The symbols, etched into the victims' skin and painted with disturbing precision at the crime scenes, clawed at Aris's mind. They were more than just random markings; they pulsed with a dark energy, a silent scream that resonated with something ancient and unsettling within him. He couldn't shake the feeling that these symbols held the key, not just to the killer's identity, but to a reality far stranger and more terrifying than he had ever imagined.

He retreated to his makeshift research corner in the lab, a space carved out amidst the sterile equipment and chemical fumes. Stacks of books on mythology, folklore, and obscure religious practices surrounded him, each page a potential breadcrumb in the labyrinthine path he was now forced to tread. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting long, distorted shadows that seemed to mimic the unsettling shapes he was studying.

Days blurred into nights as Aris immersed himself in the arcane. He traced the symbols with his fingertips, feeling the phantom sting of the killer's hand. He poured over ancient texts, deciphering forgotten languages and piecing together fragments of rituals and beliefs that had been buried for centuries. The more he learned, the more he realized the depth of the darkness he was facing.