I wiped the sweat from my forehead as I stepped out of the van and slammed the door behind me. The sun was still hiding, barely pushing itself over the edge of the skyline, but Lagos had already woken up. We'd been down at the south docks for three hours. Three wasted hours.
"Nothing," Mira muttered beside me, stretching her back like a cat. "No beasts, no witnesses, no signs of any recent attack."
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Another dead end."
Kaze, our youngest unit member, shrugged as he leaned on the front of the car. "Maybe the alert was fake."
"No," I said sharply. "Something's wrong. Even if it's not a beast, the source of the call should've been there. The energy sensors spiked last night for a reason."
"But there was no trace," Mira added.
I didn't reply. My head ached from lack of sleep, and my stomach churned from too much black coffee. The docks had smelled like stale water and regret. Now, the only thing I could think of was heading back to the office and sitting in silence.
The drive back to the precinct was quiet. The radio was off. Even Kaze, who usually wouldn't shut up, was silent, staring out the window like he was waiting for something to pop out from behind the highway pillars.
As we approached the heart of the city, the noise returned. Honking horns. Agitated voices. Chants?
We turned a corner, and that's when we saw them.
A crowd. No—more than that. A protest. Dozens of people blocking the road in front of the precinct. They held signs, their voices echoing louder than the sirens we often ignored.
"Bring them back!"
"My son is only five!"
"Where are our children?!"
Kaze blinked. "What the hell…?"
Mira was already unbuckling her seatbelt. "Get your badge out. This just got messier."
We parked two streets down and approached on foot. The air buzzed with heat and panic. Some of the protesters were crying. Others looked like they hadn't slept in days. A few were screaming directly at the building, as if the walls themselves had swallowed their kids.
I stepped into the middle of the chaos, flashing my badge. "Back up! This is a government building—keep the road clear!"
Someone grabbed my arm. A middle-aged woman with swollen eyes and shaking hands. "Please… please tell me they're here. My twins went missing two nights ago. No ransom, no clues, nothing!"
"I—" I stopped. What was I supposed to say? That we were just as clueless?
"We're investigating every case," Mira said quickly, stepping in beside me. "We're doing everything we can."
The woman didn't believe her. None of them did.
We squeezed past the crowd and into the building. The lobby was a mess too. Phones ringing off the hook, officers arguing, coffee spilled across the front desk.
"What happened?" I asked the receptionist.
"Fifteen missing children in four days," she replied without blinking. "Every district. No witnesses, no cameras, no leads."
Fifteen.
My blood turned cold.
Inside the operations room, our captain, a man with a permanent frown carved into his face, was already yelling at two junior detectives.
"You think I care if you're tired?! This city is breaking down and we don't even have suspects! Go! Bring me something—anything!"
He turned and saw us. "Asen. Mira. Get in here. Now."
We followed him into the briefing room. He slammed the door behind us and tossed a stack of files on the table.
"Missing children. Multiple districts. The press is breathing down my neck and the mayor's already talking about 'outside help.' You think I'm letting some politician bring in private bounty freaks? No. We're solving this."
"Are they connected?" I asked, flipping through one of the files.
"No ransom demands. No common location. All gone from their homes. Locked doors, windows shut, no sign of struggle."
I frowned. "Could be magic-related."
"There's no residue," Mira said. "We scanned every house. It's like they vanished into air."
The captain lit a cigarette, even though the room had a no-smoking sign. "Get to work. Now."
We spent the next six hours going through reports, maps, and interview transcripts. At some point, Kaze brought in a whiteboard and tried to start connecting dots. Nothing stuck. The only thing we knew was that parents were losing their minds, and the city was about to crack under pressure.
By the time evening came, my head was spinning.
I stepped outside the office for a breather, letting the humid air hit my face. The sky had turned gray, thick with storm clouds that hadn't decided whether to cry or not.
I pulled out my phone.
Still no call from Sayaka.
I called her again anyway. Straight to voicemail.
She was still ignoring me. I didn't even know what I'd done wrong this time. Maybe she'd figured out I was never going to be normal. That I was never going to be the guy who came home early, smiled all the time, and talked about a future with kids and gardens and vacation plans.
My job came with corpses. Nightmares. And recently, a city spiraling into supernatural chaos.
I put my phone back in my pocket and walked back inside.
At some point, Mira left to file reports, and Kaze dozed off at his desk. I took the files home with me. I knew I wouldn't sleep anyway.
My apartment was still a mess. Empty food containers on the counter. Shirts on the floor. I walked straight into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and grabbed a bottle of water.
Something smelled off.
I squinted at the milk carton. Took a sniff. Expired. Days ago.
I chucked it in the trash, grabbed some instant noodles, and tossed them in a pot.
As they cooked, I sat on the counter and stared at the cracked wall across from me.
Something wasn't right. The missing kids. The false alarm at the docks. The ghosts growing louder in my head at night.
Something was building.
I ate quickly, too hungry to care about taste, then walked into the living room. Collapsed onto the couch. My eyes were burning.
I didn't remember falling asleep.
The scream came first.
High-pitched. Child-like. Sharp.
Then the sound of glass shattering. Rubber squealing. Metal crunching.
I opened my eyes.
The street was full of smoke and fire. I was outside, barefoot, rain soaking my clothes.
I turned my head and saw the wreck.
My parents' car. Twisted. Burning.
My younger self stood near the sidewalk, staring in horror. Tears streamed down his face.
"No! Mama—Papa—wake up!" the child cried. "Please don't leave!"
I took a step forward. I knew this dream. I'd lived it a thousand times. But this time... something was different.
The flames were moving oddly. Like they were alive.
Then the world shifted. Melted into shadow.
I was no longer on the street.
I stood in a dark apartment. My parents' old place. The smell of cooking oil and fabric softener still clung to the air.
And then he appeared.
The Demon God.
Tall. Shrouded in shadow. His face hidden behind a cracked porcelain mask. Eyes like lanterns glowing red.
"You carry my mark," he said, voice low, echoing. "Death walks with you, Asen. Embrace it… or be devoured by it."
I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
"You will see more," the god continued. "You will suffer more. This city will feed me soon."
He raised a hand.
I screamed.
The alarm ripped through the air.
I sat up, gasping. My shirt soaked in sweat. Heart thundering.
5:00am
Same dream. Always the same.
My phone rang.
I reached for it with shaking fingers.
Mira.
"What is it?" I asked, voice rough.
"You need to come in," she said. "Now."
"What happened?"
"There's been another disappearance."
I rubbed my eyes.
"No," she added. "Two."
My blood ran cold.
"And, Asen…"
"What?"
"One of them is the mayor's daughter."