The small public library smelled of old paper and varnish, a comforting kind of mustiness that made Mara feel safe, even as her mind swirled with grief and unanswered questions. The city wasn't large; everything was close, and yet the past had a way of hiding in plain sight. Alec trailed behind her, carrying a thin folder of notes and photographs he had collected over the past few days.
Mara adjusted her glasses, her dark hair loose around her shoulders now, a few strands tucked behind her ears. Her brown eyes scanned the rows of shelves as she led the way to the local archives, the tiny wooden chairs creaking under her weight as she sat.
"I don't like this," she muttered softly, more to herself than to Alec. "Digging into old deaths, old rumors… it feels like opening a wound that should stay closed."
Alec set the folder on the table. "I know. But if we want to understand what happened to Elara… we have to see the pattern." His fingers moved deliberately over the papers, spreading out newspaper clippings, old police reports, and photographs of victims long since buried in memory.
Mara leaned in. "Three deaths, all near the lake, all before dawn. Blue tints, same hour. People whispered about it back then, but no one could explain it. The last one… five years ago, a young woman. Found exactly like Elara."
Alec nodded. "And each time, the families… they said it was a tragedy. Bad luck. Coincidence. But I've seen the photos. Something links them. Something we can't ignore."
Mara's fingers brushed a small black-and-white photograph of a girl who looked almost like a younger Elara, though with subtle differences. "She looks… familiar," Mara said quietly. "Not in the sense of seeing her, but in the way she holds herself. The poise. The quiet grace."
"Because there's a pattern," Alec said. "They're all… extraordinary in some way. Beautiful, yes, but also… kind. Gentle. People who draw others in without even trying." His voice caught. "It's like… whatever this is, it's drawn to them."
Mara's eyes darkened. "Drawn to good people?"
"Yes," Alec said, tapping the photograph gently. "People who make the world better just by being in it. People like Elara."
The library was quiet except for the occasional shuffle of a page or distant cough. Mara and Alec worked through the files, noting every detail—times, locations, weather, witnesses. The older reports were vague, almost dismissive, but the patterns were undeniable. Blue marks, early morning hours, the presence of water nearby, and a faint trace of… something unexplainable in each case.
Mara leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes. "It's like… history repeating itself. But why now? Why Elara?"
Alec's fingers hovered over a page. "Because she knew. She felt it coming. And now, it's not done. It's like… it's waiting for the next step. And it chose her."
Mara's gaze met his. "Then we need to be careful. And smart. And fast."
He nodded. "We start by understanding the past. If we know what it's done before, maybe we can predict… maybe we can stop it."
For a moment, they worked in silence, pouring over the reports, the weight of the past pressing on them, heavy but necessary. Mara noticed the same fear she had felt at the lake in Alec's eyes, but beneath it, a determination that matched her own.
Outside, the city moved on. People walked their dogs, sipped coffee, exchanged mundane greetings. But inside the library, surrounded by dusty files and faded photographs, Mara and Alec felt the pulse of something waiting—patient, precise, and relentless.
And somewhere in the quiet, a cold memory lingered: Elara's warning, written in the pages of her sketches. The truth was buried there, and they had only just begun to uncover it.