Shadows Over Ravensgate

CW: Strong language/Gore

Ravensgate, a city filled with the shit of the world. The desperate, the crooked and the damned -  they all find their way here eventually. Some come to make a quick buck, others to bury their secrets six feet deep. Most don’t leave. Not with their dignity intact, anyway. Whether it's dealing with the roving groups of goblin pickpockets or getting on the wrong side of gangs like One Eyed Tony’s crew. Everyone in this city gets what they deserve eventually.

I’ve walked these streets for years, stepping over gutter-drowned dreams and side stepping the odd counterfeit wand. The rain never cleans this place, just spreads the filth thinner. 

Me? Detective Calder Graypike, RPD, and one of the last honest detectives in a city that's forgotten what honest means. Been on the force long enough to know justice here ain’t blind - it’s just got one eye closed.

And then there's my partner. Detective Eroan Vakas, bit of a stuck up prick, even for an elf, and green on all accounts. He’s alright though, had my back enough times to earn my trust. He’s the kind of guy that keeps his badge polished and his morals just as shiny. I haven’t had the heart to tell him Ravensgate will grind that hope down eventually. But he’s sharp, and in this line of work, sharp can keep you alive. Most of the time.

Our latest case? Well it’s the kind that makes you wish you’d never left your apartment. Six bodies in as many weeks, each carved up and displayed like some fucked up art piece. And then there’s the runes, carved into each of the victims. Someone’s playing magician, performing rituals the likes of which this city ain’t seen in decades.

The papers are calling him the Ritualist. Vakas calls him a psychopath. I call him my next sleepless night. 

~ ~ ~

The scent hit us before we even turned the corner - coppery, sharp, with a sticky sweet undertone. It was the unmistakable stink of death, and in Ravensgate, that scent lingered like a bad memory.

We pulled up to the abandoned warehouse by the docks, the place was already crawling with uniforms. Their flashlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the thick sea fog light up as it continued to roll in. A sergeant I vaguely recognized waved us past the yellow warding spell that crackled faintly along the perimeter.

“Detectives,” he said grimly. “Another one. It’s bad.”

“Isn’t it always?” I muttered, stepping inside. 

The warehouse was the kind of place Ravensgate specialized in - abandoned long enough to rot but too sturdy to have the decency to collapse. The broken skylights let in enough moonlight to give the scene an almost ethereal glow, but the harsh electric lanterns the uniforms had set up made it worse. The body lay sprawled in the centre of the room.

A uniformed officer, a harpy, was kneeling by it, taking notes. She glanced up as we approached, her face pale and the slight avian features made it seem drawn out. “Same as the others,” she said. “Symbols all over. No sign of a struggle.”

I crouched by the body, taking it in as I lit up my pipe. A man, mid-thirties, arms spread wide, and bolted to the floor with iron rings. His chest was bare, skin carved up in those damn sigils we’d seen on the others. Blood pooled beneath him and was already seeping into the floorboards beneath. Whoever did this had taken his time. It was deliberate. Precise.

Vakas knelt beside me, his jaw tight. “Third this week. How does he keep getting away with this?”

“Carefully,” I said, my voice flat as I drew deep on the pipeweed. “But he’s getting bolder. Ramping up. Sooner or later he’s gonna mess up.” I traced my flashlight over one of the larger symbols etched on the man's chest.  It was different from the others - larger and more intricate.

“This one’s new,” I said. “Recognize it?”

The uniformed officer shook her head. “Not me. I can call in the magical consultant if you’d like?”

“Already here,” came a sharp familiar voice behind us.

I sighed involuntarily as I heard it, my head sinking slightly. I could hear Vakas chuckle under his breath as he stood up, patting me on the back. We turned to see Dr. Dyanna Moore strolling in like she owned the place, her long black coat trailing behind her and her rune-etched cane sparked blue as it clicked against the floor. She ignored the uniforms, headed straight for the body with the kind of confidence that made people nervous.

