Morning came quietly to Bellgrave.
The village slowly filled with the sounds of people opening their shops, children walking toward school, and carts moving along the narrow roads.
Team One had already finished breakfast when they gathered outside the inn.
Cassian held the case file in one hand while the others stood around him.
They had spent most of the previous night arranging everything they had learned.
The church.
The coffin.
The witnesses.
The single bell ring.
The missing body.
And the strange three-month pattern.
Yet none of those details had brought them closer to an answer.
Cassian looked at his teammates.
"We have spent enough time understanding what the villagers believe. Today, I want us to understand the people involved."
Owen looked down at his notebook.
"You mean the families of the people whose bodies appeared?"
Cassian nodded.
"We need to know who those people were before their deaths."
Damon folded his arms.
"That could tell us whether their deaths were connected to the coffin."
"It may not give us the answer," Cassian said, "but it could give us a pattern."
Mira looked toward the western side of the village.
"Do we know where the families live?"
"I marked their addresses last night," Owen replied.
He opened his notebook and showed the others several names.
"We have four families we can visit today."
Lyra looked at the list.
"Then we should begin with the most recent victim."
Cassian nodded.
"That will give us the freshest memories."
The team started walking.
None of them knew that the answers they were searching for would raise even more questions.
"...."
Their first visit was to a small house near the western edge of Bellgrave.
An elderly woman opened the door after Cassian knocked.
She looked at the six students standing outside and immediately noticed their academy badges.
"Are you the students assigned to the coffin case?"
Cassian gave a polite nod.
"We are from the academy, and we are investigating Case No. 91."
The woman stepped aside.
"You may come inside, but I do not know how much I can tell you."
"That is completely fine," Cassian replied. "We only want to hear what you personally remember."
The woman led them into a small sitting room.
A framed photograph stood on a wooden table.
Cassian noticed it immediately.
A young man was smiling in the picture.
He looked around twenty-seven.
His hair was dark brown, and his eyes were brown with a faint blue shade around the iris.
Cassian looked at the photograph for only a moment before turning toward the woman.
"My name is Margaret Vale," she said. "The person in that photograph was my son, Adrian."
Cassian sat across from her.
"Was Adrian suffering from any illness before his death?"
Margaret shook her head.
"He was completely healthy. He worked every day and rarely complained about anything serious."
Mira glanced at the photograph.
"Was he usually a cheerful person?"
Margaret smiled sadly.
"He was always cheerful. Even when something went wrong, he usually found a way to make everyone laugh."
Cassian wrote something in his notebook.
"How did he die?"
Margaret's expression slowly changed.
"He came home that evening and had dinner with us. Nothing seemed wrong with him."
"What happened after dinner?" Cassian asked.
"He went upstairs to his room, and later I heard something fall heavily."
Margaret paused.
"When I reached his room, he was already on the floor."
Owen leaned forward.
"Was he conscious when you found him?"
"He opened his eyes for a moment, but he could not speak properly."
"Did you call a healer immediately?"
"Yes, but they could not save him."
Cassian looked at his notes.
"Did the healer find any previous illness?"
Margaret shook her head.
"They said his heart had suddenly stopped working. Nobody understood why it happened."
Damon exchanged a glance with Mira.
Cassian continued asking questions.
"Did Adrian complain about pain before that evening?"
"He never mentioned anything unusual."
"Did he have any enemies or serious problems with anyone?"
"No, Adrian was not involved in anything dangerous."
"Did anyone threaten him before his death?"
"Not that I ever knew."
Cassian closed his notebook.
"Thank you for answering our questions. I know these memories are difficult to discuss."
Margaret looked toward the photograph.
"If finding the truth helps you understand what happened to him, then ask whatever you need."
Cassian gave her a respectful nod.
"We will do our best."
As they left the house, Mira looked back at the photograph through the window.
She remained silent.
Cassian noticed her expression.
"You noticed something?"
Mira looked at him.
"I am not sure yet, so I would rather not say."
Cassian nodded.
"Then keep it in mind until we have something stronger."
"..."
The second family lived closer to the village center.
Their victim had been a twenty-nine-year-old man named Lucan Daven.
His sister, Clara, welcomed the team inside.
Unlike Margaret, Clara did not seem frightened by their questions.
She seemed tired.
As though she had answered them too many times before.
Cassian began with the same question.
"Was Lucan suffering from any disease before his death?"
Clara shook her head.
"He was healthy. He had never been seriously ill."
"What was he doing before he died?"
"He had been working during the day, and that evening he was with his friends."
"Did anyone notice anything unusual about him?"
"No. He was laughing and talking normally."
