The village district of Havenlock City was bustling with early-morning foot traffic. Professionals were traversing the streets like ants, holding steaming paper cups of coffee – delicious goodness and often revered liquid gold; students were walking in herds, laughing at jokes or dragging the balls of their feet on the floor and cursing parents for forcing them to go; and, seniors were deep in discussions with their friends over tea and a devilish slice of cake. They picked the soft sponge apart, jab by jab with the prongs of their dessert forks. The village itself was tidy and held significance to the region, the history captured largely within the historic buildings that lined the streets and in historians that took great care of their community. Due to the narrow distance between them, the streets were closed to vehicular traffic which added to the village feel that this district was renowned for.

Ellen and Rolland had arrived not five minutes ago, and were already seated at one of the many cafes. This one seemed to be popular with the locals as most of the tables were filled, and there was friendliness in the air. It had a coffeehouse feel to it, warm hues on the walls which were decorated with prints of a fictional newspaper, comfortable wrap-around chairs and benches, and the smell of roasting caffeine in the air. Despite the friendly atmosphere inside, the pair opted to sit outside where there were less people and the breeze could gently buffet around them.

He was giving her a quiet briefing of the situation at hand, using a hushed voice so those around them couldn't overhear them: a Tempusmancer had attempted to vanish in haste and had managed to splice off an arm and a leg. Before he had the time to correct himself, an elderly concerned citizen stumbled upon the floating body parts and quickly alerted authorities. She, herself, was in disbelief however, she convinced them anyway to have a look and at least listen to what she had to say. The culprit is already long gone but damage control still had to be done.

"And that's where I step in," Rolland told Ellen, pointing both of his pointer fingers to himself and giving a smile. "I'm the plain-clothes officer that will convince her that it was just a figment of her imagination. And she will believe me because that's the way I will direct things, if you know what I mean." He gave her a wink as if it was an inside joke.

A very lame inside joke at that.

The young, brown haired and blue eyed waitress that took their orders now arrived at the table, placing two plain white, steaming porcelain mugs in front of them. She immediately turned so she was facing Rolland, her back to Ellen. She was obviously interested in him. She tried hard, so hard that it oozed from her.

The hair playing.

The straightening of her shirt.

The battering of eyelids.

"Would you like anything else today?" she asked, flicking her hair behind her. Her voice was sickly sweet, forced and unnatural. It made Ellen sick, and it looked like it had that effect on Rolland too.

"No, thank-you," he replied emotionlessly, ignoring the waitress and refusing to look at her. Ellen didn't blame him. She let out a small chuckle but it wasn't silent enough. The waitress threw a scowl in her direction and trudged back into the shop, behind the counter where one of her colleagues was waiting. As if on cue, both of them turned to look at Rolland, completely disregarding that he was in the company of Ellen. The look on their faces – want, need, lust – was enough.

"How far away was the accident?" she asked, diverting her attention form the the waitresses and taking a sip from the tea she ordered. It was sweet, fruity, and fragrant. Just the way she liked it. The hot liquid warmed her insides; warmed her soul. It also calmed her nerves. She wasn't sure what to expect from today.

"Two blocks away. I just need you to promise me one thing..." His eyes flickered to hers and then down to the mug that was in his hands. It seemed like his promise would be something major; something drastic.

"Yes?" she asked, curiously. She held her breath, readying for what was to come.

"Whatever you do, do not use your abilities. This is pretty serious business and we can't afford to escalate things by making a mistake here."

Ellen nodded, understanding the situation. Her worry dissipated as quickly as it had come. Hans had described this many a times to her, telling her to restrict using her abilities unless she was with him or he had given her the all clear after enough training. She respected this, she knew she had a long way to go just yet. She wasn't about to break this promise whilst she was with Rolland and after seeing the opening of the trial of Dvorak, she knew straying from Hans' rules and playing up wasn't worth it.

The memories of the shrieking man were still fresh in her mind.

The pair sat in silence for a while longer as they finished off their drinks, Rolland wiping his lips as the last of the coffee filtered from the cup and down his throat. Together, they stood from the table and slowly made their way through the stoned streets of the village centre, the breeze now chilling their cheeks. Every so often, Rolland would point out a heritage building and describe the history behind it, Ellen hanging onto each and every word. He had a remarkable and alluring story-telling ability, drawing from both memory and learned knowledge.

