"What is your name?"

"Why were you out tonight?"

"Where did you get this weapon?"

Despite his father's efforts to set him free, Erik still landed in the guards' prison. The guard who had captured him didn't believe that Erik's sword was too big to cause the knife wound on the body, that Erik was just out to check on his father, or that Erik's uncle was the head guard. Erik sighed and slumped against the cell's stone wall. His eyes hurt from being awake so late into the night.

A rat scurried past his feet.

Today, or tonight rather, just wasn't his day. First getting run over by one of his father's enemies, then getting arrested for being a murderer when he was walking home with his father.

A drop of water splashed on Erik's face.

This was his parent's worst fear come true. They always went on and on about how having the sword was dangerous, how Erik and Chris needed to be careful when they went outside. Now one of their sons was in jail because of that very sword.

Erik's shackled clanged together as he adjusted his body.

No, it wasn't the sword. He and his brother walked down the street without staring eyes before The Ripper. His parents weren't afraid before The Ripper. His hometown Meryl wasn't afraid before The Ripper. Everything had been fine before The Ripper. This was The Ripper's fault. The murderer using weapons from Erik's mother's home country. The murderer slashing lives apart and causing unrest.

Who was next? Erik had been arrested. What about his father? Mother? What would happen to Chris, the little kid, too little to understand why the town was getting more hostile to his family?

Erik rested his head on his knees. If The Ripper were stopped, this nightmare would end.

Unfortunately, Erik could not do anything while he was stuck in this cell. The thing was like a box with only two small openings, the small window at the top of the stone walls and the opening on the door. Everything was dark, as if Erik were sitting in a cage made of shadows. He was stuck in a cage with no way out because the guard couldn't see that the wound on the body lying in the street was smaller than any stabs his sword could make. The man's shirt was stabbed straight through. The incisions were half the size of his sword.

The man was the eleventh victim.

The Ripper had to be stopped.

With that one thought in his mind, Erik drifted off. The next morning, he woke to the sound of the door opening. Erik sat up and rubbed the gravel off his cheek. He could feel the indents the rocks left on his chin. His eyes squinted from the bright sunlight pouring in from the small window.

"I'm sorry about that, Erik," Erik's uncle said. Well, uncle in name. Erik still wasn't sure if they were related or not.

"I'm being let go?" Erik asked. He held up his arms for the shackles to be removed.

"The guard who caught you didn't know who you were," Erik's uncle said. "I gave him a stern talking to, but you had better not wander around the streets at night again. The Ripper is out again. You're young, and you have a good life to live."

Erik just nodded.

After giving Erik back his sword, Erik's uncle walked him outside, where everything was quiet, but not like the eerie silence from the night before. It was the quiet hum of life and brightness that belonged to the day.

The two stood awkwardly outside for a few moments. Erik's uncle cleared his throat.

"You can go now. You know your way home?"

"Yes," Erik said without walking away. He took a moment to gather his thoughts. "Actually, I have a favor to ask of you."

"Alright, go on."

"I want to work with the guards to find The Ripper."

Erik's uncle smiled, which encouraged Erik--that is until his uncle started laughing.

"I appreciate the sentiment," his uncle said, "but it's dangerous. Your father wouldn't want you to be out and about with The Ripper."

"But I can fight," Erik said. He grasped his sword's hilt for effect. "I know how to fight."

"I know," Erik's uncle said. "You're splendid at using that sword of yours, but your father would bring curses on guards if I let you join our investigation. Now go on your way."

With that, Erik's uncle went back inside the prison building. Erik absentmindedly gazed at the prison door. He had a feeling that if his uncle wasn't the chief of the guards, he'd still be stuck in a cell.

Erik's father hadn't come to fetch him, so Erik assumed he was busy at the guild again. The band from the Decapolis was supposed to be coming this week. His uncle hadn't left any message, so Erik probably didn't have to go to the guild today. Chris was sick, so the little kid and their mother were probably at home. Jean, well, he probably didn't know where Erik was at all.

Today, no one needed him, which meant he was free for the day.

After stopping by his home to check in on Chris and his mother, who was understandably upset that Erik got himself arrested, Erik was released, yet again, to do as he wanted for the day.

