The moment we stepped out of the guest house, the low rumble of an approaching vehicle caught my attention. Derrick and Antolio drove in, pulling up in front of us. The engine idled briefly before shutting off. Both of them climbed out of the car, their faces shadowed by concern.

"Welcome back. I trust Harold's body was delivered without issue?"

"Everything went as expected, young master," Derrick said. "But there's something you might want to address immediately. Mr. Leoh has entrusted me with a message—one that you should take into consideration as you prepare to lay Harold to rest. If you'd prefer, we can discuss this issue in a more private setting, perhaps inside the house."

"Speak openly. I've extended an offer to Gerald to join our pack. His expertise and experience are valuable assets, and I trust his insights."

Derrick glanced briefly at Gerald, who nodded in silent acknowledgment, before returning his attention to me. "Understood. Regarding the message. Mr. Leoh mentioned that we'll need to hire another builder for the pyre. While he is preparing Harold's body for cremation, he has made it clear that he will not assist in the actual cremation process. We'll need to find someone else to complete the task."

"Did he say why?"

Derrick sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly before he answered. "From what I understand, his reasons were... peculiar. He mentioned that during his last funeral, a man appeared after the ritual was completed. This stranger began scooping up the ashes and collecting the remaining bones of the corpse, as if he had been waiting for the moment. When Mr. Leoh confronted him, he was startled by the man's appearance. He described him as unsettling, almost skeletal in appearance, like something that had barely clung to life."

Antolio stepped forward, handing me a yellow envelope with Mr. Leoh's name neatly written on the front. "Those are photographs taken by Mr. Leoh's camera," Derrick said. "Leoh's usual services include preparing the corpse, constructing the pyre, and assisting the immediate family in burying the ashes of their loved ones."

Curious, I opened the envelope and pulled out a handful of photographs. The first few showed a man at a distance, surrounded by what looked like skeletal wolves.

"These were taken shortly after Leoh survived an attack by skeletal werewolves," Derrick said. "The wolves didn't appear by chance—they were summoned, right in front of him, by this man."

Derrick pointed to a figure in the photograph, donned in a black tunic. The edges of the fabric gleamed faintly with red glyphs. The figure's eyes glowed with an unsettling green light that seemed to leap off the image, making me uncomfortable.

"He looks... almost dead," I said.

"Nobody knows who he is. But Mr. Leoh is terrified of him. Do you think we should prepare to encounter someone like him? What are the chances that he will appear during or after Harold's funeral?"

I exhaled slowly, understanding that this man might pose a threat far greater than we could anticipate. "I don't have an answer to your question, Derrick. I don't know who this man is or what he wants. Regardless of his identity, we don't have much of a choice. Harold's funeral rites must be performed, and the only place left to us is Moonshade Hollow. The vampires will never allow a werewolf funeral ritual to be conducted anywhere near Adams."

Turning toward Gerald, I held up the photograph, hoping he could recognize the man in the picture. "By any chance... have you seen this man before?"

Gerald stared at the picture, as a tinge of fear clouded his eyes. "I'm afraid all necromancers in the Northwest region look nearly identical. That skeletal face you see—it's the result of countless rituals performed over the years. These individuals push their life force to the very brink of death to achieve their goals. What you're looking at is no ordinary warlock, young master. This man is part of a cult I hope to never cross paths with, The Revenants of the Ashen Circle. The Revenants are warlocks who have forsaken their humanity to straddle the line between life and death. They meddle in the dark arts, unearthing forbidden knowledge, especially the power to control death. Their existence is a blight on this region, yet they rarely make themselves known. For one of them to appear so openly—it's concerning."

Gerald grabbed the photograph and pointed at the glyphs on the necromancer's robe. "These glyphs are unique to the Revenants. Curtis warned me long ago never to engage in a fight with these necromancers. These glyphs grant them the ability to siphon the life force from their victims. A single touch could leave even the strongest of us weakened or worse. Normally, they keep to themselves, hidden away in their secret enclaves. Their exposure here is highly unusual. If this man is part of the Ashen Circle, they've likely caught wind of the upcoming war of the clans. They may be preparing to intervene in some way. And while they are physically weak, their magic is said to be nearly inexhaustible."

"Vantos might know more about them. If anyone can shed light on the Revenants and their intentions, it's him. Maybe he can tell us if they represent a real threat to us."

"We're visiting Vantos again?" Derrick asked.

"I know you can't enter the Glass Club, Derrick. And the same goes for Gerald. This time, Antolio and I will handle the negotiation with Vantos. You and Gerald will stay in the vehicle and wait until we're done."

"May I ask why we're going to see him?"

