The train departed Lonestone City with a jolt. Five hours. That was how long it would take to reach Songstress Village.
Jack settled into his seat by the window Reina beside him. Across the aisle, Mr. Keener sat with Alenna. A somber quiet hanging between them.
Nick and Harold, however, were already animated. Flipping through textbooks. Eager for their 'real-world case study'.
"So..." Nick began. Leaning forward. An open occult-looking tome on his lap. "Twilight Death. Fascinating. The reports mention no physical trauma. No disease. Just... sudden death at sunset. Or shortly after."
Harold nodded. Adjusting his glasses. "The lack of external signs points strongly to a spiritual or arcane cause. A curse, perhaps? Or a localized energy drain."
Alenna chimed in. "Perhaps, it's tied to the old legends. The village was founded by a renowned songstress, centuries ago. Her voice was said to calm storms, heal the sick. But there are darker tales, too. Of a pact with something ancient for her gift."
Jack listened. Then asked his questions. "When did the case start? What does the official word say about the deaths?"
Mr. Keener spoke. His voice was heavy. "The sudden deaths started about two weeks ago. Local authorities are baffled. The doctors found nothing. No poison, no heart failure, no stroke. Just... gone."
"My sister, Ivy, and her husband Theo, were the most recent. They were found just outside their home. Yesterday morning." His gaze drifted out the window. Lost in thought. "They probably died the day before. At twilight. No villager dared to go out in the evening."
Reina pulled out her small, leather-bound notebook. "The lack of a physical cause of death suggests a non-corporeal assailant. Or a highly precise, localized magical effect. I've checked my informants. No similar case happened in nearby villages."
"Precisely!" Nick exclaimed. "A localized curse, perhaps? Or a location-bound supernatural entity? A vengeful ghost?"
Harold frowned and pushed his spectacles. "Why now? Why only at sunset? And why indiscriminately? The victims are everyone outdoor during the sunset, aren't they? Why does being indoor protect the others? Why can't whatever caused the problem reach indoor?"
"Good questions." Jack stated. He glanced at Rune, who floated silently beside his head, glowing a soft, thoughtful green. "We might need to check outdoor during the twilight to know the truth. But it will be very risky."
"It is." Reina replied. "Death is the consequence of failure after all."
The others looked at each other. Indeed. It was too dangerous.
"That's why we'll use your mechanical eagle. And my fairy." Jack said. "They are technically not alive after all."
Rune glowed red in response. Shaking her head in anger.
"Oh, alright, Rune." Jack sighed. "You are alive, I know. But you can't actually die, right. I can recall and fix you anytime. Alright?"
Rune crossed her arms and glowed blue. Flying and perching on Reina's shoulder instead.
Reina smiled at that, and asked. "Can you tell us about the village's legend, Mr. Keener? It might help to know the history."
Mr. Keener cleared his throat. "The village, Songstress Village, wasn't always called that. It was originally called 'Breeze Hamlet'. But then, centuries ago, a traveling songstress, Nerea, settled there."
"Nerea?" Harold asked. "St. Nerea Elessea?"
"The Divine Archer? No. A different person." Mr. Keener shook his head. "She didn't shoot any arrow. Instead, she composed songs and sang. She had a voice like no other. People would travel from everywhere to hear her. Even the king. And transcendent people. The village prospered under her existence."
His eyes were distant. Remembering stories passed down through generations. "But then, one night, she simply vanished. Left no trace. No body. Nothing. The villagers mourned, and in her honor, they renamed the settlement."
"That was the mild version of the legend." Alenna commented. "There was a version that said she tamed beasts and healed people with her songs. Or the dark ones, that she made a contract with the devil and enchanted the king with her voice."
"It might have nothing to do with the case." Jack said calmly. "But we have no clear clues of what had happened. We need more information."
Reina closed her notebook. "We need to observe the victims' final moments more closely if possible. And to be safe, we need to be indoor at sunset. But capable of observing outdoor carefully."
The discussion continued. Theories flew around. Counter-theories proposed.
Jack mostly listened. Letting the students hash out the academic possibilities. While his own mind worked on the practical angles. He considered his forms... Jack Mystery.
This incarnation would be perfect to find information during twilight. It couldn't die after all. Since, well... technically, it was already dead.
...
Five hours passed. The train slowed down, and finally came to a halt. "Songstress Village," the conductor called out.
The group disembarked onto a small, dusty platform. The air was obviously heavier here. A strange stillness that had nothing to do with the lack of wind.
It wasn't overtly hostile, but it was... dense. Like the air itself held its breath. The sun was still high. But the unique atmosphere permeated everything.
Just after a few minutes of walking, they saw small crowd was gathered near a simple cemetery. Black clothing was prevalent. The funeral.
Mr. Keener's shoulders slumped further. "That's it. Theo and Ivy."
The group moved towards the cemetery. As they approached, the mournful strains of a dirge drifted out. Slow and sorrowful. The air was thick with grief and the scent of lilies.
Jack let his [Eyes of Judgement] activate. The world shifted. Colors fading. Replaced by the flood of information.