“Still wearing that ridiculous fuckin’ hat, I see?” I quipped, knocking the ash from the pipe onto my boot before standing up and motioning to the wide brimmed witch’s hat she held under one arm.

“Comes with the uniform. Still sporting that flea ridden beard, I see?” She hurled back without missing a beat. The broad was quick, I’ll give her that, always had been. But gods I hate wizards, something about them just makes my dwarven skin crawl.

Before I could say anything else Vakas butted in. “What are we looking at here Dr. Moore? Did you come up with anything from the others?”

“Well,” she said, crouching by the corpse. “I do have something for you boys.” She tilted her head, studying the symbols. Her grin faded as she ran a gloved finger over one of the markings. 

“I cross referenced a bunch of the runes on the previous victims with some older academic texts, I’m afraid this confirms my suspicions.” Her hand was hovering above the larger symbol.

“Save the commentary, just tell us what this bastard is trying to do? Or better yet, how we catch him.” I’ll admit, patience wasn’t my strong suit.

“We were right that they are performing some kind of ritual, but not just any. Whoever this is, they’re trying to summon something.”

Vakas visibly stiffened, looking up from his notepad. “Summoning what?”

Dr. Moore straightened, brushing her gloves and giving us a look that could have frozen the bay outside. “Something big. Old probably. Whatever it is, it sure as hell doesn’t belong here. If they’re allowed to finish what they’ve started, you’re not just looking at a few more bodies.”

The room fell silent, the hum of the warding spell outside the only sound. Eventually the silence was broken by a chime from Vakas’ sending rune. “Sorry, I need to take this.” he said heading back outside. 

“Guess I’ll cancel my weekend plans then. Alright Moore, what else have you got for me?” I continued.

Dr. Moore leaned on her cane, her gaze fixed on the body. “The symbols are part of a greater pattern,” she said. “Each of these markings pulls energy from specific ley lines under the city. You’ve seen summoning circles before, right?”

I nodded.

“Right, well think that, but the size of half the city. This ritualist isn’t just killing people - he’s anchoring something here.”

I flicked my pipe again. “How many more anchors does he need?”

Dr. Moore’s lips thinned. “Two. Maybe three? But it’s not just the number. Each body has been placed where the ley lines converge. If he completes the circle…”

“...Ravensgate becomes ground zero,” I finished. 

“Luckily for us, I think I’ve been able to pinpoint the next location. Southside,” she said, her voice low. “There’s a convergence point near Old Guild Street.”

“Southside? That's goblin town. It’s a damn maze, half the buildings there are abandoned.” Vakas said, stepping back through the door.

“Well we’d better start looking. Have we got an id on this guy?” I motioned to the body. 

“No name yet, but we found this. Business card for The Wincing Willow Tavern.” one of the uniforms responded, handing me the card.

“An elf bar? Hey Vakas, you frequent this joint, right?” I said, passing the card along. 

“Yeah, great wine. Why?”

“Why don’t you check it out kiddo. Take the car. I’ll finish up here then head Southside with Dr. Moore. You still drive Dr. Moore? Or you just bring a broom?” I smirked. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I had been thinking of that since the beard comment.

~ ~ ~

Southside at night was a different beast entirely. The narrow, deserted streets seemed to close in around us, hemmed in by sagging tenements. Faint, flickering lights from the windows cast uneven shadows, illuminating just enough to remind you how little you wanted to see.

Dr. Moore slowed the car to a crawl once we reached Guild Street. “We’re close,” she murmured, her fingers tapping on the steering wheel. “That sigil was connected to this place. Whoever they are, they’ll be here.”

I glanced out the rain spattered window, taking in the rows of abandoned storefronts and half-collapsed awnings. “Any idea where exactly? Guild stretches for blocks.” 

“I’ll know when I see it,” she said, her tone clipped.