"I'm looking for a way to help Annie survive until the next full moon. She's not doing well. The fever is consuming her, and if we don't act quickly, we might lose her before she completes the transformation. We need to convince Vantos to give us a hand, no matter the cost. And I have a good idea of what he wants. Let's just hope he has the skills to help Annie survive. Her life depends on it."

We drove into town, noticing a dense cloud of smoke hanging heavily in the air, exactly where Vanto's club was located. The once vibrant sky was now painted in vivid hues of orange and crimson, illuminated by the inferno consuming what remained of the abandoned warehouse. The acrid scent of burning wood, scorched metal, and ash assaulted our senses as we neared the scene, the devastation becoming more apparent with each passing moment.

Ahead, the road was blocked by a barricade, manned by four enforcers standing resolutely in front of it. "Tobias, we've got an issue here," Derrick said.

One of the enforcers noticed us immediately, stepping forward. "You can't go through here. Turn back now," The enforcer said.

Derrick rolled down the window slightly, with a calm behavior. "What's happening?" he asked.

"The situation is under control, sir. This area has been secured. Please turn around and leave immediately."

Derrick glanced over his shoulder, looking at me. "What do you want me to do, young master?"

"Do what he says. It's not a good idea to spark their curiosity about why we are traveling through here. We'll have to find a different route. The abandoned warehouse appears to be engulfed in flames. I just hope that Lutia and Vantos are alright."

Derrick gave a brief nod, shifting the car into reverse as we carefully pulled away from the barricade. I glanced back at the enforcers, watching as the flames continued to consume what had once been Vantos' last known location.

"If I may, young master, I would like to offer a suggestion," Gerald said.

"I'm all ears."

"These buildings were originally part of the old settlement. Back then, a network of underground tunnels connected the basements of these structures, extending to the town's borders. They were primarily used to smuggle slaves safely, bypassing werewolf attacks in the surrounding forests. Given the current blockade, we still can access the abandoned warehouse through these tunnels. Vantos is a fearless warlock, and I doubt a little fire has him shaking in his boots."

"Are you out of your mind?" Derrick said. "Do you even know what roams in the sewer system?"

Gerald smirked, unfazed by Derrick's outburst. "What's the matter? Afraid of a few vampire ghouls? Relax. Their concentration is usually under the Vernara building, and we're far from there. Vampire ghouls rarely stray far from their elders. But if you've got a better idea, by all means, share it."

"My cousin, Beth, works at a thrift store just down the street. She's mentioned something before about rules for entering the basement and a barricaded door that leads to the sewers. It might be worth checking out."

"Then take us to your cousin. If there's a chance, she knows how to access those tunnels, we need to act on it. Annie's survival depends on it."

Derrick hesitated for a second longer before nodding. "Alright," he said. "But if we run into trouble down there, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Trouble is part of the job, isn't it? Let's just hope your cousin's information gets us where we need to go," Gerald said.

A short drive brought us to the storefront of an aged, antique building. Its façade bore the marks of an era long past, untouched by the relentless tide of modernization. The brickwork was weathered but sturdy, and the faded sign above the door read, Last Chance Thrift, its lettering painted in a nostalgic script. The large, paneled windows showcased an eclectic assortment of items—antique furniture, porcelain dolls, and dusty trinkets that seemed to whisper of forgotten stories.

"Here it is," Derrick said as he parked the car. "Last Chance Thrift."

We stepped out of the vehicle, and immediately, a putrid stench hit us like a physical force. The air was thick with the foul smell, so potent it clung to our senses, making it almost hard to breathe. It wasn't just unpleasant—it was unnatural as if the odor carried something more sinister than decay.

Derrick wrinkled his nose in disgust, sniffing the air like a hound trying to identify its source. His expression contorted into one of revulsion. "Tobias, are you picking up on that terrible smell?" he asked.

"It's hard to miss," I said, glancing around warily. "That's not just rot... there's something else in it."

"The scent of the damned," Gerald said. "I'd advise holding your breath until we're inside the store."

Derrick shot him a skeptical glance. "Didn't you say the concentration of vampire ghouls was under the Vernara building? Because it smells like they're right under my feet."

"Let's get going," I said, cutting off their bickering before it could escalate further. My patience was wearing thin, and the oppressive stench didn't help. "I want to be back home as soon as possible."

"Understood, young master."

As we approached the entrance, the soft chime of bells announced our arrival. The melodic sound rang out, breaking the heavy silence and offering a small but welcome reprieve from the tension that clung to us.

Stepping inside, I was immediately struck by the contrast between the store's interior and its aged, weathered façade. The space was surprisingly organized and impeccably maintained, defying any assumptions one might have made from the building's vintage exterior.

