Victor and Joahna stood in Vincent Hale's dimly lit apartment, the air heavy with tension. Joahna knelt beside the body, her eyes scanning the lifeless form of Hale for any clues. Victor moved methodically around the room, his enhanced senses on high alert, searching for anything that might explain how the murder had taken place without them noticing.
"The wound is clean," Joahna said, examining the slash across Hale's throat. "A single, precise cut. This was done by someone who knew what they were doing."
Victor nodded, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the room. "But there's no sign of a struggle, no evidence of another person here. And I didn't detect anyone else when we were talking to him."
Joahna frowned, her mind racing. "It's almost as if the killer was invisible or able to move without making a sound."
Victor paused, considering her words. "Magic. It has to be magic. But what kind? Invisibility? Teleportation?"
