11:04 AM, 24th of December, 1728

  Standing in front of the tall white door, the wind rushed through the air, crawling down his back and sending shivers down his spine.

  He waited for over a minute with no response. As he was turning to leave, he realized the door was about to be opened.

  Standing in the doorway was an old man, his hair white, his skin wrinkled, and his eyes sunken, yet in those eyes a deep hatred shone as he looked on at Alexander.

  He spoke, his voice grating as he did, “What do you need?”

  Alexander stepped forward, obviously apprehensive. “I was here to talk to you about the job offer you put up. The one on the murder of your wife?”

  The old man’s demeanor changed in an instant, his eyes seeming to soften at the mention of his wife.

  “Forgive me, please, come in.”

  He stepped to the side, letting Alexander pass by him, continuing as he did.

  “Take a seat in the dining room to your left. Would you like some tea?”

  The interior of the house was just as run-down as the outside, the breeze making its way through despite the walls designed to keep it out. The dining room was large, twelve chairs sat at a grand table, though all but two were covered in a thin film of dust.

  Not wanting to dirty his clothes, he settled on not sitting, simply standing in wait as he listened to the old man making noise in the kitchen just past the wall.

  The kettle started whistling, the ringing echoing inside Alexander's head, indicating that the man would be done in only a moment's time.

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  He entered the dining room, a cup of tea in each hand and a smile on his face. His demeanor was the polar opposite of what it had been only a few minutes earlier.

  “Sorry, I know it’s rather dirty in here. I’m Ron, by the way.”

  He made his way to the cleaner of the two non-dusty chairs, setting tea down in front of Alexander on the way, his bones creaking and his breath held as he sat.

  “I’m Alexander. Before we start, there was one thing bugging me.”

  “Oh, yes? Do tell.”

  “Why can’t you simply ask the Book of Truth who killed your wife? And if not you, why can’t someone with a high position in the government do it?”

  He let out a small laugh, which quickly broke out into a coughing fit that lasted nearly a minute.

  “I don’t know where you’re from, but that’s not how that works. That book is only used for trials, nothing else. Don’t ask me why, I think it’s a little ridiculous, to be honest. I’ve heard on very rare occasions they will let someone ask it as a reward, usually held for the highest achieving scholars, but I am far too old for that to be a possibility for me.”

  Although Claudia had previously told Alexander something similar, he hadn’t realized to what extent they refused to use the book. It was almost like they were scared of it.

  “I see.” He took a sip of his tea, the flavor exquisite and the temperature perfect, making him feel almost instantly refreshed. He didn’t continue talking, as Ron seemed to have more to say.

  “Even if I were some prestigious scholar, they wouldn’t let me use that wretched book anyway.”

  “Why wouldn’t they?”

  “I don’t follow their terrible god. My wife and I - we followed the Goddess of Life as long as I can remember. I don’t think she’s really dead, you know. How could the Goddess of Life go and die?”

  Alexander felt like they had gone off track from the reason for his visit, but couldn’t bring himself to change the conversation topic, the information being far too interesting.

  Deciding he wanted to hear more, he probed, “What makes you call the God of Truth a terrible god?”

  “Ah, it was far before your time. I hadn’t moved here, of course, or else I’d be dead along with everyone else. Haven’t you ever wondered why everything here is made up of the same white stone? When he went and died, however it happened, he took the entire city with him. Everyone and everything turned into the same thing, all sculptures of their past selves. Everything was blanched.”

  Ron finished his cup of tea, set it down, and continued.

  “Sorry, I’ve got a bit off track here. You want to take the job, right? I can tell you everything I know, but it isn’t much.”

  “I'm listening.”

  His head went down as he began reciting the story, no wavering in his voice as if he had told it time and time before already.

  “I was out on my usual morning walk, but when I arrived home, she was nowhere to be found. She’d been down with a cold for a few weeks, so she wouldn’t have left the house. I waited for hours, wondering where she was, so long, in fact, that I had gotten tired and decided to head up to our room for a nap.”

  His breaths were coming out raspy and heavy.

  “When I lay down in our bed, I felt something poke me, and when I checked what it was, I realized what had happened.”

  He paused, looking up at Alexander’s blindfolded face.

  “It was her Remnant.”

  He outstretched his hand, palm up, displaying a pendant adorned with gold, centered by a small gem.

  “They killed her in your own bed?”

  He nodded slowly.

  “So why did they think it was you? How were you framed?”

  “My neighbor, Maggie, was sitting on her porch the entire time I was out, she said no one ever entered the house. It makes sense that I was the only suspect. But I know someone killed her. She was in the third stage, a simple cold wouldn’t do her in, even if we are old and withered.”