3/3

TW: There is a light mention of hanging and graphic depictions of death. Spoilers alert: it's related to a murder. I was careful with this scene and the last one, making them as vague and limited in detail as possible to respectfully avoid upsetting my readers. Please read at your own risk! This is the final part of Chapter 5.

As Rhazien cautiously stepped inside the small and quaint old home, he was immediately struck by the peculiar atmosphere that enveloped him. A thick layer of dust on the windows obscured the outside world, casting a hazy glow throughout the living room. The furniture was arranged haphazardly, with a dated sofa and a couple of armchairs occupying most of the space in the living room. The sofa had seen better days, its upholstery frayed and stained in places.

The lifeless room was adorned with an old stone fireplace, which stood tall and lifeless against the far wall. Above the fireplace, a worn kettle hung by a rusty hook, its once-shiny surface now dulled by years of neglect and disuse. The fireplace was surrounded by a pile of dry, dead wood, which seemed to have been gathered long ago and left untouched ever since.

The walls were scattered with shelves overflowing with leather books, trinkets, and knick-knacks, some of which looked like they had been collecting a thin layer of dust. The air was thick with the musty smell of old books and furniture. Rhazien could see the dust particles dancing in the light that filtered through the windows. The kitchen was cramped, with an old gas stove that looked like it had seen better days as cobwebs decorated every corner of the room. The old floorboard groaned beneath Rhazien's boots as his gaze flicked toward the wallpaper peeling in some places, revealing the faded paint beneath.

Rhazien's gaze followed the staircase leading to the upper floor as they stood by the entrance. The wooden steps, worn out by time, let out a series of creaks and cracks as the two ascended the stairs carefully. When they reached the single door at the top of the staircase, an overwhelming smell of decay and rotting leaves caught Rhazien's nose, causing him to wrinkle his nose in disgust.

"Sheesh, the stench has gotten worse. Ick-!" James gags, stretching out his arm and pushing the wooden door open with his forearm.

Rhazien began to furrow his brows as he entered the small bedroom. The skeleton of what remains as a bed sat in the corner of the room while a small table was pushed up toward the window. The once-white walls were now yellowed and peeling, and the wooden floorboards creaked beneath his feet. In the opposite corner of the room sat a dilapidated wooden dresser with a few drawers missing while a dusty mirror hung above it.

Rhazien's eyes were fixed on the window, and what he saw made his heart sink. A surge of electricity coursed through his veins, causing a sharp pain in his gut as though he had been stabbed with a knife. The sight before him was sickening, causing him to avert his gaze away. All those years of hunting the creatures of the night and investigating mass murders and homicides - the many deaths Rhazien witnessed - it was something he never got used to, primarily when they used to be living and breathing people.

Rhazien's gaze was fixed on the rope that hung from the ceiling, and he couldn't help but notice something peculiar. As he surveyed the scene, he realized that there was no chair in the vicinity of the body, and the rope was not attached to the beams above. His scrutiny led him to the knot at the end of the rope, which was tightly secured to the leg of the bed, causing Rhazien to realize it was the same rope from the well.

Rhazien stops in his tracks as the bottom of his cane collides with the old floor with a thud. He turns his head toward his familiar before giving it directions.

"Cut him down," he commands as James stands ready to catch the body.

Then, with an explosion of movement, Corvus launched itself into the air. The air rushed past its feathers as it soared upwards, its wings beating with a rhythmic, almost hypnotic motion. As it gained altitude, Corvus spotted the rope. Without hesitation, Corvus angled its wings and dove towards the rope. Its body was a blur of motion as it sliced through the rope with ease, sending it spiralling toward the floor. It pulled up gracefully, gliding back to its master's shoulder.

James carefully laid the body on the floor for further inspection as Rhazien paced toward Mr. Blanks' body. With a solemn expression, he lowers himself to the ground. He carefully examines the lifeless body before him, taking note of every detail and feature that could offer any clues as to what happened. Rhazien glances back at the door before resting his cane against the corner of the bed behind him, his thoughts consumed by the gravity of the situation.

"It appears Mr. Blanks was not alone," Rhazien lifts the body's hand, further inspecting his nails.

"There is blood beneath each of his nails," he points out as James sits opposite Rhazien.

"Yeah. . . like he was fighting someone," James raised both of his brows as his forehead began to wrinkle.

