The scent hit them first.
Not rot. Not decay.
But something bitter and familiar—lavender, tinged with iron. It clung to the air inside the crumbling halls of the Arakawa estate, winding through broken rafters and split floorboards like a ghost that refused to leave.
Rin's breath caught.
"Do you smell that?" she asked, voice low.
Kael nodded once, blade still drawn. "Lavender. But wrong."
"Too strong. Too… deliberate."
She knelt by the cracked tiles where the glyph had been etched. The blood hadn't dried properly. It shimmered faintly under her touch—reacting, as if alchemically preserved. Like the blood from the first body.
Kael crouched beside her. "This wasn't drawn for us to find. It was meant to survive."
Rin's mind was already racing. "Something in the air... it's keeping it fresh. A compound. It's not just blood—it's been altered."
Before she could analyze further, a sound echoed down the hall—a metallic clink, like glass knocking gently against wood. They froze.
Another clink.
Then silence.
Kael rose first, motioning toward the western wing of the estate. "Stay close."
"I'm not helpless," Rin whispered, already reaching for a small vial tucked inside her belt.
They moved down the corridor, footsteps silent, eyes scanning every shadow. The walls were lined with cracked portraits—former nobles of the Arakawa line, faces half-eaten by time. Each one stared at them with hollow eyes, as if waiting.
Kael stopped at a heavy door, half open. Inside, the remnants of a once-grand study lay in ruin. Shelves collapsed. Papers strewn. Bottles shattered.
And at the center of it all—an autopsy table.
Rin's blood went cold.
A second noble lay there, half-disrobed, with surgical incisions marked across the chest. Whoever had performed the examination was thorough. Too thorough.
Kael stepped forward, inspecting the tools—scalpels, forceps, bloodied cloth. "Someone's been working here recently. This wasn't a murder scene."
"It was research," Rin said quietly, walking to the table. "Someone was trying to understand what killed him."
She leaned over the body, pulling gloves from her satchel. The skin was pale, but not cold. Still slightly pliant. Still not fully surrendered to death.
Just like Isamu.
And there it was again—the mark. Etched below the ribcage this time. A slight variation, almost like… an evolution.
Rin's hand trembled as she removed a small sample of tissue from the incision. She sniffed it, and her eyes widened.
"What?" Kael asked sharply.
"This compound—it's not just alchemical. It's botanical. It comes from a plant… one that shouldn't exist anymore."
"Name it."
"Noctis Bloom."
Kael stilled. "The one the Empire banned?"
"More than banned," Rin whispered. "They eradicated it. It caused uncontrollable bleeding, neurological collapse. But that's not the worst part."
Kael looked at her, jaw tense. "What is?"
"It was irreversible. Once in your system, no cure. No antidote. You could delay the effects, but never stop them."
Kael looked down at the noble's body. "Then this wasn't just murder. It was a message."
Rin nodded. "A message to whoever understands what Noctis Bloom means. This was planted—on purpose."
Kael's hand flexed on the hilt of his blade. "And we're not just dealing with resurrection anymore. We're dealing with design."
Before Rin could respond, a loud crack echoed from somewhere upstairs.
Kael spun toward the sound. "We're not alone."
Rin dropped the sample into her pouch, grabbing a flask of defensive vapor. "We need to move. Now."
They rushed back into the hall, the sound of creaking wood above them now constant. Footsteps. Faint. Controlled.
Kael led them to the eastern staircase, sword drawn, muscles tense. "Someone wanted us to find that body."
Rin followed, heart pounding. "Why?"
"To show us the next phase."
---
Upstairs, the fog had crept through the broken windows, rolling in like it had a mind of its own. Every step was met with a groan from the floor, every shadow seemed longer than it should be.
Kael's instincts screamed.
They entered what must have once been a drawing room. Dust-covered furniture lined the walls. A fireplace stood cold. And above it—something new.
Carved into the stone mantel was another glyph. But this time, it wasn't blood.
It was burned in.
Rin's breath caught. "It's… part of a ritual sequence."
Kael examined it. "Can you read it?"
She stepped forward slowly. "It's incomplete. But I've seen this shape before. In forbidden texts. It's part of a sequence meant to stabilize resurrection. Like a lock that keeps the soul tethered."
Kael looked over at her. "Tethered to what?"
Rin's voice was barely a whisper. "To this world. Even after death."
They stood in silence as the implications sank in.
Not just resurrection… but control.
That's when they heard it.
A whisper—low, guttural, and close. Right behind them.
Kael whirled, sword flashing—only to strike nothing but air.
Rin spun too, flask in hand, ready to release the compound. But there was no one there. Just the fog curling around their ankles. Silent. Mocking.
Kael stepped toward the window, eyes narrowing. "We're being toyed with."
Rin nodded, a sudden chill creeping down her spine. "And someone's studying us."
Kael turned from the window, his voice quiet but sharp. "Then let's give them something to worry about."
Rin walked back to the fireplace and touched the burned glyph. It was cold to the touch, but her fingers tingled.
She looked at Kael, heart hammering in her chest.
"This poison," she said, "it doesn't just kill. It binds. The bloom—the alchemy—the blood. It's all part of the same chain. Whoever's behind this isn't just experimenting. They're perfecting something."
Kael's eyes darkened. "A weapon."
Rin nodded.
"A weapon that pretends to be death. But it's something far worse."
---