He headed straight for the scene of the last murder.

The small plaza was not nearly as terrifying in the day as it was at night. In the light, all the shadows were gone, and everything was in plain sight. A small gray cat dozed in the sunlight. The lovely, lovely flies around that house's . . . garbage buzzed. And that house's garbage. And that one's too. Well, it was by no means beautiful, but at least Erik could see if anything or anyone decided to attack him.

Two guards stood outside the building where Erik had seen the body the night before when the guard dragged him to prison. Erik slipped between the narrow gap between two houses to hide from them. He watched as the guards examined the walls and the dirt. They left when another guard, followed by a woman, exited the house.

That lady was the wife of one of the merchants of a rivaling guild. The man who died was not her husband, who had been bedridden since winter. Was she a witness?

Erik tried to remember what the victim looked like. He didn't recognize the man, but other than that he couldn't recall any facial features. Nothing stood out to him besides the wounds on his chest. Also, it was dark and hard to see.

The attack didn't seem random. No one usually used these roads unless they lived in the area. The only reason Erik was traveling through the small plaza the night before was because it was a shortcut to his father's guild. In other words, it wouldn't be a good place to hunt for random victims wandering the street.

Of course, the victim could have just been a victim of chance that The Ripper stumbled upon while walking home. Erik didn't even know if the man was killed here. He wouldn't know anything without the identity of the victim.

Erik noticed an old lady exiting her home and ran up to her.

"Excuse me, ma'am." Erik bowed his head with his hand over his heart. "Do you know why the guards were here? Did something happen?"

The old lady shook her head and walked away.

The next three people Erik chased down and asked didn't know anything either.

Erik sighed. Maybe he would have better luck if he searched for clues instead. Aside from a few blood stains, Erik didn't find anything notable from where the body was. Erik looked up and locked eyes with a girl in the neighboring house. He gave an awkward smile. The girl then screamed.

Not knowing what else to do, Erik squeezed himself between the houses. The opening was a lot narrower than the other gap he hid in. A door opened and shut, someone stepped outside, then the door opened and shut again. Erik waited for a while longer to make sure whoever stepped outside was gone.

Something red on the wall opposite to him caught Erik's eye. It blended in with the dirt and waste splattered on the wall. A small splotch, just off color enough for him to notice it. It almost looked like part of a handprint, the small finger. Erik stepped carefully through the patches of muck. More red splotches appeared on the wall, each fainter than the last. He found that at the end of the gap was just a larger alleyway with rain barrels.

The guards were everywhere during the night. The Ripper would have been covered in blood after he did the deed.

Erik checked each and every rain barrel until he found one with a faint red tint on the rim and a blood stained handkerchief buried in the dirt behind it. The handkerchief was just a piece of cloth with no discernible markings.

Well, even if he didn't find anything, Erik couldn't leave the water like that. The tint was hard to see, and someone could drink it on accident. If he tried to warn them, he'd call an awful lot of attention to himself for noticing the tiny bloodstains. Still, Erik had to do something.

His eyes landed on the waste in the alleyway.

Two semi-dirty hands and one absolutely rancid rain barrel later, Erik continued his investigation. The house had three rainbarrels so Erik didn't feel too bad wrecking one barrel. It was better than them drinking bloody water. He doubted anyone saw him do the deed either since the alleyway was made of the houses' backsides--no windows, only backdoors. The houses cast shadows over the whole alleyway besides the slivers of light from the gaps between the houses.

Erik washed off most of the muck in the dirty water and shook his hands to dry them. It was odd. There was the handkerchief, so The Ripper must have washed himself off, but unless he was stabbing people naked, blood would be on his clothes too. He probably took the bloody clothes then, but why leave the handkerchief? It wasn't an oversight since it was buried in the dirt.

Erik stared at the rain barrel again. He tapped the hilt of his sword. One power of all the Imperis was physical enhancement. In order to activate the power, he had to be touching his sword, but he couldn't hold his sword if he was picking up the barrel.

Erik tried lifting the barrel without the Imperis's help. No luck.

"Erik, you here?"

Erik jumped away from the barrel and turned towards the shout. That was Jean. He was close. Erik ran the narrow gap with the bloodtrail and saw Jean walk by. Erik groaned inwardly. His best friend knew him too well.

