Hearing this, Seth's mouth fell open.
'They're all fucking witches?!'
He screamed internally.
His plan of being a simple lookout suddenly felt terrifyingly inadequate.
Seeing the shock on his face, Phoebe explained further.
"I don't know how it happened either. I thought I was the only one in the family. I tried to seek help from my mentor, Danica. But after she did some digging, she told me not only are they all witches, but they have strong, formal connections to the Coven of Abomination..."
"That's a major coven, Seth. It's not something I can challenge directly."
She sighed, the stress of the past few months evident in her posture.
"After my mentor left to handle her own business, my investigation stalled. I'm not... I'm not very good at this spy stuff. I barely gathered any useful information on my own."
Then, she looked at him, and a new, hopeful light appeared in her eyes.
A small, determined smile played on her lips.
"However..."
She said, her voice gaining a bit of its former energy.
"With your [Null Presence], I'm sure it'll work out better! You can get close and listen in on their conversations better than me! You can possibly even find dirt or secrets that we can use against them!"
Seth frowned deeply.
The more he learned, the more impossible this seemed.
"Even if we get all the information we need, actually dealing with them sounds... suicidal. They're not just one or two witches after all. It's an entire family backed by a major coven..."
"How could we possibly win?"
Phoebe offered a sad, knowing smile.
It was the expression of someone who had already faced this despair.
"Yes."
She agreed softly.
"That's exactly why I told you that you can back out anytime you want. I will not force you to push through with me. I've carried this weight for a long time. I don't expect you to carry it too."
Seth leaned back, thinking it over.
He was sure this was a revenge mission doomed from the start.
The only way it could work was if Phoebe gathered all her connections, but why would other witches risk their lives for her personal vendetta?
They obviously wouldn't...
To Phoebe, this was a lonely fight.
"Let's not talk about backing out just yet."
He said finally.
"Let's first discuss with how we'll proceed with this..."
...
Meanwhile, in a small, sparsely furnished bedroom in a distant town, a teenage girl was bent over a wooden desk.
Her shoulder-length black hair was tied back messily.
She had small, focused eyes and a round, youthful face that seemed at odds with her serious, mature posture.
She was diligently working on her academic studies, her pen scratching steadily across the paper.
The quiet concentration was shattered by a sharp shout from outside her window.
"Hello! Telegram for Rose Arden!"
Rose's head snapped up.
A telegram? For her?
That was unusual and expensive...
A strange confusion immediately formed in her mind.
She put down her pen and hurried to the front door.
A young messenger boy, looking bored, stood on the doorstep.
He held out a slim, folded paper.
"Sign here, miss."
Rose scribbled her name with a trembling hand and took the telegram.
She closed the door and leaned against it, her heart already pounding.
Telegrams were charged by the word and the distance they traveled...
They were for urgent, important news... and most of the time for bad news.
With fumbling fingers, she unfolded the paper.
The message was brutally short, a testament to the sender's tight budget.
"To, Rose Arden,
Seth has come back, please visit soon as there are things we need to discuss.
From, Phoebe."
The words seemed to burn into her eyes.
Seth has come back.
The paper slipped from her numb fingers, fluttering to the floor like a dead leaf.
A cold, sharp terror, more intense than any she had ever felt, seized her.
It wasn't joy.
It was pure, undiluted fear.
Her breath hitched, coming in short, gasps as panic welled up.
'No... no, it can't be...'
She thought to herself as she slightly trembled.
Panic took over completely.
She stumbled away from the front door, her legs feeling weak and unsteady.
She rushed into her small, neat bedroom, her eyes wide with fear.
She could barely think clearly as she yanked open the drawers of her modest desk, not caring as papers, pens, and other small items scattered across the floor.
Her hands trembled violently as she rummaged through the contents, searching for one thing, the one thing that could confirm her worst nightmare...
Finally, her fingers brushed against a small, carefully folded piece of paper tucked away at the very back of the bottom drawer, hidden beneath a stack of old notebooks.
She pulled it out with and odd carefulness.
It was a letter from Seth...
But not a happy one.
It was the last thing he had ever written to her, just days before his death.
The handwriting was his, but the words were not those of the gentle brother she remembered.
With tears now streaming down her face, she unfolded the note and read the chilling warning for what felt like the hundredth time:
"Dear sister, I know the end you plot for me. But this sleep is not a death; it is a cocoon. And what awakens when I come back from death will make you long for the quiet peace of the grave. Should you tell others about this, know that you are not saving them— you are simply adding their names to my list."
...
Seth walked slowly along the main road of Matamisan City, his hands tucked into his pockets.
His eyes scanned the bustling scene— the pedicabs rattling by along with the crowds of people going about their day.
But he wasn't really seeing any of it.
A deep, hollow feeling sat in his chest.
He felt like a ghost, disconnected from the lively world around him.
A sigh escaped his lips, lost in the city's noise.
He needed to get away from the crowds before his habit of contemplating life begins again...
Making a sharp turn, he left the main road and entered a narrower, quieter street market.
This area was less busy, with smaller stalls and fewer people.
It was the perfect place for his plan.
Today, he wasn't just going to wander aimlessly, he was going to test the limits of his ability, [Null Presence]!