Crimson Ties

Driving away from the manor, Vince observed the mist clung thick and low to the streets, wrapping the city of Bog Bay in a veil that blurred the lines between past and present, wealth and grit. The windshield wipers swept a steady rhythm, cutting through the light rain as he slowly rolled through the city's patchwork of neighborhoods, each with its own secrets and shadows.

His hand instinctively reached up to adjust the rearview mirror, and as he did, his reflection caught his eye for a brief moment. His face, weathered by years of hard work and sleepless nights, looked tired yet sharp. The creases around his eyes, permanent from too many long stares into darkness, seemed deeper tonight, accentuated by the dim light of the streetlamps flickering past. His jaw was rough, stubbled, a few days' growth that added to the ruggedness of his look. His dark eyes, set beneath furrowed brows, scanned his reflection for only a second before he looked away, as if the image of himself was something he'd long grown accustomed to ignoring. The rain droplets streaked down the glass, blurring his face further, but the lingering tension in his posture—the slight set of his shoulders, the tightness around his mouth—spoke volumes of the weight he carried with each case, each question that refused to be answered.

Bog Bay City was a place of contrasts, where old money estates sat side-by-side with rows of neglected brownstones and half-lit storefronts. The wealthy, clustered in historic enclaves, hid behind wrought-iron gates and manicured lawns, their opulent homes sprawling into the hills beyond the city's heart. The older districts, marked by cobbled streets and buildings with chipped facades, were alive with murmurs of an unsolved past. This was a city that knew how to mask its scars, but for those like Vince, who had spent years combing its darkest corners, the cracks in the façade were all too clear.

The closer he got to the academy, the narrower the streets became, bordered by towering elm trees and historic streetlamps casting a yellow haze. Along the way, he passed clusters of small diners and worn-down bookshops wedged between newer, trendier cafes trying to reinvigorate the area's appeal. But Bog Bay was a city that resisted change, clinging instead to a gritty charm that pulled in dreamers and misfits, and sometimes those with secrets too heavy to bear.

Outside Chrysalis Academy

The Chrysalis Academy loomed up ahead, its towering iron gates and ivy-clad stone walls a fortress unto itself. An all-girls school with a century-old reputation, it was nestled on the far edge of town, set apart by purpose and privilege. Rumors whispered through the streets about what went on inside those walls—strict codes of conduct, shadowed by the whispered aspirations of parents who would pay anything to secure their daughters' futures. For all its prestige, there was a silence to the grounds, a too-perfect stillness that hinted at the weight of expectations within.

As Vince pulled up to the gate, he scanned the perimeter, noting the thick woods that encircled the property. The academy's gothic architecture rose high and stern against the backdrop of trees, its spires and dark brick walls casting long shadows across the campus even in daylight.

"Been here before, never got in though, let's see the inside" he muttered.

Vince's arrival at Chrysalis Academy was met with immediate resistance. The guard on duty eyed him suspiciously. She was a no-nonsense type, her posture rigid, her hand resting on the baton at her side.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice clipped and cold.

Vince took a slow breath, trying to keep his composure. "I'm here to speak with someone about a missing student, Hannah Kensington. I was hoping to gather some information."

The guard didn't move, her gaze narrowing. "We don't allow unauthorized visitors on campus. Do you have an appointment?"

"No," Vince admitted, his voice steady. "I'm with the police. Detective Vince Kane. I've been assigned to look into the disappearance of Hannah Kensington. This is urgent."

The guard hesitated, her eyes flicking to the badge pinned to his coat. She wasn't convinced. "Without clearance, I can't let you in. Not even for something like this. You need to go through the proper channels."

Vince clenched his jaw, holding back the frustration rising inside him. He had no time to waste on bureaucracy. But before the situation could escalate, a voice rang out from the stone doorway.

"Is there a problem, Sergeant?"

The guard turned, and Vince followed her gaze as a woman stepped into view. She was tall, regal in bearing, and wore the confident, composed air of someone who had been in charge for a long time. Her dark hair was tied back into a tight knot, her sharp eyes studying Vince with a look that suggested both curiosity and caution.

"I believe we've got a visitor who insists on seeing us without an appointment," the guard said.

