion in their normally peaceful entryway.
The words around Sol blurred into meaningless sound, as if he were underwater, until his mother's voice cut through with devastating clarity: "But how?! Where could he have gone?! Who could have done this?!" Her desperate questions echoed off the walls, transforming their home into something alien and wrong.
The officer shifted his weight, discomfort evident in every carefully controlled movement. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but at present we don't have answers to these questions," he explained, his practiced gentle tone somehow making everything worse. "All contact with David was lost this morning, and we've been unable to track his movements. I need to be clear - while we don't typically make this announcement so quickly, he's been declared MIA."
Something twisted in Sol's gut, an instinct screaming that this wasn't right. He fled to his room, unable to bear another moment of this shattered reality. But that night, driven by the same instinct that had been gnawing at him all day, he found himself creeping into his father's study.
The room still carried his father's presence - case files meticulously organized, the lingering scent of his favorite coffee, even the way moonlight caught the edges of his desk exactly as it always had. Sol knew exactly what he was looking for - the forbidden file, the one his father had specifically warned him never to touch. He'd always respected that boundary, but tonight... tonight was different. The file's location was no mystery; he'd caught glimpses of his father accessing it often enough. What he found inside, however, changed everything.
----------------------------------------
In the present, festival lights still painted the alley in warm colors that seemed at odds with Sol's dark recollection. Angelo leaned forward, completely caught up in the story. "What... what did you find?"
"Nothing." Sol's response fell between them like a stone in still water.
Red's materialized form practically vibrated with frustrated anticipation. "Are you kidding me? All that build-up for nothing?!"
"No, you don't understand," Sol's voice carried the weight of old revelations. "The nothing was everything. The file I'd seen my father handle so many times - it had been twice as thick. Half its contents had vanished, as if they'd never existed." His blue eyes hardened with conviction. "That's when I realized the truth. The police knew. They knew my father was hunting someone dangerous enough to make him disappear. That's why they declared him MIA so quickly. They knew he'd been silenced... and they were too terrified to do anything about it."
The bitter accusation hung in the air between them as Sol continued, his voice growing stronger. "Months passed before I found anything else - just a single misplaced memo. But that memo mentioned something called GHOST." His silver aura flickered to life, casting ethereal shadows across his determined features. "Right then, I made my choice. I would train, study, investigate - whatever it took to uncover the truth about GHOST and what happened to my father. And if revenge presented itself along the way..." His voice trailed off meaningfully.
The words struck a chord in Angelo and Red, resonating with their own history of loss and pursuit of justice. The festival preparations continuing in the distance seemed surreal against such dark revelations.
Blue finally chimed in, his scholarly curiosity evident. "What did your investigation uncover?"
"Not much beyond dark web whispers," Sol admitted, running a hand through his silver-white hair. "But the pattern is clear - GHOST appears to be an organization of elite professionals. They handle everything from theft to intelligence gathering... to assassination." His voice dropped lower. "Their trademark? Perfection. No evidence, no witnesses, no leads. They might as well be actual ghosts."
"Sounds like classic conspiracy theory material to me," Red scoffed, though his usual bravado seemed forced.
"The perfect crime does make for an impossible investigation," Blue observed analytically.
"Exactly - like chasing shadows," Sol agreed grimly.
Angelo's mind raced as pieces began falling into place. "No evidence..." he muttered, the words carrying terrible possibility.
Blue's azure form stiffened with sudden understanding. "You don't think...?"
Sol looked between them, confusion evident. "What is it?"
"My parents were murdered eighteen years ago," Angelo explained, his voice tight with controlled emotion. "The report confirmed foul play but found nothing - no evidence, no leads, nothing to point to any specific person or group."
"Wait, are you suggesting-" Sol began, his silver eyes widening.
"GHOST could be behind both cases," Blue finished, his scholarly tone unable to hide his growing certainty.
"Oh come on," Red's crimson essence swirled with agitation. "You're really buying into this? Based on some dark web ghost stories?"
"Your skepticism is noted," Sol countered, "but there's more. My father's other case files - the ones not in that main folder - they tell a story when pieced together. He scattered them deliberately, knowing they seemed innocuous individually. But together..."
"What do you mean?" Angelo pressed, his evolved aura pulsing with intensity.
