The board in-front of her was as bare as the pages in her notebook, she had no suspects, no motives nor evidence. Her head was blank, a void as she paced up and down the room playing with the hem of her dress. Why was nothing coming to mind? She was the only one actually interested in solving the case, or maybe she wasn't, the boy trying to get information out of Isaac certainly was, maybe Daisuke was too, maybe he just didn't want her getting involved. Why had she thought this would be easy? She knew deep down that with her lack of experience she had no way of finding anything out about the murderer nor the 5th nation she desired. Perhaps she could just ask for help, but what if she asks the murderer? These thoughts rushed through her head like a train running in circles, her logic was struggling desperately. Then it clicked.

She tore the pages from her notebook and pinned them to the board, she'd been writing the details about the murder, but what about the people? Firstly, she wrote the names of the known victims, sticking them in separate corners and realising she needed to get their pictures. She pinned the description of the killer (supplied by Isaac) in the centre, and the names of everyone she'd met so far in a row across the bottom. After scribbling, sticking and pinning for what seemed like an eternity, she stood back and observed with a new sense of accomplishment. Everything was important, that was what she'd missed.

Elora looked at the long to-do list, her first course of action was to break into the Springvale archives, she knew the records on citizens were kept in the same place within each nation, the bank. The Springvale bank would be heavily guarded no doubt with spells, luckily identifying types of magic was Elora's forte so that wouldn't be a problem, the problem would be the guards themselves. The watcher's dance, that she now had the defensive plan for, would be the perfect time to break in. More guards at the palace meant less guards at bank in her mind. This would also assist plan bate to lure the murderer in. Taking Isaac out of the dance with her would be the perfect opportunity for the murderer to silence their witness. Maybe she could convince Isaac to help her break in, but first she needed to get hold of a sword.

It seemed this plan was more complicated than she'd originally thought, though she wasn't investigating purely for the fun of it, this was revenge.

The room had a balcony, small but big enough to enjoy, leaning against the stone guardrail, she watched the birds in the distance. Silhouettes in the trees, settling against the post-sunset blue of the sky. The night was approaching, danger lurking though they in one way had it easier, they had each other to nestle up to and stay warm, she was alone. The cold night would seep in through the cracks in the window and surround her with no one to help, she was her own friend and she had been for most of her life.

She fell lost in thought and sank to the floor, she sat with her knees to her chest, hugging them as though they themselves were her friend. If only she could see her again, little Merle. Strangely, it felt sinful to remember the face of her younger sister whom she'd tried so hard to forget.

Clang! Something sounded below, breaking her from her daydream as she leapt up. "Hello?" She spoke aloud into the newly formed darkness, no answer. Alarmed, she swung herself onto the guardrail and looked down. Something glinted in the darkness, like only a fraction of moonlight had reached its shiny surface.

Holding her hand outwards, she faced her palm towards the stars, and used the only resource available. A tiny ball of white light beamed in the centre of her palm, growing in size until she was content. Holding it over the edge, she looked into the shadows with little success. The light fell slowly, drifting like a feather until it illuminated the ground below, her heart stopped.
"There's no way." She froze in disbelief. Impossible, completely impossible. There, laying in the grass, was her confiscated sword.

The next morning she awoke with a purpose, today needed to be productive, tomorrow her plan would take place. The dress she wore was one of her favourites, the bodice was tight but the sleeves off the shoulder and flowy, on a whole it was white with chiffon flowers sewn into the hem. The perks of her past wealth were beginning to pay off. The sword however stayed firmly locked in a wardrobe, whoever delivered it must've been involved with the inter-realm government, involvement with them would be a grave mistake. This however didn't stop her admiring the fine piece of equipment.

It had been forged in the style of a longsword though the grip had been custom made generations ago by people like herself; hand-carved silver in the shape of little feathers, these grew leading the guard look like an intricate pair of silver angel wings. A line scratched into the blade itself read 'Perditor tenebrarum' or 'destroyer of darkness'.

It had been confiscated by the government when she supposedly killed her family and she was thrilled to have it back in her own hands, perhaps it filled a little bit of the emptiness.

The trees were full of fey and people alike, the preparations for the dance had begun, only one night left, the stores were overcrowded by eager shoppers, the perfect time for an investigation. Through the hoards of shouting people lingered the a sense of suspicion. They were almost avoiding each other, a nation completely divided by citizens who distrusted each other, tragic. She picked up a basket, hoping to fit into the crowds.

The morning was bright and clear with the occasional gust of a cold wind to keep everyone on their toes. Elora was trying to admire the weather over the screaming oblivion behind her when she braced herself and approached the mass of people.

Pushing was an understatement. Being an outsider in a nation plagued by a serial killer seemed to make her the target of dirty looks and over exaggerated shoulder barging. Listening to conversations was near to impossible. She had begun to give up when she noticed a familiar face in the crowds, "Isaac!" He turned quickly, his uncomfortable face lighting up.

"Elora, thank god you're here." He let out a sigh of relief as he pushed through the crowd towards her. His gold-rimmed specs were falling down his nose.
"It's insane! You told me I needed to find a way to get to the dance, so I asked my mother to be my 'date' and came out to find a suit."

Elora giggled to herself, "That's so sweet to ask your mother."

"More like embarrassing." He pushed the specs back up and blew the dark hair from his eyes. "Thee crowds are making me feel nauseous."

"I can imagine, let's go into that shop there, maybe they'll have somewhere to sit."

All eyes fell on the outsider girl dragging the petrified fey boy through the multitude, an unlikely sight to say the least.
"He's the murderer! I tell you!"
The two whipped around and exchanged glances, the voice came from behind them.