Cassian lowered his eyes to his notebook.
"How did he die?"
Clara took a slow breath.
"He suddenly collapsed."
"Did he complain about feeling sick?"
"He said he felt slightly warm, but he did not think it was serious."
"Did he lose consciousness afterward?"
"Yes. He fainted very suddenly."
"Did the healers find anything?"
"They believed he had suffered severe internal bleeding, but they could not explain why."
Damon frowned.
"Was he injured before that happened?"
"No."
"Was there any accident that could have caused it?"
Clara shook her head.
"Nothing happened to him."
Cassian looked at her carefully.
"Did Lucan have anyone who wanted to harm him?"
"No. He was not that kind of person."
"What happened to his body afterward?"
"We prepared him for the funeral and buried him."
"Did you personally see him before the burial?"
"Yes, I did."
Cassian nodded.
"Thank you. That is all we need for now."
As they stepped outside, Owen looked at his notes.
"The causes are different."
Cassian glanced at him.
"Tell me what you mean."
"Adrian apparently died from sudden heart failure. Lucan had internal bleeding."
Mira added,
"But neither of them had any known illness before their deaths."
Damon looked toward Cassian.
"Both were healthy until something happened without warning."
Cassian nodded.
"That is worth keeping."
"..."
By the time they finished visiting the other families, the sun had already moved past its highest point.
They had spoken to four families.
Four different deaths.
Four different explanations.
Yet something kept bothering Cassian.
Every victim had been healthy before their death.
None of them had been known to suffer from a serious illness.
One had suddenly collapsed after complaining that he could not breathe properly, almost as though an asthma attack had struck him without warning.
Another had developed a sudden feverish heat before blood began flowing from his nose.
The third had suddenly started vomiting blood before losing consciousness.
The fourth had complained that his chest felt strangely tight and that he could barely draw a proper breath.
None of the families had expected anything like it.
None of them had seen the deaths coming.
And despite the different symptoms, every victim had been young, healthy, active, and cheerful shortly before their deaths.
The team stopped near the village square.
Owen opened his notebook and looked through his notes.
"Four victims. Their ages were twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, and twenty-nine."
Lyra looked at him with a thoughtful expression.
"Their symptoms were completely different, but their ages are strangely close."
Damon nodded slowly.
"Their families also described them in almost the same way. None of them had been sick, and all of them seemed perfectly normal before it happened."
Mira looked down at her notes.
"The symptoms may not be connected, but the timing of their deaths could still matter."
Cassian remained quiet as he looked through the photographs they had collected from the families.
Something about the four people felt familiar.
He couldn't explain what it was yet.
"We will organize everything tonight," he finally said. "For now, I want us to visit the church again."
Owen closed his notebook and looked at him.
"Why do you want to return to the church?"
Cassian looked toward the old building in the distance.
"We have questioned the families. Now I want to hear the story from someone who has watched this happen for years."
"..."
The church was quieter than it had been the previous day, but it was not empty.
Several villagers were already seated across the wooden benches, their heads lowered as Father Alistair stood near the front of the altar.
The team entered quietly and took seats toward the back.
They had been walking since morning, and the cool air inside the church felt surprisingly pleasant after the heat outside.
Mira folded her hands together.
"We should stay for the prayers before we speak with Father Alistair."
Damon glanced toward the altar.
"That sounds reasonable. We have already come this far."
Cassian nodded.
"Then we will wait until the prayers are finished."
The six settled into their seats.
At the front, Father Alistair continued speaking to the villagers.
His voice was calm and steady, carrying naturally through the old church.
"Sometimes, we ask for answers when what we truly need is patience."
Several villagers listened quietly.
Father Alistair looked toward the statue of Jesus above the altar.
"We may not understand why certain things happen in our lives, but that does not mean we are forgotten."
His words were simple, and there was no dramatic tone in them.
He spoke like someone who had repeated the same kind of words many times before.
"Keep faith when the road becomes difficult, and remember those who are no longer able to walk beside you."
The villagers lowered their heads.
The team followed.
Father Alistair began the prayer.
The church slowly filled with the soft sound of joined voices.
For the first few minutes, everyone remained attentive.
Then Milo leaned slightly toward Caelan.
"I think my legs have stopped belonging to me."
Caelan kept his eyes forward.
"You have been sitting for less than ten minutes."
"That is exactly why I am worried about them."
Caelan pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh.
Milo whispered again.
"If this continues much longer, you may have to carry me outside."
Caelan finally glanced at him.
"I am not carrying you anywhere."
A quiet laugh escaped Milo.
Elara, sitting nearby, turned toward them with a warning look.