They stopped before a cobble-stoned walkway intersection, Rolland now turning to Ellen. "It happened in the park just across the intersection there."

Ellen glanced across where there was a small park. It had an abundance of greenery, and created a serene and tranquil place. Large, ancient trees were dotted along a winding pathway and trimmed, landscaped lawns sprawled across as far as it could reach. Birds chirped in the trees, a somewhat postcard perfect setting. There were a few families enjoying the outdoors as well as individuals doing their usual yoga routines. But one of them stood out like sore thumb.

An elderly lady stood alone in the shade of a tree, her arms around her torso as if she was holding herself. A light, beige coloured headscarf was draped over her hair, and a matching shawl was draper around her shoulders. She was clutching a weaved handbag close to herself, clutching so tight that the blood in her hands had stopped circulating and they were a pale, ill-looking white. Every so often, she took a quick glance at her surroundings before returning her stare to the floor.

"I'll need you to do something so she doesn't put us together," Rolland told Ellen, emphasising the end of the sentence. "Take a stroll around the park of a nap on the bench; it's up to you but don't make it seem obvious that you know."

Ellen nodded and entered the park first. She found an empty bench, outstretched her arms and portrayed herself as someone who came here for a mid-morning nap. Now that she was in position, she watched as Rolland strolled through the park and approached the elderly woman. They shook hands, and launched into an animated discussion. Judging by the hand movements, Ellen assumed that she was now recounting what she saw. Rolland pulled out a notepad and jotted notes as she spoke, his pen skipping from one edge of the page to the other. The woman now had a grin on her face, brimming from ear to ear. He pocketed the notepad and shook hands, watching her as she left the park.

And then there was a sudden barrage of screaming.

Women, children, and men ran out of the park, their hands at their mouths, fleeing as fast as they could. Children were picked up and had their eyes covered by the hands of their guardians.

It was a state of disarray, disarray that Ellen had once seen before. She was suddenly pulled out of the semi-conscious trance state she was in by the commotion that surrounded her. What was once a peaceful park turned into a field of terror.

She shot up to her feet, and scanned the park hastily. What caused this? What happened?

Her eyes took in everything around her, and then she did a double take.

A man was lying on the pathway – less than hundred metres from Ellen - with his eyes closed and a hand grabbing at his chest. A crimson pool was forming around his torso, the liquid also staining the singlet and cargo shorts he was wearing. The blood pool was getting bigger, and it was getting bigger fast. The few onlookers that could tolerate the sight of it were now flocking to him. A middle-aged man tore off the shirt he was wearing and pushed down, acting like a clot to the wound. Another grabbed the man's wrist and searched tirelessly for a pulse. His face was growing grimmer by the minute.

"Someone call an ambulance!" he yelled to the bystanders.

Ellen felt a hand twist around her upper-arm and tug her away from the scene. The grip cut into her skin, it hurt.

"What did you do?" she heard Rolland snarl into her ear.

"Nothing, honest!" she replied. She took a look at Rolland, his lips in a tight line and his face red and livid.

"Ellen, things like that don't just happen." He pulled her so that she was now facing him. "Find an empty place, vanish, and go back to the manor. I will follow shortly once I get to the bottom of this. Don't think that you're getting away from this. It really is something to take a human life."

Ellen opened her mouth to argue but it was to no avail. She felt tears brim in her eyes, her heart pounding loudly yet missing beats.

"That's an order!" he barked. He then gave Ellen a final glare and retraced his steps back to the scene.

She surged through the park and exited, traversing the many walkways until she finally found an empty, barren street. She fell to her knees, not sure of what to think.

Did she really do it?

Was it all her doing?

"I can't return. I can't let Hans down anymore."

She pondered on her next move, where she should go. Fumbling to her feet, she imagined the location and painted it in her mind the best she could. She glanced around her to make sure no one was watching, closed her eyes, and took a sprinting step.

The next thing she felt was her body become weightless.

And then it hit the solid ground beneath her.