Extreme magical cases weren't meant for humans. Luca Sterling had made a habit of ignoring that fact. Who cared?
The elf's body lay still in the grass, dark silvery blood pooling, reflecting coldly as if it remembered being alive. Whatever had happened here was far from accidental.
Nothing in Luca's profession was ever an accident; instead, they were all disguised to appear as accidents, and Luca identified each one every time.
Luca scribbled notes in his battered notebook, pen scraping weakly against the jagged pages. Next to him, an attending mage combed his rouge beard, sipping coffee. He was there to detect any form of magic used on the crime scene.
"Look what we have here." Luca smiled as he approached the mage, notebook in hand. The breeze blew past them in gentle gusts.
"Murder," the attendant muttered dismissively toward Luca. "The Elves haven't been receiving pay for forced overtime."
Luca's brows furrowed. He studied the mage for a beat longer than polite. If this were true, it wasn't supposed to be public. If it weren't, then someone had wanted it repeated.
Either way, the mage said it too easily—like a rumour he'd rehearsed enough times to pass as a fact.
"Where'd you hear that, if you don't mind me asking?" Luca asked, flashing a sweet smile.
"Something from the news," the mage shrugged, crouching by the body. His nose scrunched up at the pungent stench of elven blood.
Luca shook off his thoughts and crouched down next to him, examining what lay before him. The blood was still hot, warm enough to tense Luca's fingers and stain his gloves. Hours ago, they said. Luca didn't buy it. That couldn't have been the case.
At first, Luca thought the pooling pattern meant the body had been moved. He almost wrote it down. Almost. A second look stopped him. The grass beneath the blood was crushed, not dragged. He scratched out the note before the ink dried. Sloppy conclusions killed cases faster than murderers did. Flipping to another page, he noted, "Blood still hot, grass unusually crushed," as his pen ran dry with every stroke. He frowned at the unusualness.
Then, the mage wandered off, flirting with a reporter. Luca's eyes caught a half-burnt file buried beneath the dirt and gravel. Bingo.
His eyes scanned the perimeter until they settled onto Margot. She was sorting out her samples and evidence inside her tent.
"Margot, it's evidence," Luca shouted, beckoning her over.
She hurried over, smiling at the sight of him. "Hey, Sterling."
Luca returned her smile politely and showed her his discovery. The file appeared to be written in an ancient dialect, with only the bottom half remaining. Something kept tugging at him, but he couldn't make it out.
Margot sealed the file with magic after labelling it. "Good work, Sterling," she grinned. "Might be something useful."
Luca rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks flushed. "It happened to catch my eye, you know… thank you." He whispered the last bit. He straightened his coat, carefully sliding his notebook into the side pouch.
Margot rolled her eyes. "When will you retire that old notebook?"
Suddenly very aware of the notebook lying in his coat, he breathed, "When the right time comes, Margot."
She didn't seem to be convinced in the slightest. "Yeah, sure, now don't hold me back—I'll forget to take pictures again!" She spun on her heels before Luca could answer.
"Wait—" he failed to get it out.
Margot paused ahead, turning to tease him with a playful wink.
Luca smiled. Margot was an amazing colleague. His eyes caught something in the grass. A sealed bag of sushi—rotten and foul. It had fallen out of the victim's jacket pocket. Elves were vegan. This didn't add up. Luca pinched his nose, sighing.
The clearing was thick with fog and smoke, salty and sharp. Beneath it, a briny scent lingered. The air felt heavy and wrong and far too fresh—it wasn't the sushi. It was too raw and too fish-like.
Luca breathed through his mouth, then regretted it. The scent clung anyway—sharp, saline, and familiar in the worst way. His stomach twisted with recognition he couldn't place, like remembering something he'd never learned.
He glanced back down at the victim's body, his nose scrunching.
The victim's neck was slit in a precise manner. The slit was deep into the area occupied by the vocal cords. A stab wound marred the calf, an unclean one.
The victim wore a turtleneck that had been stained by the blood spilling from their throat. Luca nearly dismissed it, if not for the soaking blood revealing a silhouette beneath the turtleneck. As his hands hovered over the area, he felt a faint pulse that sent jolts up his arm. The sensation wasn't pain—it was alignment, as if something inside him had been briefly corrected and then rejected. Luca pulled his hand back, heart racing, annoyed at himself for noticing the absence it left behind.
Blinking several times, Luca lifted the turtleneck and caught a glimpse of silver chains. Necklace chains. He lifted it further, and a shiny, blinding gem lay there, stabbing into his eyes. Luca winced, taking it in his hands. Only then did the light dim. The necklace was an elven artifact—no ordinary elf should have it.
