As she spoke, Sage had already approached. She didn’t touch the bodies. She merely observed, her eyes attentive and curious, as if reading something invisible to most.

“It’s not easy to say we’re going to stir up the dead again,” Kate continued. “Besides bringing more pain, it gives the feeling that we’re not-”

“They are dragons.”

Sage’s line landed cleanly in the room.

She didn’t raise her voice, she didn’t dramatize. She spoke as if pointing out evidence too obvious to ignore.

Silence fell immediately.

Sage raised her hands and made a slow, circular motion. A yellowish, almost ethereal smoke enveloped the bodies. For an instant, human skin failed and small holographic scales emerged beneath the surface, reflecting light in subtle, unreal hues.

“Dragons,” she repeated, emotionlessly. “Or direct descendants. Like many other elementals, they were forced to live in anonymity.”

The smoke cleared, and the bodies looked… normal again.

“Like me.”

The weight of those two words hung in the air.

“Malakai… I’m sorry.” Sage took a deep breath, her voice lower. “But don’t call me again for anything related to these cases.”

The request wasn’t a plea. It was a decision.

“I don’t want to get involved with someone who’s draining the blood of dragons.”

Malakai frowned, taking a step forward.

“Wait, Sage… what are you talking about?”

She made a vague gesture, pointing to the bodies on the metal tables.

“That.”, the word came out short. “That’s bad. Very bad.”

Sage took a deep breath, as if gasping for air in an environment that suddenly seemed too rarefied.

“And it goes beyond human comprehension. Whoever is doing this…”

She bit her lower lip. It was a quick, almost imperceptible gesture, but Malakai saw it. For just a second, something that rarely appeared in Sage: fear.

“Review the history of the elementals,” she continued. “Read carefully. You’ll understand what I’m saying.”

Sage looked away, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry. But I can’t…”, the sentence died before it was finished. “I’m not going to help.”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked towards the exit. The sound of her footsteps echoed through the cold, white corridor, which grew ever more distant.

Nobody said anything.

Malakai tried going after her.

“Sage, wait-”

Jay grabbed his arm before he could take another step.

“She must have her reasons,” he said quietly. “Good reasons. Let her go.”

The door closed.

The silence that followed was too heavy.

Kate was the first to break it.

“Do you have any idea what she meant by all that?”

Jax was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his expression closed off. He slowly scratched the back of his neck, his eyes fixed on the bodies, as if trying to force the pieces to fit together.

“Let’s find out,” he replied dryly.

He turned around.

“Andy, gather everything we have on the four victims. Reports, photos, records, everything.”

Andy nodded immediately, already taking his cell phone out of his pocket.

“Now.”

Jax then looked at Malakai.

“And you…” he pointed with his chin. “I want everything that’s ever been documented about dragons. History, legends, official records, anything.”

Malakai swallowed hard, nodding.

“Okay.”

Jax looked away, back at the bodies.

An unsettling feeling grew.

• • •

The meeting room was dimly lit, like almost everything else in that wing of the police station. A lamp flickered above the rectangular table, flickering occasionally, while the projector displayed images and documents on the white wall stained with old marks.

Jax occupied the armchair, a mug of overly strong coffee in his hands. The cigarette remained unlit between his fingers – a temporary sacrifice imposed by the building’s rules, which only irritated him more. He frequently scratched the back of his neck, a habit that arose whenever something refused to make sense.

Jay sat sideways in his chair, his legs propped up on another, twirling a pen between his fingers. Andy occupied the corner closest to the computer, typing too fast, several tabs open on the screen. Malakai remained standing, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, his navy blue bracelet partially hidden under his shirt sleeve.

“From the official standpoint, there’s nothing. None of the four were listed as non-human in government records. Clean paperwork. Normal civil records. Previous examinations indicated nothing outside the human norm.”

“Which means that if they are dragons, they hid them very well,” Jay commented.

“Or someone made sure to hide it for them,” Malakai added.

Jax snorted, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Then why now?” he asked. “Why would anyone start draining their blood right now?”

Andy changed the screen. New images appeared.

“That’s when I started to find things strange,” he said. “I looked at the last known activities of each victim. Not their professions, not their social profile… but what they were doing in the months before they died.”

He clicked.

“Rowan Whitaker. In the last two years of his life, he worked on restoration projects in abandoned areas. Officially, basic infrastructure. Unofficially…” Andy enlarged a map. “Excavations in places too old to be recorded in public records.”

“Yeah… He asked to be transferred to smaller projects because he was ’tired’,” Jay murmured. “Tired of what?”

“Tiredness is a great excuse,” Malakai replied seriously.

Andy changed again.

“Maeve Calloway. Anthropology, ancient rituals, oral traditions. But what didn’t make it into the final report was this.”

He opened photos from the victim’s notebooks.

“She was researching extinct bloodlines. Elementals that disappeared after the great purges. Dragons included.”

Jay sat up straight in the chair.