He scanned the faces. The figures standing around the new graves. Most showed neutral karma. No grand villains. No benevolent saints. Just ordinary people. Suffering.
He saw no sign of guilt. No glimmering aura of transcendent beings. Everyone present was mundane. Well, everyone apart from himself, Reina, Nick, Harold, and Alenna.
The latter three showed faint, weaker energy. They were still Mystic Scholar Apprentices after all. Far weaker than Jack and Reina's vibrant, complex auras.
Jack scanned once more. No hidden threats. No other transcendent individuals trying to capitalize on the situation. Just normal grief.
The service itself was brief. Somber. A local priest of Justice, Father Minnow, read from a holy text. His voice trembling slightly. He spoke of eternal rest. Of peace.
Jack found it hollow though. Eternal peace didn't explain sudden, inexplicably fatal incidents.
After the eulogy, the caskets were buried. Theo and Ivy Stave. Husband and wife. Taken by something unseen. Jack watched Mr. Keener. His face was a mask of sorrow. As he joined the funeral rite in that small village cemetery.
Once the burial was complete, the mourners dispersed. Leaving a few close family members and friends to linger. Mr. Keener went directly to two small figures crying next to the graves. He directly hugged them. Locke and Rose. The orphaned children.
"We should give Mr. Keener some space." Reina murmured. Her voice was soft. "He'll be with his niece and nephew, discussing their future. We can begin our investigation."
She looked at Alenna. "Do you want to be with your father?"
"I'm no good dealing with children." Alenna shook her head. Her face hardened. "I'd rather find out what actually killed my aunt."
Jack nodded. "Alright. Let's find Owen Flute, the village chief. We need him to show us where the bodies were found. All of them, if possible."
Nick, Harold, and Alenna exchanged excited glances. This was it. The practical application of their studies.
They found Owen Flute near the cemetery. A stout man with weary eyes and a perpetually worried frown etched on his face.
Jack introduced himself and Reina. Mentioning their connection to Mr. Keener and their intent to investigate the 'Twilight Deaths'. He also presented their Mercenary Union IDs. A formality that often smoothed over initial suspicions.
Owen Flute squinted at the cards. Then sighed. "More outsiders. We've had a few. Doctors, scholars... priests. Nobody's helped yet. But if Wedge sent you..."
He looked at Jack with a sliver of hope. "Fine. I'll guide you. What do you need?"
"The locations where the victims were found." Jack said. "Starting with Theo and Ivy Stave."
The chief led them through the narrow, winding lanes of Songstress Village. The houses were mostly old stone and timber. Clinging together as if for comfort.
The village was quiet. Too quiet. Children weren't playing in the streets. Doors were shut. Fear hung in the air. A colder dread than the grief at the funeral.
"They were found here. Not too far from their home there." Owen Flute said.
He stopped beside a gnarled oak tree that marked a bend in the lane. It was perhaps thirty meters from Theo and Ivy's cottage. The one he pointed at. The house which was now silent and still.
"They just crumpled there. Side by side. Like they'd been walking home, then just... stopped. And died."
Jack surveyed the spot. Nothing remarkable. Just a patch of dirt and sparse grass under the oak. He felt the residual heavy atmosphere. But it wasn't concentrated here. It was diffuse. Spread over the entire village.
"Reina!" Jack said, his voice low. "Echo!"
Reina stepped forward. Her dark hair falling over her shoulders. She took her grimoire from her bag and opened it. Its pages were rustling softly in the still air. Stopping at a particular page. The [Past Echo] spell.
Her eyes closed for a moment. Then snapped open. Glowing with a faint violet light. Her hand rose, tracing intricate patterns in the air. "Past Echo!" She intoned, her voice was clear and precise.
A shimmering haze coalesced in the air above the spot. It wasn't solid. But a ghostly, translucent image. Like looking through a distortion in reality. Blurry at the edges, it slowly gained focus.
They saw two figures. Indistinct but clearly human-shaped. They walked briskly along the lane. Theo and Ivy. Their forms were faint. Like smoke. But their movements were clear. They were heading towards their house. Their pace was hurried as if they wanted to get indoors as quickly as possible.
Then, they stopped. Abruptly. Their heads cocked. As if listening intently. Their phantom hands, blurry as they were, seemed to rise slightly. As if to ward off an invisible threat. Or perhaps to cup their ears.
A flicker of something that could have been fear, or confusion, crossed their spectral faces.
And then, just as suddenly, they crumpled. Silently. Their hazy forms dropped to the ground. Lying still. The illusion faded. Leaving only the empty lane and the gnarled oak.
A collective gasp escaped Nick and Harold. Alenna's hand flew to her mouth.
"They heard something." Nick whispered. "They definitely heard something."
"And then they died." Jack finished. His voice was devoid of emotion.
He felt the cold wash of the supernatural. The mystery of the phenomenon. He didn't see anything that caused the death. They hadn't struggled. They hadn't fallen with a cry. They just collapsed.
"Show us the other spots, Chief Flute." Jack commanded seriously. "All of them."
Chief Owen Flute was visibly shaken by the spectral vision. He nodded mutely and led them to the other locations.