Moon_knight12

She solves murders.
She used to commit them.

Detective Aesira walks the rain-slicked streets of Old Town with a mind like a scalpel and secrets buried in shadows. Known for cracking the most confounding cases, she’s cold, brilliant—and haunted. Years ago, she silenced the killer within herself. Or so she thought.

When a series of murders begin to mimic her long-forgotten crimes—complete with chilling floral arrangements at every scene—Aesira is forced to confront a terrifying truth: someone knows who she used to be. Someone is recreating her work. And they want her attention.

As she chases a phantom through the twisted alleys of her past, Aesira meets Lucian, a man who sees through her mask and into her darkest desires. He knows everything. He may even love her. But his obsession could destroy them both.

Flowers of Death is a slow-burning psychological thriller where beauty and brutality entwine. With each case, the line between justice and madness blurs—until Aesira must choose who she really is: the hunter, the artist… or the killer.

Flower Of Death

"With silence, with a shadow,and with the faint scent of flowers."

It's been ninety-three days since I walked away from the flames.

Since I stopped being Detective Vale.

Since I buried Lucian with fire and memory.

Since I stopped pretending I could ever return to who I was before.

A nameless coast where the fog eats the sun before it touches the shore, and the birds cry like old ghosts.

My apartment is small. Sparse. Quiet.

But sometimes, I still feel the darkness curled beneath my ribs, sleeping like a stray dog waiting for its master to whistle.

Not police reports. Not confessions.

Every twisted ending, every bloody metaphor. It's all mine.

They call them brilliant. Atmospheric. Disturbing.

Because they'll never know how close they've come to the truth.

Once, a young woman knocked on my door.

Said she recognized me. Said she used to read about me in the papers. The detective who solved the unsolvable.

She looked at me like I was a legend.

But legends are just stories with the teeth filed down.

I told her she had the wrong person.

I watched her go with something like longing. Or regret.

The wind tangles in my hair. The sea tries to erase my footprints as soon as I make them.

And sometimes, when the moon is high and the world is still, I feel him beside me.

A mirror I'll never look into again.

But when I do, it's always the same:

Bodies sleeping among the flowers.

And me, walking barefoot through it all.

Not detective. Not killer. Not victim.

Just someone trying to live with the echo of who she used to be.

And the story keeps writing itself.

One step. One breath. One secret at a time.

I never stopped killing.

Chapter 20: A New Beginning