The woman's gaze shifted to Vince, her eyes lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "Detective Kane, I presume?" She spoke his name like it was a fact, not a question.

"Yes," Vince responded, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. She had the kind of presence that commanded attention, and something about her seemed calculating, as if she weighed every word, every gesture.

She held his gaze for a moment longer, then nodded slightly. "I'm Evelyn Rhys, the Headmistress of Chrysalis Academy. The guard will let you in. We can speak in my office."

Without another word, Evelyn turned and walked back into the academy, her footsteps echoing across the gravel courtyard, leaving Vince with no choice but to follow.

Vince followed Evelyn Rhys, stepping onto the gravel path leading to the academy's imposing front entrance. The Chrysalis Academy had a reputation for elegance and restraint, and its grounds were no exception. Outside, perfectly manicured gardens stretched on either side of the main path, dotted with marble statues of faceless muses and ancient scholars. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and clipped boxwood, and the relentless drizzle seemed only to heighten the academy's eerie, cloistered charm. Thick vines of ivy clung stubbornly to the stone walls, weaving themselves around the gothic arches and narrow, stained-glass windows, creating a patchwork of shadowy greens against the dark stone exterior.

Past the iron gates, the courtyard stretched wide, with paths branching off toward smaller buildings—a chapel, a library, and a row of faculty housing cloaked in the same somber stone. Old lanterns hung from wrought-iron posts lining the walkways, their dull glow struggling to cut through the fog that lay like a blanket over the campus. The place felt sealed off from the rest of Bog Bay, as though it operated on its own private time, removed from the world outside.

Inside, the academy was a hushed labyrinth of polished wood and flickering candlelight, though it was clear that modern amenities had crept in over the years. Vince's footsteps echoed softly on the stone floors, and as he moved down the corridor, the faint scent of lemon polish and old paper wafted through the air. Heavy wooden doors marked each classroom, some open to reveal rows of mahogany desks and neat rows of chalkboards bearing fragments of Latin and French lessons.

Portraits of somber-faced benefactors lined the hallways, their stern gazes following him as he passed. Every corridor seemed meticulously planned, a network of narrow hallways that branched off like veins, each leading to quiet study rooms or cloistered lounges filled with overstuffed chairs and dark oak tables. In one corner, a massive marble staircase wound upward, its bannister carved with the academy's crest—a single chrysalis, symbolizing the transformation expected of the girls who walked these halls.

In the central atrium, towering windows stretched almost from floor to ceiling, their stained glass panels casting a kaleidoscope of muted colors onto the checkerboard floors below. Rows of antique bookshelves, stacked with leather-bound tomes, stretched toward the arched ceiling, transforming the space into a shadowed sanctuary of knowledge and ritual. Small alcoves held cushioned window seats where students could presumably study, though the thick, dusty drapes and faded upholstery suggested that few lingered there often.

As they silently made their way deeper into the building, the sound of students' voices grew louder. He saw groups of girls walking in pairs or small clusters, their crisp uniforms sharp against the faded elegance of the academy's interior. Some were chatting, others were deep in thought, but as Vince passed by, he noticed that none of them seemed to recognize him. He wasn't exactly a stranger in Bog Bay, but here, in the midst of the academy's elite, his reputation hadn't reached its way into the halls.

One group of students, all dressed in the academy's signature navy and gray, gave him curious glances as he walked by, their whispered conversation muffled by the soft echoes of the hallway.

"Who's that with the headmistress? He doesn't look like he belongs here," one girl muttered, her eyes scanning him up and down, taking in his worn coat and the sharpness of his features.

Another girl leaned closer to her friend, trying to get a better look at him. "I don't know... he looks like a detective, maybe? But, like, why would a detective be here?"

The third girl, quieter and more observant, shrugged. "He's probably just lost. Doesn't seem like he's here for anything official."

They all exchanged looks, curiosity swirling between them.

But the murmurs didn't last long. Soon enough, they were walking in the other direction, the intrigue fading as they turned back to their own world, leaving Vince to continue on his path. They didn't know him, and that was fine. He wasn't here for their attention. He was here for answers, for Hannah Kensington—and if it meant wandering these hallowed halls of the elite, he'd do it without a second thought.