As the carriage clattered along the snowy road, the powder rose up and frosted the windows that Madalina was gazing out of. Having left the clinic a few days prior, the healers had warned her not to get involved in anything too strenuous while her magic was still adjusting to her body's changes.
But she had no other choice. No one was talking to her at the precinct about the case, and there had been very little news coverage other than the obituaries for her parents, which she had helped to provide.
She had to get justice.
As the carriage stopped, she tipped the driver handsomely and stepped out, holding her skirts up as she walked through the gates that had been left unlocked, snow crunching underfoot as she made her way up to the skeletal remains of the mansion.
What she saw twisted her guts into a knot, observing through her remaining eye the burnt wooden structure with the fallen-in roof, the blackened windows, and of course, the smell of smoke, and death. So this is where they had dragged her out of.
Madalina swallowed her grief and rage and pressed onwards, stepping over the remains of the doorway and into what was once the front hall.
She found nothing inside the house but memories, even as she walked from place to place on the first floor, wary of her steps. The house could, after all, give out at any moment around her. Madalina was aware of this, so she kept her gait quick.
The house groaned underneath her touch and she opened the door to what was once the tea room. Her tears fell down her cheeks at the sight of it, as she leaned on a sooty, ruined couch seat. The leather underneath her fingertips felt like rubber, and the smell of fire caught in her throat.
She choked, gasping lightly and lapsing into a coughing fit. She conjured a little orb of wind and then threw it at the ground, purifying the air and creating a little flurry of soot as she did so. It landed on her pure white dress and stained it charcoal.
"I don't know why I came back here," She said to no-one in particular.
"Now that is a question for the ages, isn't it?" A voice unfamiliar to her answered. She whirled around to see none other than Pelleas standing by the doorway to the sunroom, a quiet sort of sadness in their eyes.
"Why are you here?" They asked before she could ask the same question, and Madalina swallowed hard again, gripping the seat harder.
"I could ask you the same question."
"Unlike you, my lady, I am in fact an investigator."
Madalina bit the inside of her cheek. They were right about that, as miserable as it made her feel. "So you suggest I should sit aside and do nothing while you and your partner poke around the remains of my life?"
"I suggest," Pelleas stated, taking steps towards her, "That you and I work together to help you find out who did this."
"And what of your partner? Is she –"
"She's waiting in the carriage. She can't stand the cold, you see."
Madalina felt like her veins were turning to ice. She shrugged her shawl closer and looked away, towards the cremated remains of the greenhouse.
"I'm beginning to find that I cannot stand the warmth, so here we are."
Pelleas knew the look on her face; They had seen it many a time before from far more jilted victims. Their smile became lopsided as they regarded her, stuffing their hands into their pockets.
"Believe what you wish. I won't get in your way, but I can't let you wander around an active crime scene and leave fingerprints everywhere, either."
Madalina opened her mouth to protest, but she found that they were right, so she closed it soon thereafter. With what was left of her pride, she clutched her skirts and began to wander the house's skeleton.
She could not go upstairs, so instead, she began to look around the bottom floor for clues, for any sign of anything out of place. She closed her eyes and focused, trying to feel any wispy remains of magic lingering, just in case the fire had not been natural.
But she found nothing. No traces of magic, nothing lingering – or if it was there, it had long since dissipated. Exhausted, exasperated, and upset, she continued to wander until the sun began to set in the sky.
The twinkling starlight reminded her that she had nowhere to go. So she looked to Pelleas, who had dutifully followed her from place to place.
"I don't have anyone to stay with," She said meekly, "Where am I supposed to go?"
"There's an apartment complex in Icegrowth that'll be perfect for you," They answered, looking skyward as the clouds began to gather and the snow began to fall.
"It's called the Everglades apartments. Let Bula and I take you there."
"Fine." As she climbed into the carriage with the detectives, she kept her gaze on her white gloves, now ashy with soot, and thought of little else but revenge. By the time that the carriage had gone from the mountainsides and into the city, she glanced at Pelleas and Bula, who had been speaking to each other quietly.
"Here's the apartments, miss Chantilly." Bula stated, getting out to open the door for her. "And if you need anything, call this number with your landline."
"Good luck, miss." Pelleas added with a smile, "I'm sure you'll have answers soon enough."
"And if I do not? If this case goes cold?"
"Then Bula and I will do everything in our power to warm it again."
Madalina bit the inside of her cheek before heading into the complex's first floor. Money was no issue to her – The inheritance money from their deaths would pay for at least the entire building, and then some.
Pelleas watched her disappear into the paperwork and turned to Bula.
The orc looked at her partner, as if reading their mind. The carriage driver was given instructions, and the duo disappeared into the city's traffic, leaving Madalina alone within her new, furnished apartment building.
And even as the snow fell against the window panes, Madalina found that she had no tears to shed, and the dull ache in her chest grew ever stronger. As she slept, she dreamt of ashes choking her, and though she did not stir until the late afternoon, she could not shake the feeling of something constricting her throat.
Madalina had no idea what to do next. And when she heard the knock at her door, she didn't know what, or who to expect …
As she opened it, a gasp fell from her mouth.
"Vianola Beniot?"