“She knew.”

“Or she was too close to knowing,” Jax said, scratching the back of his neck.

Andy followed.

“Elliot Harrington. Auditor. He tracked financial transactions linked to the purchase and abandonment of land considered ‘useless’.” Andy took a deep breath. “Except that this land coincides with areas historically associated with ancient rituals. Places where entire communities disappeared centuries ago.”

“Places that should never be touched,” Malakai added, his voice low.

Silence returned.

“And the photographer?” Jax asked. “Julian.”

Andy nodded.

“He was putting together an archive. Not an artistic one. Documentary. Places forgotten by the State… and by choice. Dams, submerged villages, buried ruins.” Andy closed a digital folder. “Places where something happened and was buried along with it.”

Jay let out a low whistle.

“Then they all got too close to something.”

“Or someone got too close to them,” Jax corrected.

He stood up, pushing his chair back, and walked to the whiteboard. He picked up the marker and wrote a single word in the center: FEAR.

“Sage didn’t distance herself from society for nothing,” he said. “She knows something. Something big enough to make a kallid disappear off the map.”

“But I don’t think it’s something involving dragons… I think it’s more about the danger of not being human in modern times,” Malakai added.

“So what is it? Someone who hates anyone who is… ‘special’? That doesn’t make sense… It doesn’t explain the drained blood,” Jay added.

Andy swallowed hard.

“The drained blood…” he paused. “What if these aren’t simple murders? What if it’s a ritual? Whether you believe it’s true or not, that doesn’t stop anyone from performing one.”

Jax stared at the word on the board for a few seconds before adding another below: HUNT.

“Whatever is happening…” he said, his voice heavy. “It didn’t start now. It just became visible.”

He turned to the three of them.

“And when something old resurfaces, it usually comes with enough blood to remind the world why it should have stayed buried.”

The silence that followed was one of agreement.

And in anticipation.

The silence in the meeting room was broken by the dry sound of pages being turned.

Malakai was sitting now, an old book open on the table. The leather cover was worn, the edges jagged, as if it had passed through too many hands over the centuries. It wasn’t something you’d find in public libraries. Nor in official archives.

“Where did you get that?” Andy asked, leaning forward to get a better look.

“It doesn’t matter.” Malakai replied, without taking his eyes off the text. “What matters is what’s here.”

Jax watched from afar, arms crossed, jaw clenched. The mere fact that Malakai was meddling with something so old already irritated him. He didn’t know why, but he felt… comfortable.

“Dragon’s blood,” Malakai began, reading aloud, “when ingested, manipulated, or ritually extracted, can grant abilities that transcend mortal comprehension.”

Jay raised his eyebrows.

“Like… a superpower?”

“It’s a kind of conviction,” Malakai corrected.

He turned a few more pages.

“For humans, the effects are temporary. Strength, stamina, limited longevity… always at a high physical cost.” He looked up. “But for Umbrias…”

Silence returned.

“For the Umbrias, blood acts as a catalyst. It amplifies everything that already exists. Power, perception, ritual mastery.” Malakai slowly closed the book. “In excess, it can even simulate aspects of the draconic essence.”

Jax let out a short, humorless laugh.

“So we’re not dealing with just any lunatic,” he said. “We’re dealing with someone who knows exactly what they’re doing. Someone with knowledge. Planning. Control.”

He scratched the back of his neck as he walked over to the table.

“That refines the profile,” he continued. “He’s not opportunistic. He’s not impulsive. He’s someone who chooses specific victims… and knows how to extract what he wants from them.”

“And it probably won’t stop,” Jay added.

Andy swallowed hard.

“In other words… things are only going to get worse.”

Malakai remained quiet for a few seconds. His gaze was distant, as if he were in another place, or another time.

“I know someone,” he said finally.

Jax immediately raised his face.

“No.”

“You don’t even know who its is,” Malakai replied, too calmly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jax retorted. “If you’re making that face, it’s because it involves something I don’t want to bring into this case.”

Jay leaned forward.

“Jax, with all due respect…” he gestured broadly. “We’ve been past that point a long time ago.”

“Exactly,” Andy agreed. “We’re hunting someone who drains dragon blood to gain power. This isn’t a common case. We need all the help we can get.”

Jax shot a hard look at the two of them.

“Wrong help can kill. It puts us in danger!”

Malakai sighed.

“I know,” he said. “And that’s precisely why I hesitated.”

He closed the book carefully, as if concluding something greater than just reading.

“That person isn’t going to like being involved,” he continued. “And you, Jax… you definitely aren’t going to like the idea.”

Jax held his gaze for a few seconds.

“Then keep that idea to yourself,” he said. “The investigation continues with what we have.”

Malakai nodded slowly.

“Right,” he paused briefly. “But when this gets out of control… and it will… you’re going to need to hear this name.”

“Who is it?” Jay asked, curious.

Malakai stood up; the room seemed smaller.

“Navy Harlow.”