Publisher's Synopsis
The victim was young, barely more than a girl, her skin the color of bleached bone against the dark, glistening mud. Her eyes, wide and vacant, stared up at the oppressive sky, reflecting the morbid light filtering through the leaves. Her throat was slashed, a brutal wound that spoke of a rage that went beyond simple violence. But it was the markings that truly chilled Maxwell to the bone.
Etched into her skin, near her heart, was a symbol - a complex, swirling pattern that resembled a stylized serpent coiled around a sun. It wasn't a random act of vandalism; this was precise, deliberate, and disturbingly ritualistic. Maxwell, a man weathered by years spent battling the darkness that lurked in the human heart, felt a cold dread creep up his spine. This wasn't just a murder; it was a sacrifice.