Then, he heard tiny footsteps, gradually growing louder. Suddenly, a voice snapped behind him, "What's that, human boy?"
Startled, Luca turned to Mayers, wings fluttering behind her. "Mayers—please don't startle me like that…" Luca said with his hand over his heart. His blood pressure was already high enough.
She shrugged her shoulders. "Call me by my first name, Sterling. I promise it's okay—so is that evidence." Her eyes gleamed at the sight of it.
Luca showed her the artifact vibrating in his hands. "Yes, I'll see it over with Director Vyserion." He smiled.
Mayers narrowed her eyes. "Hm. Don't get in trouble," she teased. She handed him a plastic bag and a bold marker, since he couldn't use magic.
"Do you smell anything weird?" Luca asked, raking a hand through his hair.
"Mm, if the metallic scent of blood falls under 'anything weird,' then yes!" She rubbed her chin thoughtfully.
Luca swallowed. It must have been the fog playing tricks on him—or was it something else?
"Ah, yes, don't mind the question. Have a great day, Mayers!" Luca said quickly, taking the sealed artifact with him.
***
Luca stared at the artifact for longer than he should have. It was inert. Cold. Ugly in the way of things that were never meant to be touched. The type of object that glowed blindingly for one second, then dimmed and stopped all actions.
"This doesn't make sense," Luca said, brows furrowed.
The forensics tech shot him a look. "Define 'sense," he stared at Luca expectantly, hands in pockets.
Luca thought for a moment, humming. "The blood pattern's wrong. The force required doesn't match the damage. And if this thing was used—" Luca swallowed, forcing himself to finish the thought. "—then whoever did this wasn't human. Or they were, and they shouldn't still be breathing."
Silence followed. Not the awkward kind. The kind that pressed.
"You think a human did this?" The forensic technician asked, his mouth sour with the word.
Luca didn't answer. He straightened, suddenly aware of the weight in his chest. He'd worked brutal cases before. He'd seen magic-adjacent crimes, but this was different. This wasn't sloppy or impulsive. This was undoubtedly a layered crime.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it. His instincts screamed at him to back away, to call someone higher up, someone better equipped—Someone familiar with these kinds of things.
The temperature in the room shifted. Not cold. Not hot. Just wrong.
Luca turned, eyes widening.
Zayn K. Vyserion stood at the edge of the crime scene as if the caution tape had never applied to him in the first place. His hands were clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable. His silver eyes fixed on the artifact as if it had personally offended him.
No one stopped him. No one could.
Luca hated the fact that part of him relaxed at the sight of him. Authority should have made him bristle—not feel relieved.
Zayn stepped forward once. The air bent around him, subtle and unmistakable. He didn't ask it to—he didn't need to.
"This is not a local incident," Zayn said calmly, his tone final. "And it is no longer under your jurisdiction."
Someone nearby seemed to flinch, stepping away from Zayn's presence in silence. Others were already preparing the files.
Luca sighed, frowning but trying to remain polite. "With all due respect—"
Zayn gave him no time to respond, narrowing his sharp silver eyes. Luca gulped.
"You are out of your depth," Zayn interrupted, not raising his voice. "And if you continue pretending otherwise, danger will strike."
Luca exhaled slowly, the fight draining out of him as understanding settled in like lead. Zayn promised him that this would be his case. "Do you trust a man's word?" Zayn usually told him in these situations.
Luca frowned, crossing his arms. "Will you at least still let me work on my case, director?" Luca pleaded, looking hopeful. Too hopeful.
Zayn didn't answer—not right away. He let the silence simmer, his silver eyes like daggers. He seemed to be contemplating whether to leave without answering or to give the human what he wanted.
Luca widened his eyes, staring directly into Zayn's eyes. Zayn looked away too quickly.
"Meet me back at TSL HQ," he said.
Luca beamed, the relief hitting him all at once—too fast, too hard. Before he could stop himself, he stepped forward, hands lifting as if pulled by instinct rather than thought.
Zayn went still. Not stiff—alert. His silver eyes flicked down, catching the movement immediately.
Luca froze. His hands hovered for a fraction of a second too long before he dropped them, heat rushing to his face. He cleared his throat, stepping back as if he had never moved at all.
He hated that Zayn had noticed, and he despised the fact that part of him wanted to be noticed.
"Right," Luca said quickly. "TSL HQ. I'll—yeah. I need to go."
Zayn watched him for a beat longer than necessary. Something unreadable crossed his expression before it vanished just as quickly.
"See that you do," Zayn said calmly.
Luca nodded, already turning away. He didn't look back. He couldn't.