Moonlight Saga

k, the young woman's lifeless body, the feather. Olivia hadn't slept, and she doubted Tom had either. There was no time for rest when a killer was on the loose. "Alright, let's get to it," Oliv

had worked, a cozy place nestled between a bookstore and a thrift shop. The staff were still in shock, their eyes red from crying as they recounted the last time they'd seen Emily. "She didn't seem scared or anything," one of her coworkers, a young man with tattoos and a nose ring, told Olivia. "But she did mention something weird last week. Said she thought someone was following her." "Did she say who?" Olivia pressed. He shook his head. "No, she just kinda laughed it off, said it was probably nothing. I wish I'd pushed her more on it." Olivia made a note of it, her mind racing. If Emily had been followed, then the killer might have been watching her for some time. She needed to find out if anyone else in the community had noticed an

d beyond recognition, her clothes torn. The brutality of the attack was staggering, and it sent shockwaves through the community. "Goddamn it," Tom muttered as he surveyed the scene. "This one's even worse than the last." Olivia felt a knot in her stomach as she examined the body. The killer had left another feather, this time placed delicately in Kayla's hand. It was a taunt, a message that they were just getting started. "We need to find the connection between these victims," Olivia said, her voice tight with frustration. "There has to be somet

ragging their feet because we're queer," another voice chimed in. "They don't see us as worth saving." Lisa, the activist who had spoken with Tom earlier, was at the center of the movement. She was relentless, pushing the police to do more, organizing protests, demanding action. But with each passing day and no arrest in sight, the tension between the community and the authorities grew. Riley Carter, the journalist who had been covering the case, saw the strain firsthand. They attended the meetin

es. The murders had never been solved, the killer never caught. Riley's heart raced as they pieced it together. This wasn't just a local tragedy-it was part of a larger pattern, a string of killings that had been going on for years. The killer was moving from city to city, targeting the same type of victims, and leaving behind the same calling card. They knew they had to take this to the police, but Riley also knew they couldn't trust that the information would be acted on quickly enough. They had to keep digging,

~

it. The message was short, but it was enough to send a chill down their spine: *"Stop looking, or you'll be next."* At the bottom of the page was a small white feather, taped to the paper. Ri