"Every case shared the same void - no evidence, no witnesses, nothing but open questions. And here's the crucial detail - there were always at least two cases per location, spread across multiple cities. Not just in Novaria." Sol's voice carried the weight of absolute conviction. "Put it all together, and the pattern becomes clear. GHOST's signature is the complete absence of signatures. The lack of evidence becomes the evidence itself."
Sol's silver eyes caught the festival lights as he paused, choosing his next words carefully. "I'd planned to wait until after the New Light Festival, but today felt different. Something told me I was ready..."
----------------------------------------
[Earlier Today]
Afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows of Sol's apartment, painting long shadows across a table where he stood, shoulder bag packed and ready. His fingers traced the edges of an envelope with unusual tenderness, while his gaze drifted to a family photo on the wall. The image captured a moment frozen in amber - three smiling faces without a hint of the tragedy that would soon tear their world apart. His father's proud stance, his mother's gentle smile, and his own younger self, eyes bright with innocence long since lost.
"Sorry, mom," he whispered, placing the envelope beside his phone with deliberate care. The gesture carried the weight of a choice that couldn't be unmade.
Hours later, Sol crouched in a small tent hidden within the park nearest to the police station. The canvas walls rustled softly in the autumn breeze as he studied his hand-drawn map - created from memories of following his father through those halls years ago. Though the details had faded with time, the archive room's location remained etched in his mind. Beside him lay two carefully crafted trip wires, insurance against surprise visitors. One wrong move by any pursuer would give him the precious seconds needed for escape.
----------------------------------------
Back in the present, understanding dawned in Angelo's eyes. "So that's what happened with the trip wire earlier."
"But why target the archives specifically?" Blue asked, his scholarly curiosity evident. "Were you expecting to find explicit mentions of GHOST in police reports?"
Sol adjusted his tactical mask, which now hung loose around his neck. "Something like that. It was a long shot, I know, but it seemed like the logical first step."
Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!
"And what's step two?" Red's crimson form practically vibrated with morbid interest.
"Still working on that part," Sol admitted with a weak smile that made Red's predatory grin widen. "But considering we're both might be hunting GHOST, our goals clearly align."
Angelo's orange aura flickered with surprise. "Are you suggesting we work together?"
"I must advise caution," Blue interjected, his azure form radiating disapproval. "His methods are ethically questionable at best."
"Like I'm one to judge," Angelo countered, making Sol's eyebrows rise. "I literally just had Red doing something similar in those corporate archives."
"Yeah, and not to mention we found out about our parents murder when I snooped around the police's archives back then," Red added with obvious satisfaction.
Blue's sigh could have frozen helium. "I sometimes forget who I'm dealing with."
"So what do you say?" Sol's silver eyes reflected determination as festival lights danced overhead. "Two heads are better than one... or in your case, four." The last comment drew a snort from Red.
"I'll need time to think it over," Angelo replied, his tone carrying careful consideration.
"No pressure." Sol pulled out his phone, quickly sharing his contact information. His silver aura faded like morning mist as he turned to leave. "You know how to reach me when you've decided." He offered a casual wave that somehow carried the weight of shared purpose, then vanished into the festival-decorated streets of Novaria.
The trio watched him disappear, their minds churning with possibilities. The distant sounds of celebration preparations seemed to mock the gravity of their situation - while the city prepared for festivities, they stood on the brink of uncovering a conspiracy that stretched back decades. The implications of Sol's offer hung in the air between them like smoke, refusing to dissipate even as festival lanterns cast their cheerful glow across the empty alley.
Morning light filtered through Neiva's bedroom window, catching dust motes that danced in the air as Red rummaged through her belongings with characteristic restlessness. The room reflected its owner's investigative nature - cork boards, psychology textbooks inherited from her mother scattered across shelves, and the lingering scent of coffee from an oversized mug on her desk. As Angelo finished recounting the previous night's encounter, Neiva's eyes lit up with unexpected amusement.
"Man, that guy's good!" Her enthusiasm drew blank stares from all three versions of her mentor.
Blue materialized more fully, his scholarly demeanor carrying well-practiced patience. "Could you elaborate on that assessment?"
"You guys really don't know much about psychology, do you?" Neiva's voice carried the particular excitement of someone about to share specialized knowledge.
Red paused his exploration of her bookshelf to scoff. "Oh, and I suppose you're a masterclass expert?"