We pulled up near an old apothecary, the building long abandoned, its windows boarded up. The air felt wrong as I stepped out, thicker, charged, like a storm building.

I lent against the car pulling out my pipe and lighting it. The smoke curled lazily in the damp air. Moore rolled down her window, the faint hum of the car’s engine the only sound between us for a moment.

“How are you getting on with your new partner?” she spoke through the open window. 

“Small talk, Dyanna?” I said, my eyes looking up and down the street.

“Forgive me for taking an interest in my ex-husbands life.” she snapped. 

I sighed out a chuckle, shaking my head.. “Yeah he’s fine. Bit fresh-faced, don’t think the kid’ll last, but we get on well enough.” 

Her fingers continued to drum against the steering wheel. “Ever mention a brother or sister?” 

The question caught me off guard. I took a slow drag on the pipe. “If he did, I wasn’t listening. You know me Dyanna - too busy for that stuff.”

Her laugh was humourless. “Oh, I’m aware.”

I sighed, turning to face her through the window. “Why’d you ask?” 

She shook her head, her dark eyes staring straight ahead. “Forget it.”

There it was again - that icy wall she always threw up. I should’ve been used to it by now, but somehow it still made me feel like a mutt caught chewing the furniture.

I was about to speak up before she held up a hand, cutting me off. “We don’t have time for this,” she said briskly, reaching for the door handle. “Let’s look around before we end up part of the Ritualist’s display.”

I crushed the last embers of my pipe under my boot and followed her lead. Her question about Vakas stuck with me. It wasn’t like her to ask about people without a reason. 

~ ~ ~

The apothecary loomed over us, its faded signage barely legible in the dim streetlight. Dyanna moved ahead, her cane held in both hands like it was a rifle, her gaze sweeping over the boarded-up windows and peeling façade. 

She paused at the entrance, running her fingers along the edge of the warped wooden door. “No fresh pry marks,” she muttered. “But it’s unlocked.”

I pulled my revolver, thumbing back the hammer as I gestured to the handle. “Ladies first?”

She shot me a glare but pushed the door open with a practiced sweep, stepping inside without a moment's hesitation.

The air inside was worse. Stale, metallic, with a faint coppery tang and undernotes of sulphur that made the hair on my arms stand up. Dust motes danced in the thin beams of light filtering through cracks in the boarded windows. Shelves lined the walls, still cluttered with dusty glass bottles. 

Dyanna knocked the end of her cane, the tip lit up like a lighthouse and she swept it across the room. “No sign of activity here. Whoever was here didn’t linger.” 

“Or they were just casing the joint for later.” I said stepping carefully, the floorboards creaking underfoot. “Feels like someone’s watching.”

“You always get like that around magic.”

“Still fuckin’ hate it.” I scoffed, moving further into the building. The further we went, the heavier the air became, the more wrong everything felt. 

It wasn’t until we reached the back room that things took a turn. Dyanna stopped abruptly, her cane tapping softly against the floor. “Do you hear that?” she asked.

I listened, straining my ears. At first, there was nothing, just the muffled drip of water from a leaky pipe somewhere. Then I heard it - faint, but unmistakable. A low hum, rhythmic and unsettling.

“Out back,” I said, already moving towards the door. We pushed through into the alley behind the apothecary. That’s when I saw it - parked just beyond the edge of the lot, hidden in the shadows. 

My car. The one I’d loaned Vakas. I moved quickly up to the driver side, my gun pointed at it as I opened the door.

Empty.

Dyanna joined me and her eyes scanned the interior. “Did Vakas report back?”

“No,” I said, my voice tight.

She looked at me, her expression unreadable. “Are you sure you know him as well as you think?”

I wanted to deny it, to argue, but I didn’t have the answers to back it up. My gut churned as I slammed the car door shut. The faint hum from before I thought had been the car engine started growing louder. It was coming from beneath the building. 

I glanced at Dyanna. “Cellar?”