"Both of you should probably stop before someone hears you."
Milo immediately straightened himself.
"I was only trying to keep Caelan awake."
Caelan whispered back.
"You were the one complaining about falling asleep."
A faint smile appeared on Elara's face before she turned her attention back toward the altar.
Cassian had heard everything.
He looked at them for a moment.
Then quietly shook his head.
Even during a case, they somehow found a way to make themselves ridiculous.
The prayer continued.
And continued.
By the time Father Alistair began another passage, Damon was staring at the wooden floor as if he were trying to remember how long they had been sitting there.
Mira noticed and quietly nudged his arm.
Damon looked at her.
She whispered,
"Try to look respectful."
He whispered back,
"I am being respectful. I am just becoming very aware of time."
Mira covered her smile with her hand.
Cassian looked forward again.
For once, nobody was discussing the coffin.
Nobody was studying the case.
Nobody was trying to solve anything.
They were simply six students sitting among the villagers, listening to an ordinary morning prayer.
Eventually, Father Alistair's voice softened.
"May the Lord watch over your homes, your families, and the people you carry in your hearts."
The villagers bowed their heads.
"May those who have gone before us rest in peace, and may those who remain find strength to continue."
The final prayer was spoken.
The villagers responded together.
"Amen."
Father Alistair gave the congregation a gentle blessing.
"Go in peace, and carry kindness with you wherever you go."
The villagers slowly began to stand.
Milo released a quiet breath.
"Oh, thank goodness. My legs have finally been released."
Caelan looked at him.
"You survived a prayer."
Milo gave him a tired smile.
"I am proud of myself."
Damon quietly laughed.
Even Cassian couldn't stop the small smile that appeared on his face.
The service was finally over.
The villagers began leaving the church in small groups, greeting one another and speaking about ordinary things.
Some stopped near the entrance to speak with Father Alistair.
Others headed back toward the village.
The atmosphere that had felt solemn only moments earlier slowly returned to normal.
Cassian waited until most of the crowd had dispersed.
Then he stood.
"Now we can talk to him."
The others followed.
Father Alistair was still near the altar when Cassian approached.
The priest noticed the academy badges immediately.
"You waited until the service was finished."
Cassian nodded.
"We did not want to disturb the prayers."
Father Alistair smiled.
"I appreciate that."
Cassian opened his notebook.
"We wanted to ask you a few questions about the coffin case."
The priest's expression remained calm.
"Of course. You may ask whatever you need."
Cassian gestured toward the nearby seats.
"Would you mind if we spoke here?"
"Not at all."
They sat down.
The others gathered around Cassian, leaving enough space between themselves and the priest.
Cassian looked at his notes.
"How long have you served this church, Father?"
"I have been here for nine years."
"Then you were already here when the coffin first appeared."
"Yes. I remember the first incident quite clearly."
"Did you personally see the coffin that evening?"
"I did."
"Did you see anyone bringing it toward the church?"
"No. When I came outside, the coffin was already there."
Cassian wrote down the answer.
"Did anyone see it being carried through the village?"
"Not that I remember. If someone had seen anything like that, I believe the villagers would have spoken about it."
Cassian looked up.
"Did you ever see someone remove the coffin?"
"No. It was there at night, and by morning it was gone."
"What about the body?"
Father Alistair became slightly more serious.
"The body was already inside whenever the coffin was discovered."
"Did you personally examine any of the bodies?"
"I saw them, but I am not a healer. I never claimed to know what had caused their deaths."
"Did you know any of the victims personally?"
"I knew some of them. Bellgrave is not a large village, so most faces become familiar over time."
"Were any of them suffering from serious illness?"
"No. As far as I knew, they were healthy young people."
Cassian paused.
"Did anyone ever report seeing the body disappear?"
"No. Nobody has ever claimed to witness it."
"Then how did the villagers know it was gone?"
"They checked the coffin during the night. When morning came, the body was no longer inside."
Cassian slowly nodded.
"Who usually stayed near the coffin?"
"Several villagers took turns watching it."
"Did you know who they were?"
"I knew most of their names, although the people changed from one occurrence to another."
"Did any of them report hearing or seeing anything unusual?"
"Some mentioned strange sounds, but nobody reported seeing a person near the coffin."
Cassian looked at him for a moment.
"What about the church bell?"
Father Alistair glanced toward the bell tower.
"It has rung unexpectedly on several occasions."
"Do you know what causes it?"
"I believe the old mechanism is responsible. It has been here longer than I have."
"Even when nobody is operating it?"
"Yes. Old mechanisms can behave strangely."
His answer came naturally.
There was no visible hesitation.