A shadow passed across Neiva's features. "Not really. My mom was though. She used to share insights about the field constantly - she was so passionate about it..." Her voice softened with memory before she visibly pulled herself together. "But that's not the point. Your mysterious friend pulled a classic psychological maneuver on you."
Angelo shot to his feet, his eyes glowing orange with sudden tension. "What are you talking about? What maneuver?"
"Think about it," Neiva leaned forward, clearly warming to her subject. "He redirected your thought process from 'Should I arrest this guy?' to 'Should I join forces with him?' By presenting that alternative, he ensured both outcomes worked in his favor."
"That manipulative son of a bitch!" Red's crimson form practically vibrated with outrage. "Everything he said was probably fabricated!"
"I disagree," Blue interjected, his analytical mind visibly processing the implications. "Sometimes the most effective deception is wrapped in absolute truth."
Neiva shot Blue an appreciative glance that spoke of shared academic understanding.
"Besides," Blue continued, fixing Red with a pointed stare, "haven't you appointed yourself our resident lie detector lately? Well? Was Sol being truthful?"
Red's agitation visibly deflated as he dropped into a chair. "Tch. No, I couldn't feel any lies. But that just proves how good he is at deception!"
"Wait," Neiva's breath caught as excitement bubbled in her chest. "What do you mean you couldn't feel him lying?"
"What's got you so worked up?" Something about what Red just said sent shiver's down her spine.
Angelo started to intervene. "She isn't getting worked up. She just asked a question, Red. You could at least-"
"No, he's right again!" Neiva cut in, her smile carrying such knowing satisfaction that it gave both Angelo and Blue pause.
"Care to explain?" Blue inquired, his scholarly curiosity clearly piqued.
"He correctly identified my emotional state!" she explained, while Angelo and Blue exchanged meaningful glances and Red looked away with obvious discomfort.
"I'm not following the significance," Angelo admitted.
"Blue mentioned Red being a lie detector 'lately' - has he successfully identified other deceptions?" Her enthusiasm made her practically bounce in place.
The memory of Jill's perfect housewife facade hit all three of them like a physical blow. Angelo closed his eyes against the pain of remembered consequences. "Yes... we encountered the Grim Reaper. She presented herself as this innocent woman caught up in events beyond her control. Red insisted she was lying..." Bill's final smile flashed through his mind, making him wince. "We paid dearly for ignoring his warnings."
Blue attempted to redirect the conversation's heavy turn. "Did you formulate a theory about Red's good intuition, Neiva?"
"I don't think it's just good intuition," her expression carried barely contained revelation as she suddenly called out: "Red!"
He jumped, clearly uncomfortable with her focused attention. "What?"
"What am I feeling right now?" she demanded. Angelo and Blue watched with growing fascination as Red's expression shifted.
"There's... pressure in your chest... it's rising... getting stronger- why are you-" Red's description cut off as Neiva leaped up with an excited shriek that made them all flinch.
"That's exactly right! Don't you understand what this means?"
They stared at her, uncomprehending, until Blue finally asked, "Please, enlighten us."
Neiva's face split into a triumphant grin. "Red is an empath!"
A long silence settled over Neiva's bedroom as they processed her declaration. The morning light filtered softly through her window, illuminating psychology textbooks scattered across shelves and newspaper clippings pinned to cork boards.
"What exactly is an empath?" Angelo finally asked.
Neiva shifted forward eagerly. "You know how telepaths can read thoughts? An empath reads emotions - they can actually feel what others are feeling."
"That seems impossible," Blue's analytical nature taking over. "Red's form is made of energy. We can only experience physical sensation through Angelo's body."
"Then that's probably the key," Neiva's eyes lit up with understanding. "Angelo's body acts as the receiver, picking up emotional signals that Red's consciousness interprets."
"... The theory has merit," Blue conceded thoughtfully.
"So what the hell does that mean for me?!" Red's outburst carried unusual edge.
"It means you have the ability to sense others' emotional states," Neiva explained, though something in Red's posture suggested this wasn't helping.
"What's wrong?" she asked, looking between them for clarification.
Red turned away in disgust. "Oh, this is just perfect. Blue gets to be the martial arts prodigy who can actually outfight Angelo, and what do I get? Feelings?" His laugh carried no humor. "Because this fractured existence wasn't already enough of a cosmic joke!"
