On the Roof
Rain hisses off the rooftop of the View Restaurant, turning the city into a blur of silver ghosts. Dominik Stancic stands face to face with the Nemean Lion, the beast of chalk’s golden mane dark with rain, its voice rumbling like thunder trapped in a cave.
In the old tongue, ancient Greek, Dominik speaks. The lion lowers its head, says it was brought back to life by the Master of Chalk. Then, as the rain washes over the rooftop, the creature fades, its chalk and color bleeding away until only puddles remain.
Moments later, footsteps on the fire escape. The young waiter from earlier, polite smile, careful eyes, climbs up through the storm. He surveys the scene, relief flickering behind practiced hospitality.
Waiter: I see the situation’s been handled. Good.
With a more stern tone than his usual warm welcoming waiter’s voice, he warns Adriano Julianis that someone’s been asking about him and that he’d rather not see any more trouble under his roof. He offers them a discreet way out through the back staircase. Grace stops him before they leave, and asks for his name. He hesitates. Then, almost like an afterthought:
Luke, the waiter at the View Restaurant, knows more about the lion and the events than he first let on.
What Just Happened?
They step into the rain-soaked alley behind the restaurant, the storm still drumming its relentless rhythm, one question echoing between them: What the hell just happened? A mythical lion. A vanished body. A mysterious artist: the Master of Chalk.
The Master of Chalk is named by the Nemean Lion as the one who brought it to life.
Grace proposes a visit to the Tourist Information Center, where the chalk mural first appeared. The street’s still slick, the neon reflections slicing across the puddles. As they observe the chalk art outside, near the entrance, a cheerful young man named Llanzo Sterling greets them with the bright, rehearsed warmth of someone paid to smile. He mistakes them for tourists and waves a handful of concert tickets for one of the most famous name in the City.
Llanzo Sterling: Isabella Aguilar, two weeks from now! A voice like honey and heartbreak! If you don’t already know her, you will!
They decline. Grace steers the conversation toward the mural outside, the one that birthed a lion. Llanzo nods eagerly.
Llanzo Sterling: That piece? Oh, that’s new! Done two days ago by the Maestro of Chalk, local celebrity, part of the Artist Collective of Mayfare Lane. We even gave permission. The Collective’s got a whole open-studio setup in their converted warehouse; you should check it out!
He slips them a colorful pamphlet before they can protest further.
The group takes their leave, their nerves frayed by the man’s relentless cheer.
The Artist Collective of Mayfare Lane might have information about the Maestro of Chalk.
Friendly Reception
The next stop: the Acacia Boutique Hotel, a sleek tower of chrome and chatter in the Tourist Trap District, amongst the best view of the ocean from the City’s shores. Tour buses clog the front, and the lobby buzzes with the chaos of check-ins and vacation plans. Behind the front desk, Sally, the concierge they met during the storm, frowns over her notes.
She brightens when she sees Grace and Adriano. Offers them smiles, professional courtesy barely masking tension. Adriano turns on his political charm; Grace lets him take the lead. They learn that two families are missing, guests of the hotel who vanished without a trace.
Two families, the Zieglers (a couple) and the Magills (two parents and three young children), have gone missing after leaving the Acacia Boutique Hotel.
Sally’s voice drops as she recounts:
Sally: The Zieglers, older couple, visiting their son Thomas at the University. They went to pick up brochures two days ago… never came back. And the Magills, a family of five. They had young kids. Asked about family spots, I sent them toward the Marina, the playgrounds, the restaurants. They were celebrating a birthday. They should’ve been back by dinner already.
Grace takes notes, recognizing in the Magills’ description the family they met before the Fall, in front of the Tourist Information Center. Adriano listens, charm softening into worry. Before they can ask more, an older clerk notices their soaked, disheveled clothes. Her voice cuts through the lobby after glancing at Adriano’s torn shirt:
Clerk: Excuse me! This is a respectable establishment! Have some decency and get out of this place immediately!
The moment breaks. Dominik strolls in just in time to defuse it, flashing his taxi driver grin. The trio leaves before things escalate.
A Bit of Rest
The rain eases by the time they split up. Grace Douglas heads to her workplace, the 35th Precinct in Downtown, where flickering lights and lukewarm coffee make up the night shift’s charm. She finds Detective Enkidu, rough-edged, honest, a cop from Miller’s Square who’s seen too much and believes just enough. Over bad coffee and worse lighting, Grace lays out the bones of the case. Enkidu shakes her head and though she hasn’t seen anything quite like it, she promises to keep an ear out.
By midnight, Sally calls the precinct ; this time, officially filing reports for the disappearances of the Zieglers and the Magills.
Meanwhile, Adriano collapses at his Parkside apartment, exhaustion and ambition sharing the same bed. Dominik, back behind the wheel, cruises through the sleepless veins of the City. His fares blur by, until one stands out: a drunk woman from the Artist Collective of Mayfare Lane. Her lipstick’s smudged, her enthusiasm less so.
Drunk lady: The Maestro of Chalk! Brilliant, absolutely brilliant! You should ask Jane Tan, she knows him well I think. Heard he’s been working near the Marina, something big.
Jane Tan, from the Artist Collective of Mayfare Lane, is a friend of the Maestro of Chalk.
A new chalk piece has appeared at the Marina, created overnight by the Maestro.
Back on the Job
Morning brings no answers, only more mist. Dominik picks up his partners, and the trio drives to the Marina, the City’s glittering edge where the ocean meets the tourist traps. Crowds gather near the pier, murmuring around a new wonder: a massive 3D chalk mural sprawling across the boards.
It’s breathtaking: a swamp rendered in uncanny depth, the air thick with the phantom scent of brine and mud. In the shadows of the illusion lurks a giant crab, its shell painted in blues that shimmer like oil on water.
Grace steps closer, scanning the edges, and spots something no one else does but another teenager nearby: five tiny, trapped figures, arms raised in panic, sinking in the mud at the edge of the drawing.
It’s them.
The Magills.
The Magill family appears trapped inside the new chalk drawing at the Marina.
Before anyone can stop her, Grace reaches out, fingers brushing the wet surface. The mural ripples. A claw bursts from the chalk, grabs her arm, and drags her screaming inside. The world turns green and cold. Mud. Water. The smell of salt and fear.
Grace opens her eyes. She is in the swamp and stands face-to-face with a colossal crab.
Cut to black. Roll credits.