It was then Erik realized the sun had started setting.

Not wanting to travel through the muck again, Erik sprinted down the alleyway, into the plaza, and back to the scene of the crime to intercept Jean before he left.

"I'm here," Erik panted. His injuries, though mostly healed, from the day left him winded. "I'm here."

Jean half-smiled. "Your mother and little brother are waiting for you, They were worried since you were gone so long."

"I decided to do a little investigating," Erik said sheepishly.

Jean chuckled. "I can see that. I figured you'd be here. Everyone coming into the bakery's been talking about the new murder. And after your dad came in and mentioned you got arrested--"

"Agh, are people talking about that too?"

"No, no, he just told my dad, who told me," Jean said. "The two had some nice conversation while he bought some bread. But Erik, you gotta stop running about on your own, at least not while you're injured."

Erik waved his hand in the air. "I'm fine. I brought my sword, and I can fight. Besides," Erik said, "I found something."

Jean smiled. "Do tell."

Erik guided Jean to the rain barrel through another route other than the mucky alleyway.

Jean pinched his nose. "It smells awful." He stepped closer to Erik. "You smell awful too."

"I know, I know," Erik said. "But I think there's something under the barrel. I can't lift it though."

"So you decided to dig in the trash?"

"No, just help me lift the barrel and you'll see," Erik said.

Jean shrugged but helped Erik lift the barrel. Since nothing was under the barrel, they tried the next one. There they were, the bloody clothes just like Erik thought. Jean kneeled down and picked up the white shirt, which was now splotched with red and dirt.

"You have some good tracking skills," Jean said.

"Thanks," Erik said. He took the shirt from Jean and examined it. "There doesn't seem to be anything the guards could use to find The Ripper though . . ."

As Erik said those words, his eyes caught sight of a small burn mark on the cuff of the sleeve. It was a seemingly normal burn, could've happened to anyone type of burn. But Erik had seen that burn before. Somewhere. The shirt was missing a button near the collar as well.

"We should hand this over to the guards," Erik said. He brushed the dust off on his pants.

Jean nodded and grabbed the rest of the things under the barrel, which were just a pair of gloves. Erik walked ahead and tried to remember where he had seen the burn marks before. They were so familiar, but he just couldn't remember why.

"Erik. Erik. Erik!"

Erik looked up, startled from his daze. "What?"

"You stopped walking."

"Sorry," Erik said. "Just a lot on my mind."

Jean sighed. "Do you want to go back to the murder scene again?"

Erik smiled sheepishly. "I just want to check over things again."

Once back at the murder scene, Erik bent down and examined the ground for something he had missed before. Nothing but occasional blood splatters or broken twigs. Try as he might, Erik couldn't find anything that would lead him to The Ripper. Erik wiped his forehead. His wounds were making him feel more lightheaded than usual.

"Erik, I think it's time to go home. You're still injured," Jean said.

Erik, still on the ground, replied, "I'm fine. We still have to turn in the evidence anyway."

"I can do it. You need to get home. Your arms are shaking."

"I'm fine," Erik said again. Then he stopped searching.

He remembered where he had seen those burns before. He'd seen that shirt before. If he was right, the button near the top was gone because this person didn't like collars. If he was right, the burn marks came from his trade.

Erik slowly stood up and caught sight of something metallic on Jean's belt. It wasn't a sword.

It was a knife. And Erik was sure he saw a lightning bolt.

Jean never liked his collars too tight when he worked in the hot bakery. He burned the cuffs of his sleeves all the time when he was grabbing fresh loaves out of the oven for Erik and his family. Jean was the one who helped Erik clean up after fights and falls. Jean was the one who helped Erik take care of his little brother. Jean was Erik's best friend, the best person he had ever known, the first friend he made after moving to Meryl.

Erik didn't want to believe it.

"Jean, why do you have a knife--"

Before Erik could react, Jean lunged forward with the knife, held it up to Erik's temple, and activated its power. Erik could feel the lightning bolt etch into his skin as he lost consciousness. All of the victims who had their memories stolen by The Ripper had a lightning bolt near their temple . . .

"I'm sorry I have to do this again," Jean whispered.