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Each item seemed to have been carefully placed with intention. Antique furniture gleamed with polish, while delicate porcelain dolls sat poised on shelves, their painted faces frozen in timeless expressions. The soft, warm lighting illuminated rows of trinkets and curiosities, each displayed with the precision of a collector who cared deeply for their craft.

I looked around as the guy's attention was drawn to an old rack holding DVD movies in it. As we navigate through the vintage items, a young woman emerged from the rear of the shop.

"Hello there!"

"Hey, Beth!" Derrick yelled, throwing his hands in the air dramatically as if they hadn't seen each other in years. "It's great to see you're still in town and even have a job."

Beth rolled her eyes. Her face immediately changed to an expression of annoyance. "Your enthusiasm isn't helping, cousin. The pay is dismal, I'm utterly uninterested, and the boss... well, let's just say she's missing a good portion of her marbles. This job is a stopgap, nothing more. And let's not forget—I'm in this situation because you didn't hold up your end of the deal we made."

Derrick raised his hands defensively, his expression one of surprise at Beth's sharp reaction. "I know, I know... and I'm sorry. I've had a lot on my plate lately, which is why I haven't had the chance to introduce you to the young master."

Beth stepped closer, standing in front of me with a confidence that seemed to defy her age. Her eyes reflected immediate curiosity, once she took a look at me. "So, he's your new boss?" she asked, glancing at Derrick before turning her attention to me.

Derrick cleared his throat awkwardly. "Young master, allow me to introduce you to Beth, my cousin. She's the human I've been wanting you to meet."

"Nice to meet you, sir," Beth said, offering her hand for a handshake.

"The pleasure is mine," I said, though I couldn't help but shoot Derrick a puzzled glance. Leaning slightly toward him, I whispered, "She's just a kid."

Beth's sharp ears caught the comment, narrowing her eyes. "Well, that's your perspective. Whether I'm a child or an adult, my intellectual capabilities aren't defined by my age. I might look young to you, but I can assure you, I'm well capable of behaving better than most adults," she said, glancing at Derrick.

"How old are you?" I asked.

"I'm fourteen, but I'll turn fifteen next week."

"Don't underestimate her, young master," Derrick said. "She's incredibly intelligent."

"That's true," she said. "I graduated from Berkshire High when I was nine and completed my studies at Othella University by the time I was twelve. I've won the Adams Scholars Award every year since I was ten. I hold a degree in probabilities, accounting, and high-stakes investments. Unfortunately, because of my age, no one thinks I'm capable of running a trust or managing something significant. So, I take what I can get. That means settling for jobs like this one."

"Impressive. I have a deal that might interest you."

"You've been hanging around warlocks too much, haven't you? Alright, what kind of deal are we talking about?"

"We're looking for a way into the old sewer system. I've heard these buildings have access to them."

Beth hesitated for a moment. Then, she took a step back, folding her arms defensively. "Rule-breaking is not my choice of entertainment. The one rule I'm obligated to follow here is that the door to the old sewer system must never be opened. Do you even understand what you're messing with?"

"We're aware of the ghouls. And you have my word, we'll keep you safe if things go south."

Beth laughed. "You think that's the problem? Let me spell it out for you—that door in the basement isn't going to open, no matter who you are. Besides, I need this dead-end job to scrape together enough money to pay a warlock to get me out of this forsaken town before the war of the clans begins. Trust me, I know better than to depend on my knucklehead cousin to protect me."

Her eyes widened, and she fixed Derrick with a dissatisfied stare. "By the time my mother realized this place was crawling with monsters, it was already too late. We couldn't leave—not without risking our lives. And now, with the culling of Adams set to begin in as little as six weeks, it's like a death sentence hanging over our heads. My mother almost died of a heart attack when she found out—a full-scale war between monsters will be unleashed on this town. Vampires, werewolves, warlocks, hunters... What chance do you think we have? What chance does she have? The probabilities are zero. Zero. We're just mere humans. In this town, that's as good as dead."

I couldn't let her refusal derail me from reaching Vantos. One way or another, we had to find a way through that door. Taking a deep breath, I softened my tone, trying to appeal to her sense of reason. "Beth, I understand your concerns. But a friend of mine is gravely ill, and going through the old sewers is the only way to reach someone who can help her survive."

"I'm sorry, but I can't help you. I can't afford to lose this job. Maybe, if you're willing to hire me and provide me with a better job than working in this dump, then I'll consider it."

"Help us get to the old sewers, and I'll seriously consider putting your skills to use. My family has a substantial amount of assets being managed by vampires. Given your knowledge of finances, I'm willing to entrust you with a portion of it."

