Coming to Terms with Murder

Guy was assaulted by another scene like that from a warzone straight out of his past life. The brothel was burnt to ashes, and the authorities were retrieving charred corpses whose flesh had melded into their bones, and whose bones were half a step away from crumbling into ashes. The retrieved bodies, or what remained of them, ranged in size and gender (though the latter was much harder to decipher). An acrid smell of burned flesh pervaded the already congested atmosphere.

"All the entrances and exits were unlocked, why did no one run out?" Guy eavesdropped on a conversation between two constables nearby.

"Heck if I know! It's creepy, I tell ya! Eight other locations, the exact same modus operandi. We have ourselves a serial arsonist in Sunspear."

"No survivors?" The first constable inquired. To that, the second man leaned closer and whispered in a barely audible voice.