The late night southwester howled through the streets of the old town of Nueva Aurora, carrying an eerie whistle coming from somewhere in the shadows. It carries the feelings of melancholy, the kind that haunts the souls of the one who dares to listen-not until a scream of a child begins.

The cry pierced the silence of the night like a bullet shattering a glass window. Then, as fast as it came, the scream stopped. When nearby witnesses come to inspect what happened, the trail remains cold, leaving behind a single piece of paper with a drawing of a hanging stickman. It was drawn manually with a crayon and in every victim, different colors can be seen.

It's up for the people to know what lies ahead. Was it the work of a psychopath or Death itself finding its way to lure the one it failed to capture before?

The wail of sirens came piercing through the night. Detective Inspector Romero glanced over the drawing, picking it up, with gloves on her hands, from the streets where the scream was said to come from.

"This is the fourth one," she heard his Chief Inspector speak from behind her.

"What do you think is happening, Chief?" she asked.

"Same as the others weeks from now," replied Chief Inspector Ferrer. "A whistle was heard by nearby people, the disappearances had no witnesses, and an eerie drawing was left behind."

Romero's eyes furrowed with her breath clouding the air. "Four missing children—three young boys and now a nine-year-old girl. No one saw how they disappeared. What can we do?"

Ferrer turned away, reaching for his phone in his pocket. There is one person he knows who might know what is going on. Though unaware of her whereabouts, it was time for her to come back to the spotlight.

"Come on, Raine. It's time to play the game once more," he muttered to himself as the phone rang.