It had been that way since she was a child, the first time she saw a man lie and watched the thin red thread connect his words to the truth buried deep inside him. Her fingers tightened around the cigarette. That moment had defined her entire life. Tonight, though, it wasn't the lies of strangers that disturbed her. It was the absence of any threads at all. The alley was empty now, as if the weight of the world had lifted, leaving a silence too sharp to be natural. She flicked the cigarette to the ground and ground it under her boot. Another case. Another mystery. The woman sitting across from her on the other side of the small, dim-lit table was in her seventies, her hands trembling as they clutched a leather-bound journal. Deep-set wrinkles lined her face, and the weight of her sorrow hung around her like a dark fog. Her name was **Marta Rook**, and the words she had spoken moments ago still echoed in Sienna's mind. "My daughter, Lena... she's missing." Sienna exhaled slowly, leaning back in her chair. Missing persons were nothing new to her, but there was something off about this case. Lena's photo-an old Polaroid Marta had handed her-stared back from the table. A young woman with sharp eyes and an air of restless intelligence. Not someone who would simply vanish without a trace. "How long has she been gone?" Sienna asked, her voice steady, but her instincts on high alert. Something about the photograph sent a chill crawling up her spine. She glanced at the edges of the picture, noting a faint, frayed thread wrapped around it. Barely visible, but there. "Two months. I've tried the police, but they say she's an adult. She can leave if she wants. But I know better. She wouldn't leave me. Not like this." Marta's voice cracked, and she wiped her eyes with a shaking hand. "You... you're my last hope. They say you find the ones who can't be found." Sienna remained silent for a moment, letting the weight of those words settle between them. Marta wasn't wrong. Sienna had a reputation for finding the impossible. And yet, something gnawed at her gut. "I don't take cases that feel... wrong," Sienna said carefully, watching Marta's reaction. "This doesn't feel like a regular disappearance." Marta's hands shook as she passed the journal across the table. "It isn't. This was her journal. She was looking into something. Something dark." Sienna hesitated before taking the worn leather book, her fingers brushing against it lightly. She didn't need to open it to know it would lead her down a path she'd rather avoid. Her gift told her so, the faint ripple in the air around the journal hinting at something unseen. Shadows flickered in the corners of her vision, though they vanished as quickly as they came. "She was researching a group," Marta continued, her voice thin and strained. "An occult society. I didn't know what she'd gotten herself into until it was too late. And now... now she's gone. But I can feel it, Miss Cross. Something terrible is coming. It's already begun." Sienna stared at the journal, her mind racing. Occult societies. Missing daughters. It was the kind of thing that most people dismissed as nonsense, but Sienna knew better. The world was full of shadows that no one else could see. She sighed, slipping the journal into her coat. "I'll look into it," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "But I need you to understand something. If I find out she's gone willingly, that she's in over her head by choice, there's nothing I can do. I'm not here to save anyone from themselves." Marta's eyes welled with tears, but she nodded. "Just find her. Please." Sienna stood, pulling her coat tighter around herself. "I'll do what I can." As she left the diner, the cold night air wrapped around her like a shroud. The city streets seemed darker than usual, the shadows longer, heavier. And in the back of her mind, a thread tugged at her consciousness, pulling her toward something she couldn't yet name. Something was coming. And whatever it was, it was already inside her world, twisting everything around it. She just didn't know how deep the darkness ran. The night swallowed her whole as Sienna stepped out of the diner, the cold biting at her skin. She pulled her coat tighter, her boots clicking against the damp pavement as she made her way through the quiet streets. The city was never fully silent, but tonight, it felt like the noise had been sucked into some unseen void. Her mind lingered on the old woman's words, but it was the journal tucked inside her coat that weighed heavily on her. Occult societies, missing daughters, dark secrets... It was the kind of thing that usually meant trouble. And Sienna had seen enough trouble to know it rarely came alone. The threads around her felt different tonight, too. As she passed people on the street, their threads seemed thinner, like they were fading. Normally, the strands connecting people to their actions were vivid-pulsing with energy. Tonight, though, everything felt