Freya stared blankly at the words written in blood. The room tilted.

{TRAITOR}

The words were not an illusion. They were messily written but legible.

Maybe some super-intelligent demons wrote that. Those orcs in Kai Nai could speak. I bet they could learn to write. But why write that? It makes more sense that the people of the Port District wrote this... but how could any person do this?

“Freya,” a voice said close to her ear.

She jumped as she realized Infamous Biscuit had a hand on her shoulder. He looked at her in concern, “Are you okay? Let’s get out of here.”

“I’m okay,” she said shakily. After a long exhale, she continued, “It’s okay, let me look around the room a little.”

All the blood had distracted her before, but this was clearly a bedroom. The corpse was lying close to a bed with messy sheets. There was also a wardrobe and a small desk. Freya started to look through the desk contents.

In the background, she heard the startled gasps of K13 and Heilong as they entered the room.

“Shit, that’s what everyone stepped in,” Heilong said, looking at all the blood. “But hold on, I thought there was another source-”

The marksman left the room in a rush. Meanwhile, Freya found a letter in the desk’s drawers. It was addressed to a Shaman Ghira. She scanned the letter, it was a mundane message about a shipment of supplies, but she could glean a few things from it.

“This must be Shaman Ghira’s body. From the contents of this letter, it sounds like he was the head shaman here.”

“If everyone was angry because of the demons showing up, maybe they targeted him for letting people die,” Infamous Biscuit suggested.

“Maybe.”

Freya still didn’t want to believe human people were responsible for this, but she couldn’t deny the facts. She continued to look through the desk. Shoved in the very back of the drawer was another letter. This one was extremely crumpled and difficult to read. However, as Freya skimmed the letter, her interest grew.

{Dear Shaman Ghira,

I hope you are doing well and find the enclosed supplies helpful. We are also running short on funds here, but we’ve seen little demonic activity lately. Unfortunately, we’ve had lots of cases of flu here, so I am unable to send my apprentice to assist you.

Given everything you said in your last letter, I think you should write the King personally. If Mayor Yusuf isn’t listening to you, speaking to the King or at least corresponding with one of his ministers would be the best.

Also, forgive me for asking, but does this have anything to do with the mayor’s daughter? I’ve heard strange rumors that she has a strong unbreakable curse. Is this the reason for the Mayor’s lack of support? Again, forgive me for listening to these rumors and asking such rude things. Still, if you would like any assistance, I heard Shaman Batir of the Upper District is quite capable with dispelling curses.

Best,

Shaman Shavkat, East District}

Freya re-read the part about the mayor’s daughter. Were the rumors the shaman mentioned about Aziza? Also, the implied lack of funds for the shaman was concerning. However, even if they were running short on money, it didn’t excuse abandoning their duties.

As she mulled over the letter further, loud, quick footsteps interrupted her thoughts. Heilong appeared at the door, “There’s another body upstairs, probably another shaman. Looks like they were killed in their bedroom again, and it’s bad. But the last bedroom looks deserted.”

Steeling herself, Freya followed Heilong up a wooden staircase. The second body was similar to the first. Nothing was written by the body this time, but the brutality was the same. Cuts and maggots filled the body, and blood covered the rest of the room. This bedroom didn’t have a desk, so there wasn’t much to examine.

The last bedroom, most likely belonging to the third shaman, was a mess but not bloody. The mattress of the bed was overturned, and the doors of the wardrobe were open. Clothes littered the floor, but there was no body.

“It looks like the mob was looking for them, but they must have run before they got here,” Heilong surmised. She peeked into the wardrobe and began digging through it herself.

Freya sighed in relief that there wasn’t another victim. She still felt shaky from seeing the others. Leaning against a wall, she tried to settle her nerves. Heilong, on the other hand, appeared as energized as ever. After rummaging through the wardrobe, she moved on to the small bookshelf near the bed. She leafed through a couple of books, then stopped and read one with interest. To Freya, she flipped through the book too fast to actually read it. But maybe she had some strange skill that helped her read faster.

“Hey, Freya. You should take a look at this. It’s a diary from a Shaman Nafis. Wait,” Heilong said, still scanning the pages of the book. She flipped through a few pages, then halted. Her expression changed to shock, “This entry…”

She handed Freya the open diary and pointed to a section.

{We haven’t made any progress on removing the curse on Mayor Yusuf Tahir’s daughter. We’ve tried everything, but the curse is still there. She often denies it, but her eyes still look above our heads at things that aren’t there. Ghira is pushing to use more drastic methods. Mayor Yusuf isn’t allowing it, of course. I understand why. Still, if the curse gets worse, perhaps she will suffer worse than what we will do. Ghira thinks the curse will overtake her soon. I’m worried.}

Then, the very next entry:

{I don’t know if Ghira did the right thing. I really don’t know. I think he might have murdered that poor girl.}