Her eyes flickered with interest, though she remained silent, analyzing my offer.

"I'll ensure the pay is good enough to meet your standards."

"Fine, you have a deal," Beth said after a moment of hesitation. A small smile spread across her face, though there was a glint of mischief in her eyes. Without wasting another second, she dashed to the back of the shop, stopping abruptly in front of a narrow staircase that descended into the basement.

"Well... are you coming?"

We followed her into the basement, stepping into a dimly lit, musty space filled with stacked boxes and old furniture. The air felt cooler here, damp and heavy with the scent of mildew. Beth stopped beside a neatly arranged stack of boxes, her hands resting on her hips.

"The entryway to the tunnels is behind these boxes. Please be careful moving them—the last thing I need is an earful from Lara. Just place the boxes against the wall, and don't scratch the furniture, or she'll have my head."

Derrick and Antolio exchanged a glance before moving some boxes, while Gerald stood in front of an old bookcase. They started moving the furniture away and carefully removed the remaining boxes. As we cleared the door leading to the sewers, an overpowering stench wafted out, filling the room with the unmistakable odor of decay.

Beth immediately recoiled, covering her nose with her hands. "What is that smell?"

"That my dear cousin, is the smell of trouble," Derrick said.

"Well? Are you going to chicken out?" She asked, staring at me.

"No, go ahead and open the door."

With a faint smirk, Beth stepped forward, pulling an old, rusted key from her pocket. She inserted it into the lock, the metal grating as she turned it. The door creaked loudly as it swung open, revealing a dim, shadowy entryway. The foul stench of decay intensified, spilling out in thick, suffocating waves that made it almost unbearable to breathe.

"I will be upstairs gathering my things. Once Lara finds out I've opened this door, I'm as good as fired."

Without another word, we descended into the tunnels, the faint light from the shop quickly fading behind us. The air grew colder, the walls slick with dampness. After only a few steps, we emerged into a small chamber—a junction where multiple passageways branched out in different directions. At the center of the room stood a peculiar and unsettling statue. It depicted a grotesque gargoyle, its wings partially spread and its menacing features frozen in a twisted snarl. Clutched in its hands was the figure of an infant, small and fragile in contrast to the gargoyle's monstrous form. The infant's face was serene, almost angelic, its expression one of complete peace. The statue seemed to serve a purpose beyond decoration—perhaps a warning to those who dared venture deeper into these tunnels.

Suddenly, the sound of something tumbling down the stairway echoed through the chamber. A pair of flashlights clattered to the ground, their beams scattering erratically across the walls. Moments later, Beth appeared at the top of the stairs, giving Gerald a firm shove that sent him stumbling into the tunnels.

"I'm closing the door and barricading it again," Beth said, glancing at Gerald. "Sorry for the little push, old man, but you looked like you didn't want to go down there. I couldn't let you stay in the store. My cousin needs all the help he can get to make that pretty boy survive the ghouls. It's my only guarantee he'll keep his promise."

Gerald straightened himself, brushing off his jacket with a bemused grin. "No worries," he said, chuckling lightly. "I've always wanted to have coffee with a few vampire ghouls. Sounds like a riveting experience."

I couldn't help but smile as I watched the exchange between Gerald and Derrick's cousin. "I've got to say, I'm beginning to like your cousin. She's very... spontaneous."

Derrick laughed. "I warned you—she's a force to be reckoned with," he said, shaking his head. "But you might not be on board with her ultimate goal."

We stood before a network of tunnels branching out from the room. The steady drip of water echoing off the floor and the pervasive stench of decay made Gerald tremble with unease.

"I hope you'll understand, young master, I've never been much of a fighter. More of a pen-and-paper kind of werewolf, if you get what I mean."

"Relax, Gerald. Once we're in there, just don't get separated."

"You can count on me clinging to your side, my lord."

After a brief pause to decide which tunnel to take, Derrick's words resurfaced in my mind, gnawing at my curiosity. "Did you say, she has an ultimate goal?"

"I've never told you how I ended up here in Adams Town. We were traveling through the mountains, looking for a secluded cabin we'd rented out for a family vacation. Unfortunately, we took a wrong turn late at night and ended up crossing one of the bascule bridges. That's when we were attacked. A pack of werewolves ambushed us. Beth's parents and I survived, but only I was bitten. Beth's parents moved to the neutral zone in Adams Town, hoping for some semblance of safety. But I... I decided to follow the call of the alpha who made me into the monster I am today. I met Beth when she was only six years old. That was the first time she watched me turn into a werewolf."

