The Igniter

Next morning, they set out on a tour of the city. The local high street was extremely busy, most tourists seemingly unconcerned with the killings. They stopped by a few places but found no clue.

“The police seem to be everywhere,” Olivia said.

“The high street and the hiking trails are a bit notorious and a few robberies have taken place over the past few months,” Romos explained.

After roaming around for a couple of hours they finally headed towards the museum. It was an old building, mainly displaying paintings, old volumes of books, a few daggers and some ancient pots that looked like cauldrons.

“Huh, those must amuse some people who think that witches have hooked noses, wear pointed hats and fly on brooms,” Romos commented as he gestured towards the cauldrons.

“Can I help you?” a sharp voice said suddenly, startling Romos.

They turned around to see a young woman in her early 20s. She had frizzy hair and was wearing a uniform. She spoke with a heavy accent.

“My name is Annie and I