Alaric sat alone in his study, sifting through stacks of reports and documents. Each page painted a disturbing pattern of people gone missing over the past few weeks, their names hauntingly absent from their homes and families. The weight of the disappearances sat heavy on him, his instincts telling him that these weren't isolated incidents. The silence of his study, usually a comfort, felt stifling as he reviewed each unsettling report.
A soft knock at the door broke his concentration. He glanced at the clock—too late for any expected visitors. Tension prickled at the back of his neck, but he called out, "Come in."
Jonathan entered, carrying a steaming mug of coffee and an envelope. Alaric immediately noticed Jonathan's furrowed brow and the wary way he held the envelope, as if it contained more than just words. Alaric's eyes narrowed.
"Tell me it's not what I'm thinking," he muttered, only half-joking. Jonathan's expression confirmed his suspicion.
