Chapter 4: Unorthodox Interrogation Technique

As Farah and Adam approached the gated entrance, the air around Denavolt's estate was still unnatural. The iron gate opened with a low groan that echoed quietly in the street. The early morning fog hung low, shrouding the mansion in an eerie mist. There was a heaviness to the atmosphere, as if the house held its breath, waiting for what would come next.

After finding out about Farah's ability, Yahya asked her if she could use it to interrogate the soul of Denavolt. Farah explains that her ability works differently than others who claim to be psychic. She cannot communicate nor get possessed with a person's soul. She has done a lot of experiments with her power and find out that she can communicate with different kinds of entities instead.

Though confused, Yahya tasked her to interrogate the entity that may have witnessed the event that lead to Denaolt" 's death. 

Farah stopped just outside the door, her hand resting lightly on the stone wall. Her youthful features, always marked with determination, grew distant. Her dark, expressive eyes unfocused. Adam, standing nearby, seemed almost relaxed, his friendly demeanour masking the sharp attentiveness of someone who saw what others missed.

"You feel anything?" Adam asked his tone light but edged with curiosity.

Farah closed her eyes, focusing. "Something is here... a residue of what happened." She moved her hand slowly across the stone as if brushing against invisible threads in the air. "There are a lot of entities her but most of them seem like the are not from here more like they are curious of what happen here"

Her eyes suddenly snapped open, and her body went rigid. A low, guttural growl escaped her lips as her eyes rolled back, leaving only the whites visible.

Adam, unfazed, stepped back slightly, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Well, that didn't take long."

Farah's voice, now deeper and raspier, came out in disjointed whispers. "They... called to the dark... Sorn... He comes for more."

Adam crouched slightly, his friendly expression giving way to a serious one. "What did they ask for? What does Sorn want?"

Farah's head jerked, and her mouth twisted into a grimace. "Power... more power. They were warned... Suraya Lima... leads them. They follow him... like lambs to slaughter."

Adam's brows furrowed as he pulled out a small notebook and scribbled quickly. "Suraya Lima Good to know. And what did they leave behind?"

Farah's eyes rolled back down, returning to normal as she gasped for breath, collapsing against the wall. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and shot Adam a glare. "He went away"

Adam shrugged, offering her a lopsided smile. "They always ran before we can ask more questions. I'm used to it by now."

Farah muttered something under her breath before standing up fully. "Whatever, at least we got a name. Suraya LIma"

Farah could only get possessed one time a day. Possession takes a toll on her body, therefore she was warned that may cause to much strain on her body.. They enter the mansion cautiously, now armed with a name and a purpose. As they stepped into the room where Denavolt had been found, the air was thick with the weight of the ritual. The symbols on the floor seemed to pulse with an energy neither of them could explain. Farah rubbed her arms, shivering despite the warm air.

Adam crouched by the hearth, his sharp eyes noticing something off about the stonework. He pressed one of the stones, and with a quiet click, a hidden compartment opened.

"Looks like we've found the heart of this place's secrets," Adam said, pulling out a small, folded letter. The paper was yellowed with age, its corners brittle.

Farah, still recovering from her possession, approached him cautiously. "What is it?"

Adam unfolded the letter, his eyes narrowing

"I fear for my soul. The shadows are watching me. I thought I could control them, that I could gain the power I desired. But they whisper to me now, telling me things I do not wish to hear. They want more. They want blood. I don't know how much longer I can resist. - Denavolt"

Meanwhile, Yahya's Investigation

Yahya Kasim sat in his car, parked outside one of Cinderfire's most exclusive private clubs. The rain pattered softly on the windshield as he reviewed the information on Denavolt's associates. The club was a place of wealth and influence, frequented by those with power—and secrets. Yahya's sources had led him here, to Denavolt's inner circle. People who might know why a man like him would dabble in dangerous rituals.

