The air inside Liora's apartment was tense, almost suffocating. The unconscious woman, Margaret, lay sprawled on the couch, her face pale and drawn, as though her very essence had been drained. Liora moved cautiously, her gun still within arm's reach as she paced the room, replaying Margaret's cryptic words over and over in her mind.
"The Architect isn't watching. It's waiting."
The words felt heavy, almost alive, echoing with a sense of foreboding. But waiting for what? And why would Lucius send this woman to her—if she was even telling the truth?
Liora grabbed a bottle of water from her kitchen and crouched beside Margaret, gently shaking her awake.
"Margaret," she said firmly, her voice cutting through the oppressive silence. "You need to wake up. Tell me what you know."
Margaret's eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, but then sharpened as she looked at Liora. Panic flashed across her face, and she scrambled to sit up.
"You have to listen to me," Margaret said, her voice hoarse. "We don't have much time."
The Warning
Liora set the bottle of water on the coffee table and leaned forward. "Start talking. Who is The Architect, and why did Lucius send you to me?"
Margaret's hands trembled as she clasped them together. "I don't know who The Architect is," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I know what it can do. Lucius... he told me it's older than anything we can imagine. It's not human, not even close. He said it's been manipulating events for centuries, pulling strings from the shadows. Every tragedy, every war, every act of destruction—it's all part of its design."
Liora frowned, her skepticism surfacing. "And you expect me to believe that?"
Margaret's gaze hardened, her fear momentarily replaced by defiance. "Believe what you want, but I've seen its influence. I've felt it. And so has Lucius. That's why he's doing all this—why he's killing. He's trying to stop it."
Liora froze. The idea that Lucius, the man who had orchestrated so much chaos and death, might have a purpose beyond pure malice was almost incomprehensible.
"Stop it how?" she asked, her voice colder now.
Margaret shook her head. "I don't know. He wouldn't tell me. He said the less I knew, the safer I'd be. But he made it clear: if you don't act soon, it'll be too late."
Doubt and Resolve
As Margaret's words hung in the air, Liora felt a surge of anger. She rose to her feet, pacing the room as she tried to process what she'd just heard.
"This doesn't make any sense," she muttered. "If Lucius is trying to stop this so-called Architect, why kill innocent people? Why play these twisted games?"
Margaret hesitated before speaking, her voice soft but steady. "Lucius believes that sin and fate are the keys. That by manipulating them, he can unravel The Architect's plan. The people he's killed... they were chosen for a reason. He called them 'anchors.'"
"Anchors?" Liora repeated, her brow furrowing.
"They're people whose lives are pivotal to The Architect's design," Margaret explained. "By removing them, Lucius thinks he can disrupt the patterns it's trying to create. But... I don't know if he's right. Or if he's just as much a pawn as the rest of us."
The room fell silent, the weight of Margaret's revelation pressing down on Liora like a physical force.
A New Lead
Before Liora could respond, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She picked it up, seeing Captain Reynolds's name on the screen.
"Blackwell," she answered, her voice clipped.
"Liora, we've got a situation," Reynolds said, his tone grim. "Another body. This one's... different."
"How so?"
"You need to see it for yourself," Reynolds replied. "I'll text you the address."
Liora ended the call and grabbed her coat, turning to Margaret. "Stay here. Don't open the door for anyone."
Margaret nodded, but her expression was one of growing fear. "Be careful, Detective. The closer you get, the more dangerous this will become."
The Scene of the Crime
The address Reynolds had sent led Liora to an abandoned church on the outskirts of the city. Its towering spires reached into the stormy sky like skeletal fingers, and the heavy wooden doors creaked ominously as she pushed them open.
Inside, the air was damp and thick with the scent of decay. Candles lined the aisles, their flickering flames casting distorted shadows on the crumbling walls. At the center of the altar lay the body—a young woman, her arms outstretched as if in supplication.
Liora approached cautiously, her flashlight sweeping over the scene. The victim's chest was marked with the same intricate symbols she'd seen before, but this time, there was something new.
Carved into the stone floor around the body was a massive circle filled with runes. The symbols glowed faintly, pulsing with an otherworldly light that made the hair on the back of Liora's neck stand on end.
Reynolds appeared at her side, his face pale. "We found her like this an hour ago. No sign of forced entry. No witnesses. Just... this."
Liora knelt beside the body, her gloved hand tracing one of the glowing symbols. "This isn't Lucius," she said quietly.
"What makes you so sure?" Reynolds asked.
She pointed to the runes. "Lucius's killings are precise, calculated. This... this is something else entirely. It's ritualistic. And these symbols—they're not his style."
Reynolds frowned. "So who's responsible?"
Liora's gaze shifted to the glowing circle, unease coiling in her gut. "I think we're dealing with someone—or something—bigger than Lucius."
The Architect's Hand
As Liora examined the scene, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. The flickering candlelight seemed to dance in time with her heartbeat, casting shadows that moved in ways they shouldn't.
She stood and turned, her flashlight sweeping across the empty pews. For a brief moment, she thought she saw a figure—a tall, cloaked form standing at the back of the church.
"Who's there?" she called out, her voice echoing through the cavernous space.
No answer.
When she reached the spot where the figure had been, there was nothing but darkness. But on the floor, scratched into the wood, was a single word:
"Wait."