"Given the body's discolouration and his cold skin, pallor mortis and algor mortis must have already set in," Rhazien explains, then sets down the arm.

"Rigor mortis, on the other hand, has already begun to take shape from the stiffness of his joints," he mutters as he lifts the back of the corpse's head. Dried blood coated the back of his neck as a clump of dark brown locks stuck together.

"He was struck at the back of the head during the struggle," he gently set down his skull as he began further inspection.

The fabric of his shirt was worn out and faded, with visible patches and tears in certain places. The seams were loose and frayed, and a few buttons were missing from the black shirt. Through his dark lashes, Rhazien's steady gaze stopped at the midsection of his torso as he began unbuttoning the corpse's shirt.

"Jesus. . . what did this psycho do? Remove most of his organs?!" James shields his arm over his nose as the stench worsens, throwing his insides into a frenzy.

"His liver seems to be missing. . ." Rhazien furrows his brows as he covers the open wound with the remnants of a shirt.

"And how do you know that?" James arches a brow as his mouth is kept gapped.

"It remains a mystery what our little organ thief wanted with his liver or whatever else he took," Rhazien sighs, leaning away from the body.

"They're skilled, I'll give them that. Knowing exactly where to cut takes skill, time, and expertise."

"Don't you think it's a little odd that they tried to cover Mr. Blanks' murder as a hanging -- then proceeded to steal his liver and poorly cover up his tracks?" James questions, setting down his bowler hat beside him.

"Indeed. The Greeks often believed the liver symbolized one's emotions, passion, and even wrath," Rhazien felt the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he went on further in his explanation.

"Why do I get the vibe - this is personal?. . ." James trails off, causing a bit to form in Rhazien's gut.

As Rhazien delved deeper into the evidence presented, he couldn't help but feel that each piece had been meticulously placed there to be discovered. The more he analyzed and scrutinized the details, the more convinced he became that a larger, more intricate puzzle was at play.

"Hell. The ripper was trying to silence Mr. Blanks. He is the only family left to the boy, Rhazien. Don't you think someone might have hired him?"

The idea stood as a possibility.

Rhazien's mind gradually became hazier with every passing moment as he kept listening to James, who was speaking at length. Despite feeling a growing sense of confusion and uncertainty, Rhazien remained silent and processed the information to make sense of it all.

"Silence. . ." Rhazien trailed off, repeating James' words as a lightbulb went off in his mind.

He reaches toward the corpse's head, gently placing his pointer finger below his jaw and his thumb on his dimpled chin. With his other hand, James watches Rhazien place his other hand flat against his forehead with a firm grip. What he was about to do wasn't going to be pleasant.

"God forgive me. . ." Rhazien's voice trailed off into a low murmur, interrupted by a sudden and jarring sound - a loud snap echoed throughout the empty room as he pried the jaw open.

"What are you?!-"

"Oh."

James watched as Rhazien inspected the body, noticing the discoloured tongue sat oddly as if something was beneath. His gloved hand gently lifts the tongue, noticing something tucked under the tongue. In the serene embrace of antiquity, Rhazien unearthed a time-worn parchment nestled beneath the shroud of the man's eloquence. With deliberate poise, Rhazien maintained a steady yet stable approach as his gloved hand pinched the rolled parchment. Persistently, the versatile action of uncovering the parchment revealed a slick, repugnant mixture of nauseating residue that remained unsightly if found earlier. Unveiling this hidden enigma roused an atmosphere of solemn reverence, blending the mystique of secrecy with a profound essence of disclosure. 

However, the revelation to Rhazien surpassed mere chance, evoking a deep sense that destiny had orchestrated the unearthing of this mystery as if the scroll symbolized a timeless waltz of enlightenment and unveiling.

With a deep breath, he delicately applied pressure with the tips of his thumbs, causing the wax seal to break open with a satisfying crack. His lips pursed together in concentration as he unfolded the parchment, anticipating its contents.

Its edges were frayed, and some parts had started to tear. The single sentence written on it sent shivers down his spine before reading it out loud, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Bury me in the curses that still hold me. . ."

Unknowingly, an anonymous figure sat perched on the roof's crown across the home. Their lips pulled into a sinister yet amusing grin as they watched Rhazien's every action.

"Let the hunt begin. . ."