Aria arrived at the treehouse under a thick cloak of midnight darkness. The drive had been long, and now, as she parked and stepped out of the car, she felt the weight of her exhaustion settle over her. But she couldn't let her guard down just yet. Opening the backseat, she reached for her bag, pulled out her phone, and flicked on its flashlight. The thin beam cut through the pitch-black surroundings, revealing only the dense, silent trees around her. Her elven ears twitched, scanning for any unusual sounds. But there was only the soft rustle of leaves. She exhaled in relief.
The treehouse was just ahead, close enough that she could reach it in a short walk. With her backpack slung over one shoulder, Aria made her way to the ladder. She climbed, careful not to make too much noise, her pulse quickening in the silence. Once she reached the top, she set her bag inside, then climbed back down to retrieve another load from the car. Four trips later, her belongings were finally all inside.
As she looked around, she saw that time and dust had taken over. She rolled up her sleeves and started to clean, sweeping away the dust that coated every surface. She opened the windows, letting in the cool night air, and pulled down the mosquito netting to protect herself from the bugs that buzzed around the night.
After tidying up, Aria set her laptop on a small table, arranging her things just how she liked them. Then she decided to re-park the car in a safer spot. She covered it with some branches and bushes, hoping it would keep any potential thieves from noticing it. Climbing back up into the treehouse, she felt a wave of relief wash over her as she prepared for bed.
The treehouse, next to a tranquil lake, was a one-room haven. Her dad had built it with care, including a small bathroom and kitchen that drew water from the lake and a power generator. She took a quick bath to wash off the fatigue, then dressed in comfortable clothes. Setting her bow and arrows in a safe spot, she lay down on the bed and covered herself with a blanket.
But sleep eluded her. She tossed and turned, the thoughts about Cody gnawing at her mind. She knew she needed rest if she was going to figure out what happened to him. Finally, she forced her eyes shut and drifted off.
In her dream, Cody appeared in a desolate landscape, a hot desert stretching endlessly around them. "Cody, come here!" she called out, desperation lacing her voice.
"I can't," he replied, his voice distant.
"Why?" she asked, panic rising in her chest.
"Because they're watching," he said, and as he spoke, he began to fade away.
"Cody, no!" she screamed, jolting awake, her heart racing. It was morning, sunlight streaming through the windows.
Aria sat up, shaking off the remnants of the nightmare. She quickly got out of bed, remembering her mother's worried words about taking care of herself since Cody died.
After a quick bath and a hurried breakfast, she brushed her hair and sat in front of her laptop. Pulling up the pictures she had taken of Cody at the police station, she felt tears prick at her eyes. Each image was a painful reminder of her brother, gone too soon. She began searching online for symbols, hoping to find some clue that would lead her to the truth.
But each search returned irrelevant results—movie theories, architectural symbols, or other missing children. The frustration mounted, and she felt the familiar surge of anger and helplessness. She almost threw her laptop but stopped herself just in time. Instead, she grabbed the pictures of Cody and slammed them onto the floor, her emotions boiling over.
"Give me what I want!" she screamed at the screen. "Give me freaking answers!"
After a moment of wild anger, she slumped down, breathing heavily, a tangled mess of grief and fury. Then, as if a light bulb had flickered to life in her mind, she realized she needed help. She wiped the tears off her face and thought, I need someone who knows how to investigate.
Aria let out a hollow, hysterical laugh, shaking her head. "I'm such an idiot," she muttered. She sat up straight, opened her laptop again, and began searching for private investigators.
A list of names and numbers appeared on the screen. But as she scrolled through them, she quickly realized that most were charging exorbitant fees. She kept swiping, her hope dwindling as she searched for someone affordable. Just as she was about to give up, she saw a name at the bottom: Arman Spyro. An investigator with no price tag.
"What?" she whispered, intrigued. She clicked on his profile and found a recent college graduate from her university. There were no star ratings or reviews. It seemed that hiring him would be his first job, and he was offering to do it for free.
With renewed determination, she quickly tapped his number on her phone and placed the call. After a few rings, a thick voice answered, "Hello, this is Spyro."
"I need you to investigate the death of my brother," she said urgently. "I need to know who did it and why."
"Yes, ma'am. Do you have any information about the death?" he asked, and she could hear the sound of him searching for something. She heard the click of a pen.
Aria explained everything—how Cody had disappeared, the lack of any evidence or traces, and how he had been found days later, covered in symbols and horrifically burned. When she mentioned the symbols, he asked if she had pictures.
"Yes!" she replied, her heart racing.
"Please send every piece of evidence you have to my email," he urged.
Sitting at her desk, she quickly gathered her files and sent him everything: the photos from the park, the pictures of her and Cody, and the images of his corpse.
"I will need a few days, maybe a week," he said. "I will surely get back to you."
"Thank you," she replied, feeling a mixture of hope and fear as the line went dead.
Slumping back on the bed, she wiped her eyes. She hadn't even realized she was crying while explaining everything to him. After a moment, she stared at her laptop, sighing. Standing up, she closed it and grabbed her camera, heading out to the balcony of the treehouse to take pictures of the serene lake below, hoping it would help take her mind off the heartache.