It was 07:00 PM on Saturday, and the sprawling new mansion of Angela Pierce's family buzzed with the lively hum of a housewarming party.
The grand estate, nestled on the outskirts of the city, gleamed under the warm glow of crystal chandeliers hanging from vaulted ceilings.
Marble floors reflected the soft light, and the scent of fresh flowers mingled with the subtle aroma of expensive perfumes.
Angela Pierce, heiress to a wealthy and influential lineage, had invited a large crowd of friends and acquaintances—Rossie, Michael, Ethan, Becky, Lila, and others—filling the opulent rooms with laughter and chatter.
Angela was the undeniable center of attention. She had chosen a striking, form-fitting red dress that hugged her curves perfectly, the plunging neckline daring yet elegant.
Her confidence radiated with every step as she moved gracefully through the crowd, exchanging smiles and witty remarks.
Guests turned their heads to watch her, drawn not just by her beauty but by the aura of power she effortlessly exuded.
Across the room, Michael tried to blend into the background. He stood with Rossie, Lila, Ethan, Becky, and a few others, huddled in a cozy corner near a large window. They sipped drinks and exchanged lighthearted gossip, a rare moment of calm amid the recent chaos that had consumed their lives.
The group's mood was relaxed, laughter bubbling up now and then, but Michael's mind was elsewhere, clouded by the weight of secrets and strange powers he barely understood.
Ethan, ever perceptive, leaned toward Michael, his tone curious but probing.
"Where've you been, man? You missed the competition—your weird attitude's got us worried. You've been off lately."
Michael shifted uncomfortably, his hand brushing against the untitled book tucked deep in his pocket, its presence a constant weight against his leg.
The book was a mystery, filled with cryptic symbols and pages that seemed to shift when he wasn't looking.
More troubling was the power it granted him—the "Eyes of Mistura," a strange ability that had begun to whisper to him in dreams, urging him toward unknown destinies.
"Just… dealing with some stuff," Michael mumbled, avoiding eye contact. His voice was low, almost hesitant.
"It's nothing you need to worry about."
Rossie frowned slightly, sensing there was more beneath the surface, but before she could press him further, Michael's gaze drifted across the room—and froze.
Near the grand staircase stood Angela, laughing heartily. Her laughter was bright and genuine, but what caught Michael's attention was the man she was with—a hefty guy with broad shoulders, his hands holding hers in a way that lingered longer than casual friendship.
The man's confident smile and easy manner suggested familiarity, and a surge of jealousy ignited deep within Michael's chest.
The violet-eyed influence of Mistura's power whispered in his mind, a seductive and commanding voice:
"Claim what is yours."
Michael's breath hitched. Without thinking, his body moved on its own, swift and unnatural. He stormed toward Angela and the man, his footsteps echoing sharply on the marble floor. The guests nearby turned to watch, sensing the sudden tension.
Michael grabbed the hefty guy's arm and yanked him away with a strength that defied his build, sending the man crashing into a nearby table. Glasses shattered on the marble floor, the table splintering beneath the impact.
The room fell into stunned silence, the sharp sound of breaking glass hanging in the air.
Rossie and her friends gaped, their eyes wide with shock.
How could Michael have overpowered a man so much bigger than him?
The display hinted at something beyond human capability, something dark and powerful lurking beneath Michael's calm exterior.
Angela's eyes widened in surprise, her laughter cut short.
"Michael, what the hell?" she demanded, stepping forward.
Before Michael could answer, the MC's voice boomed over the speakers, attempting to regain control of the situation.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our special guests for the evening!"
The list of dignitaries and business figures was announced, their names met with polite applause.
Then, the MC's tone shifted, sending a chill through the room:
"And please welcome Mia and Tom!"
The crowd clapping , unknowingly to them who Mia and Tom was¿
Rossie, Ethan, Becky, Lila, and Angela turned to one another, their faces a mix of surprise and confusion.
