Chapter 2: Amber Shadows

Lysandra stared into the dark, her mind racing, trying to make sense of the impossible. The scraping sound hadn’t been a trick of the light, had it? She had to know. But as the minutes stretched into an unbearable quiet, her thoughts began to tangle, spiraling further into doubt and confusion. The room felt colder somehow, the air thick with something unspoken. She tried to steady her breathing, but it was no use. She was alone. Or was she?

The sudden gust of wind outside rattled the windowpane, pulling her back to reality. Her fingers still hovered over the phone, but she couldn’t bring herself to call Mallory. Instead, her gaze shifted to the photographs spread out across the table before her, pieces of a puzzle she couldn’t yet solve. Her eyes lingered on the strange symbol, the shadow in the woods, the jagged claw marks—each one pulling her deeper into a web of uncertainty.

The heavy rain hit the windows with a rhythmic beat, a constant reminder of the storm raging for hours. Lysandra sat till morning in her small apartment, her eyes fixed on the photographs scattered across the table. The dull hum of the city seemed to fade away, swallowed by the unnerving silence in the room. Her mind was racing, every piece of the puzzle falling into place, but none made sense. The strange symbol. The shadow in the woods. The claw marks. The more she stared at her camera, the more she began to question what she had seen, and missed, and whether she was losing her grip on reality.

She rubbed her temples, the familiar dizziness creeping back into her thoughts. She needed to clear her mind, but whenever she tried, the nagging feeling at the back of her mind returned—something was wrong, and it was getting worse.

Her phone buzzed, jolting her from her spiraling thoughts. The name on the screen was all too familiar. Detective Mallory. She had been expecting this call, but it still caused her stomach to twist with anxiety.

“Lysandra,” his voice was sharp and to the point. “There’s someone here to speak with you. He says he’s investigating the same case.”

She paused, her hand hovering over the phone. “Who?”

“Detective Kaelen Blackwood. He’s—” Mallory’s voice softened for a moment, before he continued, “He’s not someone you want to mess with. Trust me.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Kaelen Blackwood. The name was like a shadow, lingering in the back of her mind. A legendary detective in their precinct, known for his sharp instincts and cold demeanor. He was a mystery in his own right—some said he was haunted by his past, others claimed he had a sixth sense for solving cases. No one knew for sure, and few dared to ask.

“Fine,” Lysandra muttered, already standing. “I’ll be there.”

The precinct was bustling when she arrived. Officers were at their desks, their voices blending into the background noise as she walked past them, heading toward the conference room where she had been told to meet Kaelen. She tried to steady her breath, Making a determined effort. Away the unsettling feeling that had gripped her chest. Something about this meeting felt different.

When she stepped into the room, her eyes immediately locked onto him.

Detective Kaelen Blackwood sat across the table, his back straight, his posture rigid. The dim lighting accentuated his sharp jawline and angular features, casting an almost otherworldly glow around him. His piercing amber eyes were fixed on her as if he were studying every minute detail of her appearance. His gaze was intense and unwavering, and there was a certain chill in it that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Lysandra Cole,” he said her name like it was an observation, not a question. His voice was low and steady, but there was a hint of something else—something that caused her to doubt his every statement. “I’m a forensic photographer.”Your photos are... intriguing.”

Lysandra took a cautious step forward, uncertain what to make of his cold demeanor. “Intriguing?” she asked, her voice guarded. “What do you mean by that?”

Kaelen didn’t respond immediately. He was still studying her, his eyes narrowing slightly as if contemplating something. He pushed a folder toward her, one that looked like it had been through the wringer. Lysandra glanced down at the contents, but there was absolutely nothing. Particularly special about them—just a collection of reports and photographs from previous crime scenes.

“I’ve been looking at the same murder series you’ve been following,” he said, his gaze never leaving her face. “And I’ve noticed something interesting about your work. You capture... details. Details that most people would overlook.”

Lysandra felt a prickle of unease. Her hands fidgeted nervously, but she kept her composure. “I’m just doing my job. Every photo tells a story. The devil’s in the details, right?”

Kaelen’s lips curled into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Right,” he replied. “But not everyone can capture those details. It’s rare. Many photographers quickly capture a shot of the body and its surroundings before rushing on to the next subject. However, there's so much more to explore and appreciate in each moment. But you...” His voice trailed off, and the look in his eyes shifted "Just for a brief moment." he was on the verge of saying something more, but stopped himself.

Lysandra’s pulse quickened. There was a hidden meaning in his words, one that she couldn’t quite grasp. “What exactly are you trying to say?” she asked, her voice steady despite the rising tension in the room.

Kaelen leaned forward slightly, his fingers steepled in front of him, the faintest glimmer of something—was it fear?—in his eyes. “I’ve seen your photographs, Lysandra in addition to the ones from last night. You’ve caught something. Something... unnatural.”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up at his words. She felt her pulse race, the air between them growing thick with unspoken tension. “What do you mean by ‘unnatural’?” she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

Kaelen hesitated before responding, his gaze never leaving hers. “You’ve photographed something... that doesn’t belong in this world. Something that should remain hidden. And I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She had seen it—the strange figure, the markings, the symbol. But could he possibly know about it? She hadn’t shown anyone yet, not even Mallory.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice a little too defensive. She hated how weak it sounded, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Kaelen was more than just a detective—he was something else entirely. Who understood things that most people couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

Kaelen watched her for a long moment, as though weighing her words. Finally, he slid one of her photographs across the table toward her. The image was blurred, the edges fuzzy, but there was no mistaking what it showed: the shadowy figure in the woods, just as she had seen it. The figure was distorted, but there was something in the way it moved—something familiar.

“Look at this,” he said softly, his voice laced with an eerie urgency. “Do you see it? The pattern in the background?”

Lysandra stared at the image, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the faint shape that seemed to ripple within the shadows. At first, it appeared to be nothing more than an odd distortion in the light, but as she looked closer, she saw it—a symbol, barely visible but unmistakable.

The same symbol she had seen in her photograph the night before.

Her breath hitched in her chest. She had thought it was a trick of the light, something her mind had conjured amid the strange events surrounding her. But now, here it was again—real, tangible, undeniable.

Kaelen leaned back in his chair, his expression hardening as he watched her reaction. “You’ve just scratched the surface, Lysandra. What you’ve captured is more dangerous than you realize.”

Her hands trembled as she reached for the photograph, her mind spinning. She had been right all along. This wasn’t just a series of random murders. It was something darker, something far more ancient than she could comprehend.

Suddenly, the room seemed to grow colder, and a whisper of something—something distant and primal—echoed in her mind.

A sound. A voice. A warning.

“Stay away from this,” Kaelen said, his voice low and final. His amber eyes bore into hers, a flicker of fear flashing behind them.

But it was too late. Lysandra had already crossed the line.

The weight of Kaelen’s warning pressed heavily on her chest, but the realization had already taken root. It wasn’t just about the murders. It was something far more dangerous, something she couldn’t turn away from now. She had crossed the line—there was no going back. She had to know the truth, no matter the cost.