No nervous glance.
Nothing that immediately stood out.
Cassian lowered his eyes to the notebook.
He wrote another question.
"Did the victims behave differently before their deaths?"
Father Alistair shook his head.
"Not from what I heard. Their families described them as ordinary, healthy, and cheerful."
Cassian closed his notebook.
"Thank you for answering our questions honestly."
Father Alistair nodded.
"You are welcome. I hope your investigation brings peace to the families."
Cassian stood.
"We hope so too."
The others rose behind him.
Before they left, Father Alistair raised his hand.
"May the Lord guide your steps and keep you safe during your journey."
The team bowed their heads.
"Amen."
Father Alistair gave them a final blessing.
"Go carefully, and do not allow fear to decide your actions."
The conversation was finally coming to an end.
Cassian closed his notebook and stood.
"Thank you for taking the time to answer our questions, Father. We will not keep you any longer."
Father Alistair gave him a gentle smile.
"You are welcome. I hope your work brings some peace to the families."
Cassian nodded.
"We hope so too."
The team began preparing to leave.
Before they reached the entrance, several people quietly entered the church.
A young couple walked in with their families, speaking softly among themselves.
Father Alistair noticed them and smiled.
"It seems you have arrived at the right time."
The couple stopped near the altar.
Father Alistair looked toward them.
"I was about to offer a separate prayer for the two of you."
The bride lowered her head with a shy smile.
The groom stood beside her, looking calm and happy.
Father Alistair turned toward the altar and folded his hands.
"Let us pray for their future together, that they may find strength in one another and remain blessed through every difficulty."
The couple stood quietly while Father Alistair offered the prayer.
The team remained near the side, waiting.
Cassian's attention wandered toward the couple.
His eyes settled on the groom.
The young man looked around twenty-eight.
Cassian stared for a moment.
Brown eyes.
And around the brown iris was a faint blue shade.
Something about it caught Cassian's attention.
He didn't know why.
He simply remembered it.
Father Alistair finished the prayer and gave the couple a warm blessing.
"May your life together be filled with patience, understanding, and happiness."
The groom bowed his head.
"Thank you, Father. Your blessing means a lot to us."
Father Alistair smiled.
"There is one more thing I would like you to have."
He reached toward a small wooden box resting beside the altar.
From inside, he took out a small silver object.
It was not large enough to draw much attention.
A strange pattern had been carved across its surface, forming a design Cassian had never seen before.
Father Alistair placed it in the groom's hand.
"Keep this with you. Let it remind you of the promise you made today."
The groom looked down at the object.
"I will keep it safe, Father. Thank you."
Cassian's eyes remained on the silver piece for another second.
That strange pattern...
He couldn't understand why he remembered it so clearly.
Then the groom closed his fingers around it.
Cassian finally looked away.
The couple thanked Father Alistair once more before leaving with their families.
The church slowly became quiet again.
Cassian stood there for a moment.
He didn't know whether the man's eyes or the strange silver object had caught his attention first.
Perhaps neither meant anything.
Still, he made a mental note of both.
He had learned not to ignore details simply because they looked ordinary.
"...."
The team returned to the inn before sunset.
The others were tired and began sorting their notes.
Cassian sat alone at the table.
He placed the photographs in front of him.
Adrian.
Lucan.
And the other two victims.
He studied each photograph carefully.
Their faces were different.
Their hairstyles were different.
Their expressions were different.
But their ages were close.
And their eyes...
Cassian leaned closer.
He looked at one photograph.
Then another.
Then another.
All brown.
All with that faint blue shade around the iris.
He frowned.
He wasn't ready to call it a clue.
It could be coincidence.
But four people sharing the same unusual feature was worth recording.
Cassian opened his notebook.
He wrote:
Victims: approximately 25–30 years old.
He paused before adding:
Brown eyes with faint blue ring around iris.
His pen stopped.
The groom from the church came back to his mind.
Cassian stared at the page.
Then he wrote another line.
Find other people with similar age and eyes.
He looked at the sentence for several seconds.
It was only an observation.
Nothing more.
Still, something about it bothered him.
He turned the page.
At the top, he wrote:
Church Father — ?
Then he stopped.
He did not know what to write after the question mark.
Cassian closed the notebook.
For now, there was no accusation.
There was no conclusion.
Only a detail that refused to leave his mind.
Outside, Bellgrave slowly became quiet again.
And somewhere beyond the village, the old church stood beneath the evening sky.
Only two days remained.
The next coffin would appear soon.
And Team One still had no idea what would be waiting inside it.
—by Aurea; "Sometimes, the strangest answers are hidden inside the details we almost ignore."