She nodded grimly, pointing further down the alley towards what looked like the entrance to a storm shelter.

~ ~ ~

The hum grew louder as we descended into the cellar. Every step echoed in the narrow stairwell, the sound reverberating off the cold stone walls. The air was thicker here, oppressive, carrying that same metallic tang that set my teeth on edge. 

At the centre of the room stood Vakas. His usual clean-cut demeanour was gone - his silvery hair dishevelled. Beside him was a woman, her pale skin almost translucent under the harsh light. Her features were sharp, similar to Vakas’ but her eyes burned with a cold fire that made the hairs on my neck stand up.

“Detective,” Vakas started, his voice strained. He didn’t reach for his weapon, but his hand hovered near it. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Funny.” I said, keeping my gun trained on them. “I could say the same about you.”

The woman stepped forward, her movements fluid, almost unnatural. She was barefoot, her thin black dress brushing the floor as she moved. “Detective Graypike and the witch” she said, her voice like silk wrapped around mithril. “You’ve been quite the nuisance.”

“And you’ve been busy,” I said, glancing at the runes covering the floor. They pulsed faintly, the lines seemed to shift and writhe under the light. “Care to explain what all this is? Or should I just shoot you both and call it a day?”

Vakas flinched, his hand clenched. “It’s not what you think. She’s-”

“I’m saving this city,” the woman interrupted. “From itself.”

Dyanna snorted. “Spare the martyr act. You’re a killer, plain and simple.”

The woman’s cold gaze shifted to Dyanna. “You call it killing. I call it justice. This place is sick, I’m just administering the cure.”

“Save the speech,” I snapped, stepping closer, my gun trained on her. 

Vakas moved, stepping between me and the woman. “I can’t let you do that Calder. My sister is just trying to protect this city.”

“By murdering them?” Dyanna snapped. “Spare us the family drama.”

“It’s not murder!” Vakas shouted, his voice raw. “The people she chooses. They were already criminals in our system.”

“What are you talking about? None of the vic’s were on-” I stopped myself, the realization piling over me. “You deleted the records. You’ve been in on this the whole time?” I laughed. “That's what I get for trusting a fuckin, elf! Alright both of you, hands up.”

“Times up detective.” The woman taunted, her hands glowing brighter as she raised them.

Before she could say more, Dyanna moved, raising her cane. A sharp incantation tore through the air, and a blinding bolt of light shot from her cane, slamming into the runes. The room exploded in chaos - stone cracked, the glow shattering into shards of energy as the hum became a deafening roar. 

Vakas lunged towards me, his fist colliding with my jaw. I staggered back, barely keeping my grip on the gun. “Don’t do this Calder! She’s trying to save us.”

He reared up, reaching for his gun. 

“I’m sorry Vakas!” I shouted and squeezed the trigger.

The gunshot cracked like thunder, over the din of magic. Vakas staggered, clutching his side as he fell to his knees. 

The sister screamed wildly, her concentration breaking for a second as she reached towards her brother. 

Dyanna seized the moment, her cane blazing with a final surge of light. She slammed it into the centre of the runes, their energy surging outward before being sucked back into themselves with a deafening crack.

“It’s over,” I said, my voice hollow.

The sister glared up at me, her eyes blazing. “You don’t understand what you’ve done. This city will rot without me,” she hissed. 

“Maybe, but that's not for you to decide. We’ll take them in.” Dyanna said, limping to my side.

As we cuffed them and hauled Vakas to his feet, his eyes met mine, glassy with pain and regret. “You’ll understand when it's too late,” he muttered.

I didn’t answer. There was nothing left to say.

We left the ruined cellar behind, the rain pouring down as we loaded the siblings into the waiting squad car. 

Dyanna sat on the curb next to me as we watched the car pull away.

Ravensgate wasn’t saved, not tonight - but it wasn’t lost either. And in this city, that's about as close as you get to a win.