The fog rolled in thickly over London, cloaking the cobblestone streets in a damp embrace.
William Harper, a private investigator, leaned against the damp brick of his office, the flickering gaslight illuminating the shadows of his troubled past.
Since the first victim was discovered in Whitechapel, whispers of an ancient curse had spread like wildfire among the superstitious.
To the police, it was just another murder; to Harper, it was a nightmare rising from the depths of his own memories.
Haunted by the unsolved disappearance of his sister years prior, he felt the weight of each victim’s final scream echoing within him.
As he thumbed through the newspaper clippings, a chilling pattern emerged, each death an echo of the last, each more grotesque than the one before.
The local constabulary turned a blind eye, their ranks twisted by corruption and fear.
But Harper knew something darker lurked beneath the surface.
He couldn’t decide if he was chasing a man or something far more sinister hidden in the fog.
The clock was ticking, and the city had grown restless.
The stage was set, and the shadows were stirring once more.