The others exchanged concerned glances. "Well..." Neiva ventured carefully, "if it helps, this probably makes you better at manipulation than Sol."
Red didn't turn to face her, simply asked weakly. "How so?"
"Think about it - with psychological techniques, you'd have a massive advantage. You'd know immediately if your approach was working because you'd feel their emotional response. You could adjust tactics on the fly based on direct emotional feedback."
They could practically see the possibilities clicking into place as Red's trademark wicked grin spread across his face. "Yes... oh yes, you're absolutely right!"
"Neiva!" Blue's scholarly composure cracked with alarm. "Red creates enough chaos without adding psychological manipulation to his repertoire!"
"Too late, blueberry," Red's satisfaction dripped from every word as he rubbed his hands together with theatrical glee. "This particular cat is out of the bag."
Angelo and Blue shot Neiva matching looks of exasperation, drawing a sheepish laugh as she scratched the back of her head. The morning sun caught the guilt in her expression, though it couldn't quite hide her academic satisfaction at having solved the mystery of Red's unique abilities.
"Okay, enough about Red's newfound talents," Neiva straightened, smoothing her hair. "We need to get ready for Ashford tomorrow..." Her voice trailed off as realization struck. "Oh no - the New Light Festival starts tomorrow! We'll miss the whole thing!"
"Yeah... tragic, isn't it?" Angelo's deadpan response couldn't have been less convincing.
"It actually kind of is," Neiva slumped forward, her brilliant red hair falling to hide her expression. "I haven't experienced the parades since... since before everything happened."
"Were you elsewhere during the festivities?" Blue inquired, his scholarly interest piqued.
Red snorted from his perch on her desk. "Like it matters where she was? They shove this festival down everyone's throat across Luminia."
"No, nothing like that," Neiva's voice carried a weight that made them all pause. "I just... couldn't bring myself to celebrate anymore. But this year felt different. For the first time, I actually looked forward to it."
"You know, you don't have to come with us," Angelo offered carefully.
"Absolutely not!" The force of her response made them all start. "How could I enjoy myself knowing you're out there hunting for answers without me?" She looked away, clearly embarrassed by her outburst.
"Well, well," Red's predatory grin widened. "Neiva and Angelo sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-"
Before he could finish, Angelo's evolved energy shot through Red's form, dissolving him into smoke. His sing-song voice continued in their shared consciousness: "-I-N-G! What's wrong, Angie? Truth hurts?"
Neiva's horrified gasp cut through their internal exchange. "The floor!"
They all stared at the hole Angelo's forged energy had punched in the wooden boards. While it hadn't pierced all the way through, the damage was impressive.
"Damn it," Angelo muttered as his energy dissipated. "I swear I'll pay for repairs..."
"And here I thought Red was our impulsive one," Blue's disapproval radiated like winter frost.
"Don't worry about it," Neiva said softly, though her eyes kept drifting to the damage.
"Look," Angelo pinched the bridge of his nose. "Neiva, could you please explain to Red that you don't view me in a romantic way?"
"He's right," she began carefully. "I don't see you that way at all."
"Finally," Angelo directed at Red. "Now maybe we can-"
"But it's more complicated than that," she continued, cutting him off. "I can't imagine my life without you anymore. Does that make sense?" She studied her hands intently. "You gave me back something I thought I'd lost forever - hope."
"I understand the sentiment," Blue's scholarly detachment carried unexpected warmth. "But building your entire world around another person isn't healthy. You need to find your own light."
"I know that, logically," Neiva's voice carried quiet determination. "But this is the first time in years I've felt... alive. Maybe by walking beside you for a while, I'll remember how to walk on my own..." She quickly added, "If you'll let me try."
The silence stretched until Angelo broke it with an exaggerated stretch. "You know what? That's definitely a conversation for another day. Right now, we've got more immediate problems." He gestured at the floor. "I'll cover the repairs - after we get back from Ashford."
A genuine smile touched her lips. "Deal."
"Now then," Angelo clapped his hands together. "Let's make sure we haven't forgotten anything important. The last thing we need is to reach Ashford and realize we left something crucial behind."
They settled into reviewing their preparations, the damaged floor temporarily forgotten. Somewhere in the city, Sol waited for their answer, adding another layer of complexity to their mission. But for now, they focused on getting ready for whatever answers - or new questions - Ashford might hold.