The sun had barely risen when Yahya received the call. It had been a long night filled with dead ends and cryptic leads on Suraya's whereabouts, and he had hoped for a few hours of rest. But the world had other plans. The voice on the other end of the line was Detective Luq, a man known for calling in Yahya's team when things took a darker turn.
"We've got a strange one," Luq's voice crackled through the receiver. "A woman's dead. Whipped to death. But her husband's claiming... possession."
Yahya's eyebrow twitched at the word. In a city like Cinderfire, with the lingering effects of the Hollowing, cases of possession were all too familiar. Still, Yahya was sceptical. He grunted his acknowledgment and hung up, heading to meet the team.
The morning fog clung to the streets of Cinderfire like a suffocating veil, and the rain, relentless as always, pattered against Yahya Carter's worn-out coat. As he approached the crumbling apartment building where Selina Thorne had died, a familiar sense of unease stirred in his gut.
Yahya and Adam entered a poorly maintained building in a city's poorer district, greeted by cracked windows, peeling walls, and dampness that seemed to seep into their bones. The husband, Aman Thorne, had called it in, and his story was as disturbing as it was unusual.
Luq, looking weary and drained, met them at the door. "You're going to want to hear this one, Carter," he said, running a hand over his greying beard. "A woman's dead—whipped herself to death, they say. The husband's claiming she was possessed."
Yahya frowned, lighting a cigarette. The Hollowing had left the world scarred, with strange phenomena and whispers of hauntings. Possession claims were more common these days, but he wasn't quick to believe them.
"She whipped herself to death?" Adam asked, his voice low and sceptical.
Luq nodded, leading them toward the small kitchen where Aman sat, pale and shaking. "Yeah, and the marks… they're bad. But get this—she used a belt, one she used to discipline their son with when he was alive."
Yahya paused, narrowing his eyes. "Their son?"
Luq's expression darkened. "Yeah. A few months ago, our child jumped in front of a train. Selina has been unravelling ever since. Aman says she started hearing things, claiming she was being punished for his death."
Yahya's thoughts were racing as he released a cloud of smoke. The world had been impacted by the Hollowing, and people frequently lost their temper due to the stress of guilt and loss.
But whipping oneself to death? That was extreme.
As they entered the dimly lit kitchen, Yahya's eyes locked on Aman, a small, thin man with trembling hands. He looked like a man who had already lost everything.
"I didn't hurt her," Aman whispered as soon as they entered, his voice raw and hollow. "I swear I didn't. She… she did it to herself."
Yahya sat down opposite him and remarked, "We're not here to accuse you, Aman." "All we want to know is what happened."
Aman's gaze flickered to Yahya, desperate and haunted. "She wasn't herself. Not since Matthew died. It started a few days after the funeral. She kept saying… saying that he was talking to her. That she could hear him, feel him."
"And the belt?" Adam asked quietly. "Why did she use that?"
Aman's face crumpled. "It was something from when Matthew was younger. When he misbehaved, she'd use it to punish him. She said she deserved it. That she needed to be punished, just like she had punished him."
Yahya's jaw tightened. The idea of a mother using the same belt to whip herself after her son's suicide added another layer of darkness to the tragedy. But something still felt off.
The initial autopsy had revealed something unsettling—the whip marks on Selina's body were self-inflicted. The angle, the depth of the wounds—everything pointed to the fact that she had done this to herself. But Aman's claim that she was possessed, coupled with his admission about the cult visit, had raised enough red flags for them to take him into custody for questioning.
"Did you try to get her help?" Yahya asked, studying Aman's tear-streaked face.
"I tried," Aman's voice cracked, tears spilling down his cheeks. "I tried so many times, but she wouldn't listen. She said it wasn't her. Said it was something else—someone else—telling her to do it."
Yahya exchanged a glance with Adam. The pieces were falling into place, but this case wasn't as simple as a woman's grief spiraling out of control.
"You mentioned she was hearing things. When did that start?" Yahya asked.
Aman swallowed hard. "The day before she started hearing voices…or a week after my son's death, these men came to the house. She said they were from some cult—a group she'd seen once, long ago. They were strange, wearing robes, talking about how the dead could be brought back. Selina didn't say much about it, but after that day, she changed. She said they left something behind. But I never saw it."
Yahya's cigarette burned low, the ash threatening to fall. "Did you see these men?"
Aman shook his head. "No. I was at work. But Selina was scared. She said they knew about Matthew, about the pain she felt. And then… then she started hearing him. Hearing Matthew."
Adam shifted uncomfortably, his face set in a frown. "And you believe these cult members had something to do with it?"
Aman's eyes were wide, filled with terror. "I don't know what to believe. I just know that after they came, she wasn't the same. She kept saying that they were watching, waiting for her to… join them."
Yahya leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. The Circle of Sorn had been linked to similar incidents, preying on the weak and vulnerable. But this seemed more personal, more deliberate.
"Where's the belt now?" Yahya asked, his voice low.
Aman gestured to a bag in the corner, where the belt had been stored for evidence. "She kept it in the drawer, said it was the only way to make the voices stop. But it never did. It only made things worse."
Yahya stood, moving toward the bag. He pulled the belt from the evidence bag carefully, inspecting it. The leather was worn and cracked, and there were markings—small, subtle runes carved into the buckle. His stomach twisted.
"Jusof needs to see this," Yahya said, handing the belt to Adam. "These markings aren't just decorative. This belt… it might've been more than just a weapon for punishment."
Adam nodded, his face grim. "You think the cult did this?"
"Maybe," Yahya said, his voice dark. "Or maybe Selina did it to herself, thinking it was the only way to atone for her son's death. Either way, she wasn't just hearing voices out of grief. Something else was involved."
They turned back to Aman, who was staring blankly ahead, lost in his sorrow. "Aman," Yahya said quietly, "do you think Selina was possessed? Or do you think… she just couldn't bear the guilt?"
Aman's lip trembled, his hands twisting together. "I don't know. She… she said she couldn't stop it. That she had to do it. But maybe… maybe she just didn't want to live without him. Maybe she blamed herself too much."
Yahya nodded slowly. The weight of guilt could be crushing, especially for a parent. But this felt different—too orchestrated, too deliberate.
"We'll find out what really happened," Yahya said, his voice steady. "But if these cult members are involved, they've gone too far."
The rain started to get heavier as they were leaving the flat, carrying the dirt from the city streets into the gutters. The light flickered poorly in the wet air as Yahya started another cigarette.
"Looks like Suraya's reach goes deeper than we thought," Adam muttered, glancing at the belt.
"Maybe," Yahya said, his voice thoughtful. "Or maybe there's more than just Suraya at play. The Hollowing didn't just leave us with strange phenomena—it opened doors for people like this cult to thrive."
He flicked the cigarette away, watching as it disappeared into a puddle. "But we'll close those doors, one way or another."
The wind howled through the streets, and in the distance, Yahya could almost hear the faint echoes of whispers—remnants of a broken world, where the dead didn't always rest in peace.