I thought I’d seen every kind of corpse this city could cough up. Then they started showing up with tattoos that bled ink and vanished before sunrise.
I’m Detective Reese Calder, and I’ve spent ten years chasing ghosts with human faces. But this case? This one’s different.
These marks aren’t just skin-deep. They’re alive. And somehow, they know me.
Now I’m digging into a pattern no one wants to see — bodies with no connection, no cause of death, just symbols burned into flesh that weren’t there a day before. And the more I investigate, the more the ink spreads — in my thoughts, in my dreams, under my skin.
Someone — or something — is writing a message through the dead. And it’s starting to spell my name.

The Ink Beneath The Skin

The Awakening Below


The detonation never came.
There was a sound—like the cracking of a glacier, low and deep and slow—that rolled through the air and rattled the metal bones of the corridor. But the fire, the shockwave, the end I’d braced for, never reached me. Instead, the moment stretched, unnaturally long, as ...

  

The detonation never came.

There was a sound—like the cracking of a glacier, low and deep and slow—that rolled through the air and rattled the metal bones of the corridor. But the fire, the shockwave, the end I’d braced for, never reached me. Instead, the moment stretched, unnaturally long, as ...

The Quiet Between Heartbeats

 The Ink Beneath the Skin

    The Echo Glyph

 The House That Remembers

The Shape That Watches

The Things That Watch in Mirrors

Through the Shard

The Shape in the Glass

 The World Beneath the Veil

The Echo in the Walls

The Words We Bleed

The Name Beneath the Ink

 The Hollow Between Breaths

The Mirror That Bled My Name 

The Reflection That Spoke in Blood

The Shape of Silence

The Mirror That Lied

Shatterglass

The Breathing in the Dark

The Smile in the Static

 Static Between the Screams

The Visitors Beneath the Floorboard

The Lesson That Was Never Taught

Ink and Bone

The Mirror Knows

 The Room That Knew Her Name

The Shattered Self

The Memory That Bleeds