Mia and Tom—the occultic students?
But more shocking was the whispered connection to Angela's mother, a revelation that darkened the festive atmosphere.
The night's festivities had taken a sharp turn.
Michael's flushed face, the broken table, and the unexpected arrival of Mia and Tom wove a dark thread into the evening's tapestry, leaving each carcuses wondering what secrets lay beneath the surface of this glittering party.
•••••••••••••••
It was a warm Sunday afternoon, around 4:30 PM, and the recreation center just outside the city was alive with the sounds of weekend visitors.
Families were sprawled on picnic blankets, kids were laughing and playing near the playground, and the gentle splash of water from a nearby fountain added to the cheerful ambiance.
Detective James Carter, slightly weary and dressed in a rumpled police uniform, found himself sitting alone at one of the outdoor tables. The late afternoon sun cast long, soothing shadows across the concrete, a stark contrast to the chaos he had recently experienced.
With his much-anticipated leave just a week away, James had been looking forward to some well-earned rest.
After the adrenaline-fueled chaos surrounding the Parador heist.
He was daydreaming about what he might do—perhaps hiking in the hills or just relaxing at home with a good book—when his boss, Chief Inspector Daniels, a no-nonsense man with graying hair and a perpetual frown, pulled up to the table, his dark sunglasses shielding his eyes from the sun.
"Carter," he said, his tone a mix of urgency and authority. James looked up, a slight frown crossing his face.
"I was hoping to wrap things up quietly, sir," he replied, trying to keep his voice professional despite the irritation bubbling beneath the surface. "My leave starts soon."
Daniels, however, merely adjusted his sunglasses and replied, "I understand, but this can't wait. I need you on one last case."
He slid a thick file across the table, its cover boldly marked with a red confidential stamp that made James's stomach tighten in apprehension.
Leaning in closer, Daniels lowered his voice, casting quick glances around to ensure no one was listening.
"This is tied to Angela Pierce's mother. We've stumbled upon some suspicious financials and possible connections to that recent incident at the stadium. There are whispers of occult activity, and her name keeps surfacing."
James leaned back, absorbing the weight of the information. His frown deepened; his gut instinct warned him that this case was going to be much more complicated than it initially appeared. He opened his mouth to voice his concerns, but Daniels spoke over him, pulling an envelope from inside his jacket and placing it beside the file.
"This," he said, tapping the envelope lightly, "is ten thousand dollars, all off the books. Consider it a bonus for stepping up." His eyes were steely, watching James closely.
James's heart raced. That amount of money was unusually generous for what should be a routine investigation, especially with his leave so close. He knew his boss well enough to sense that something deeper was at play—maybe hidden motives, external pressure from higher-ups, or even personal stakes involved.
Thoughts raced through his mind, frolicking back to Angela's mum housewarming party, the unexpected presence of Mia and Tom, and the shadowy intentions of the occult group.
Was Angela's mother complicit, or was she simply being used as a pawn in someone else's game?
Daniels stood abruptly, leaving the heavy file and the envelope behind.
"Review it tonight," he instructed, almost dismissively, as if the gravity of the situation was secondary to him.
"We need answers by the end of the week." With a curt nod, he walked away, melting into the bustling crowd of visitors, leaving James with an overwhelming sense of unease.
James stared at the file, the pages seemingly whispering secrets he wasn't yet ready to uncover. His coffee sat untouched, growing cold beside him as the cheerful sounds of the recreation center contrasted sharply with the turmoil brewing within him. It was as if the world around him blurred away, leaving him alone with a gut-wrenching feeling; there was something far more dangerous lurking beneath the surface of this case. And as the envelope sat ominously next to the file, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being drawn into a web far beyond his control, one that might unravel mysteries he was not prepared for.
With a deep breath, James picked up the file, the sun hovering low in the sky, casting deeper shadows—and signaling that the night's revelations might bring more than just answers.