"Let me guess... she wants to be a werewolf too," I asked.

"Unfortunately, that's her ultimate goal. She wants to be one of us. I've told her countless times that being a werewolf in this town will only make her life harder. It's not the solution she thinks it is—she should remain human."

"Charming story," Gerald said. "Not too far from my tale. Only back in my day, we didn't have cars to make poor driving decisions—just horses and wagons."

"That's not going to happen, Derrick, not after what Annie's going through. Beth doesn't know what she's asking for. For now, let's focus on getting out of here in one piece."

Antolio gestured to catch Derrick's eye. "Antolio says we should be on the lookout for a sigil like the one we saw at the entrance of the Glass Club. It's probably not limited to doors—it could be anywhere in the tunnels. Based on the warehouse's proximity to the thrift store, if we follow the southeast corridor, we should be able to reach it in a few minutes."

For a while, there was no sign of anything resembling a warlock's sigil, just the oppressive silence broken by the occasional drip of water. Then, a familiar scent began to mingle with the stench of decay, one I couldn't ignore.

"Wait! Don't take another step," I said, halting the group.

Derrick and Gerald froze, and their eyes darted around the dim corridor. Derrick sniffed the air, his expression tightening as he caught the same scent I had. "We're not alone," he said.

"There's no need to hide in the shadows, Dahlia. I can smell you."

A soft chuckle echoed from the darkness, and moments later, Dahlia emerged, stepping into the faint light. She tapped the silver tip of her dagger against her shoulder, as her eyes gleamed with amusement. "Hello, puppy. You're treading on vampire grounds. If you know what's best for you, turn around and leave."

"We have no interest in whatever lies here. We're only seeking an entrance to the empty warehouse nearby."

Dahlia moved closer, stopping just inches from me, as she slowly raised the tip of her blade under my throat. "Be careful, puppy. Vantos is a wanted man. Partnering with a criminal like him will surely get you in trouble."

"I'm not aware of any crimes committed by him, other than his dealings with demons. But if we're going to judge him for how he conducts himself, aren't we all demons in our own way?"

Then, to my surprise, she laughed. "You're very clever. I find you to be a fascinating man. Maybe... is the reason I haven't taken your life yet."

I smiled faintly, knowing Dahlia well enough to see through her act. She liked to play the part of the predator, the unyielding force to be reckoned with. But beneath the bravado, I knew she was a gentle soul—a fact she went to great lengths to conceal, especially in the presence of others. Her words were more for show than threat, a game she played to remind me of the roles we were expected to fulfill.

"Vantos' sigils have been eradicated from this area," she said. "Continue down the hallway for another fifty meters. On your left, you'll find a lever. Pull it, and it will reveal a hidden door that leads to an old storm drain. That drain will take you straight to the backyard of the old warehouse. I must warn you; these corridors are the domain of the elder's offspring. I recommend you, find your way out of their home before they find you."

"How can I repay your kindness?"

Dahlia leaned in closer, feeling the cool air of her breath brushing my ears. "I'll collect my dues personally, young master."

Dahlia smiled. Then, like smoke dissipating in the wind, she melded into the shadows, disappearing from sight. Derrick walked towards me, confused by her actions. "I don't understand. After all that tough talk, why she chose to help you?"

"I have no explanation for her behavior. But right now, I'll take all the help I can get to save Annie."

"You shouldn't trust her, Tobias. She's an extremely powerful vampire, and their favors don't come cheap."

"I know. But if her help gets us to Vantos and gives Annie a chance to survive, then it's a price I'm willing to pay."

As we continued down the corridor, my eyes landed on an unlit torch affixed to the left-hand wall. Its aged iron bracket seemed out of place among the stone walls, catching my attention. Derrick pointed his flashlight at it briefly before sweeping the beam farther down the corridor.

"No lever in sight," he said. "She must've been messing with us."

But something about the torch caught my attention. While it appeared immovable at first glance, instinct told me otherwise. I grasped it firmly and pressed it downward. A mechanical click echoed through the corridor, followed by the low rumble of stone grinding against stone. Slowly, the wall beside the torch began to shift, revealing a hidden passageway behind it.

"Here is our way in."

Derrick stared at the moving wall, then glanced at me, clearly impressed. "Unbelievable. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Vampires like to hide everything in plain sight."

As we stood there, waiting for the wall to slide open, a chilling hiss echoed through the shadowy corners of the dark room. The sound was low and menacing, slithering through the air like a warning. Almost immediately, the overpowering stench of decay surged around us, thick and cloying, choking the stale air and assaulting our senses.

"Brace yourselves, I believe we have company," Gerald said.