Inside the club, the air was thick with cigar smoke and the low hum of conversation. Yahya made his way through the velvet-curtained rooms, past men in tailored suits and women draped in jewels. His contact was sitting at the far end of the bar, a man named Awang, who had been close to Denavolt for years.

Awang eyed Yahya warily as he approached but nodded toward an empty seat next to him. Yahya sat down, and the waiter poured a hot cup of coffee in front of him without a word.

"So, you're looking into Denavolt's death," Awang said, swirling his drink. His tone was casual, but there was an edge to his voice.

Yahya nodded, his gaze steady. "You were close to him. You knew his dealings better than most."

Awang let out a slow sigh. "Yeah. I knew him. But the man was... changing. Last few months, he wasn't the same. Started talking about things that made no sense. Old gods, rituals, and power beyond mortal comprehension. He was desperate."

Yahya leaned forward. "What do you know about a man named James Baker?"

Awang's expression darkened. "Baker… That's a name I haven't heard in a while. He's trouble. After the war, he gathered people—desperate ones, mostly. They were looking for a new cause. The Circle of Sorn, they call themselves now. They believe in tapping into some ancient power, but all they do is play with things they can't control."

Yahya frowned. "The war ended years ago. Why are they still active?"

Awang sighed, tapping his glass. "We won the war, sure. But it cost us more than we gained. The final push… that weapon, it was too much. We lost too many. Left a void, one that Baker and his kind are happy to fill. He tells people there's power in the old ways, power that can make sure we never lose again. It's seductive."

Yahya glanced at the bartender, who had been silently refilling drinks, listening in. The man was older, maybe in his late fifties, and the lines on his face hinted at a life spent in service. His eyes met Yahya's, and after a moment, he nodded.

"I served," the bartender said quietly, his voice rough. "Same as you, Kasim. We all did our part, but that final battle… we won, but what we used... it took more from us than it gave. Men like Baker thrive in the aftermath. They prey on those who can't forget."

Yahya nodded solemnly. "The weapon ended the war, but at what cost?"

"Too high," the bartender murmured. "Too many good men gone. And now, Baker's trying to pick up the pieces, offering people power they don't understand."

Awang finished his drink and stood. "Look, Kasim, if you're smart, you'll stay away from this. Baker's dangerous. He's got connections in places you wouldn't believe. But if you really want to find him, follow the money. Denavolt was funding his circle, and there'll be a trail."

Yahya stood as well. "Thanks, Awang. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry about what happened back then."

Awang gave a bitter smile. "We all lost something, Kasim. Just be careful you don't lose yourself."

Back at Headquarters

Hours later, the team reconvened at their makeshift headquarters in the basement of an old library. Jusof sat at the head of the table, his serene, wise presence grounding the group. Farah and Adam arrived first, placing the letter they'd found on the table.

"We've got a lead," Farah said, glancing at Yahya, who had just walked in. "Denavolt was dabbling in something, and it left a mark. A ritual—something dark."

Yahya sat down, pulling out a file. "I've got something too. Denavolt was tied to a group called the Circle of Sorn, led by James Baker. He was funding them, maybe even part of their inner circle. This isn't just some old cult—this group's active, and they've been recruiting ever since the war ended."

Yusof, who had been silent until now, leaned forward, his brow furrowing as he examined the letter. "Circle of Sorn," he muttered. "I've heard of them. They're dangerous—old-world magic, summoning things they can't control. And Baker... he's ambitious."

Jusof's calm voice carried weight as Warren flipped a card from his deck, the Ace of Spades. He stared at it for a moment before speaking. "Looks like we're getting closer. The symbols, the letter, the group—it's all connected. But we need to find out what they were summoning… and why."

The team sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the investigation settling over them.

"We'll need to move fast," Warren said, his voice low but commanding. "If this Circle is still active, there's no telling what they might try next."

Yahya nodded, his mind racing. The shadows were closing in, and the case was only getting darker.