muted, as if reality itself was retreating into the shadows. Sienna stopped at a street corner, her eyes drawn to the old, decaying mansion at the end of the block. It loomed over the other buildings like a specter, its windows dark and hollow. A shiver ran down her spine. It was the kind of place where nightmares lived, where things went to die. She hesitated for a moment, then headed toward it. The mansion had been abandoned for years, but rumors still swirled about it-whispers of strange occurrences, of people going missing. Now, it seemed, it was connected to Lena. As she approached, the air seemed to grow colder. The shadows here were thick, unnatural. Sienna stood at the wrought-iron gate, staring up at the towering structure. Something about the place felt wrong-like it was breathing, waiting. The threads around the mansion were barely visible, as if they had been severed long ago. She slipped through the gate, her heartbeat quickening as she approached the front door. The wood was rotting, and the paint had long since peeled away, but the door creaked open with an eerie ease. As she stepped inside, the smell of dust and decay hit her like a wall. The foyer was massive, with a grand staircase leading to the second floor. Broken mirrors lined the walls, and the floorboards creaked under her feet. Shadows seemed to dance at the edges of her vision, shifting with every step. She reached into her coat, pulling out Lena's journal. Flipping through the pages, she found frantic scrawls, notes about strange rituals, symbols, and something called "The Thread of Shadows." Her eyes narrowed as she read, her mind trying to make sense of the cryptic writings. But one passage stood out: *"The mansion... it's a focal point. I can feel it. Something lives here, something ancient. The Thread... it's connected to this place. It's already inside. I'm not safe. Not anymore."* Sienna's grip on the journal tightened as the words sank in. Lena had been here-she was sure of it now. But the question was why. What had she been looking for? And more importantly, had she found it? She turned her attention to the room around her, her eyes scanning for any sign of Lena's presence. But it was hard to focus. The air felt thick, like it was pressing down on her chest, making it harder to breathe. Suddenly, a soft sound echoed through the house. A whisper, barely audible, like someone was speaking just beyond her reach. Sienna froze, her senses sharpening. The shadows at the edges of the room seemed to ripple, moving in ways they shouldn't. Her hand instinctively went to the knife strapped to her thigh, her fingers curling around the handle. She took a step forward, her eyes narrowing as she tried to pinpoint the source of the sound. Another whisper. This time, it was closer. Her pulse quickened, adrenaline coursing through her veins. She had faced danger before-gangsters, murderers, even the occasional psychopath-but this was different. This was something she couldn't explain, something beyond the scope of human understanding. And yet, she pressed on. Because if Lena had faced this, then Sienna had to as well. The whispers grew louder, more insistent. They seemed to come from all around her, as if the walls themselves were speaking. Her mind raced as she tried to make sense of the words, but they were fragmented, incoherent. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw it. A shadow. But not just any shadow-this one was different. It moved independently, sliding along the wall as if it had a life of its own. Sienna's breath caught in her throat as she watched it slither toward her, growing larger with every second. Her fingers tightened around the knife. The shadow stopped just a few feet away, its form flickering in and out of existence like a faulty projection. Sienna's heart pounded in her chest, her instincts screaming at her to run. But she stood her ground, her eyes locked on the shifting figure. "Who's there?" she called out, her voice steady despite the fear crawling up her spine. No answer. Only the sound of the whispering shadows, circling her like vultures. Then, with a sudden burst of movement, the shadow lunged toward her. Sienna reacted instinctively, swinging the knife through the air. But the blade passed through the shadow as if it were made of smoke. The shadow rippled, shifting around her, and for a brief moment, it seemed to wrap itself around her body, cold and suffocating. Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the shadow vanished. Sienna staggered back, gasping for air. Her heart was racing, her mind spinning. Whatever that thing was, it wasn't natural. It wasn't human. She needed answers. And fast. With a shaky breath, she looked down at the journal in her hand. Lena had been searching for something in this house-something dark, something dangerous. And now, Sienna was caught in the middle of it. But she wasn't about to back down. Not now. Not when the shadows had already started to creep in.