Morris' wife Mary stared at the cover of the letter for a long time, then took the letter opener from the side and opened it carefully.
A folded piece of thin paper fell out of the envelope. Before opening the paper, the first thing Mrs. Mary noticed was the uneven marks on the back of the paper.
That was handwriting - it was written with so much force that the traces of the strokes were clearly visible on the back of the paper.
The person who wrote this letter was probably extremely emotional at the time.
The old woman sitting in front of the fireplace adjusted her posture slightly, placed the letter she had read on the small round table next to her, and at the same time glanced at the date stamp on the cover of the letter from Frost in her hand.
The date of this letter is December 5th.
On the third day after the first letter was sent-in just three days, the late "Brown Scott" wrote this second letter.
Mrs. Mary opened the folded letter, and a few lines of scrawled and messy words came into her eyes - they were not at all as elegant and neat as the first letter sent by the folklorist a few days ago.
These few lines of text are filled with the writer’s great uneasiness and fear:
"My friend, the situation... is not right. I don't know how to explain it to you. I am very confused now, and it is even difficult to think. My mind is being disturbed by something. My memory... don't come to Frost! In short, don't
Come to Hanshuang! Even if you see other things I write to you in the future or see other forms of invitations, please do not come to Hanshuang!
"There is a huge conspiracy here.
"Don't come to the frost!"
There was no signature at the end of the letter, and even the stamps on the envelope were affixed crookedly.
Mrs. Mary looked at the scrawled words, as if she could imagine a folklorist who had mental problems under the huge cognitive tear, using up his last sanity to write these words, and then struggling to walk into the frost.
The scene when I delivered this letter to the post office with difficulty in the cold wind.
She slowly folded the paper back up and stuffed it back into the envelope.
This is a disturbing letter, and the whole thing is filled with an atmosphere of terror from beginning to end. Under normal circumstances, this would be enough to make the person involved run to the church to seek refuge.
Mrs. Mary's eyes glanced at the small round table next to her and the letter home from the Lost Home——
"...The offspring of the deep sea really have a unique taste, which is more delicious than ordinary fish. The captain has mastered special cooking skills, and Anomaly 099 - Miss Alice, has learned the essence of it. Maybe I should try it too
…”
The old woman silently threw the letter from Frost into the nearby fireplace, watching it burn quickly in the bright flames and turn into ashes.
"They have already gone..."
She muttered softly, then stood up and took the ink, pen and letter paper from the shelf next to her, and began to write a letter - this letter would be sent to an antique shop in the lower city.
…
Church personnel wearing black coats walked around the cemetery, checking all the remaining traces here - every path, every coffin, every street lamp, had been marked and sampled, hoping to restore the place last night.
Things that happened.
The "gatekeeper" Agatha stayed in the caretaker's cabin. Opposite her sat the old caretaker with a gloomy temperament and a stooped back.
After an unknown amount of time, the young woman with most of her body covered in bandages raised her head and glanced at the sky outside the window. She saw that the sun had gradually set, and a layer of slightly reddish glow began to float over the entire city.
.
As evening approached, the guards she brought had been busy in the cemetery for several hours, and the old guard in front of her had also been silent for several hours.
Strictly speaking, the old guard is not just silent - he maintains an almost closed-minded state, not moving, saying anything, and not responding to external stimuli, ever since the church guards arrived here after receiving the report.
, he has been sitting quietly on that chair, like a breathing flesh and blood sculpture.
A guard in black pushed open the wooden door of the guard's cabin, came to Agatha, bent down and whispered something. The latter nodded slightly: "I understand, send the sample to the cathedral first, and keep the scene as it is.
, Tonight may be critical, and someone needs to be kept under supervision."
The guard in black nodded and accepted the order, but before leaving, he couldn't help but glance at the old man sitting motionless on the chair. When he saw the old man's cloudy eyes that seemed to be frozen, the young guard's face was obviously a little troubled.
Uneasy: "How long...will he maintain this state? Is it really okay?"
"Protective mental closure. He is using this method to fight against and remove the pollution he has suffered. It may also be to protect us by the way," Agatha whispered. "The gravekeeper must have been exposed to something far beyond imagination last night."
He seems to have struggled back from the edge of madness...but don't worry, he is an experienced warrior and has successfully stabilized his situation, and he will be fine."
Speaking of this, Agatha paused and added: "As for how long this state will last... I can't say. It may recover in the next second, or it may have to wait until this time tomorrow. The specifics are
Let’s see how long he has been in contact with that terrible pollution.”
The black-clothed guard thought for a moment, then looked up at the window. Through the slightly dirty glass window, he could see the busy church personnel on the path outside.
He withdrew his gaze again and looked at the two corpses in the hut - the two intruders, who had been confirmed to be Annihilation Cultists, apparently died in the hands of the old guard, because the situation was still unclear. For the sake of protecting the scene, this
The two bodies were still there.
They cannot be the reason for the old guard's closed mind, even if the demon behind them is out of control, it is not at this level.
What could that be? A more powerful deep demon? A high-ranking priest of the Annihilation Cult? Or something else?
The guard in black expressed his doubts, but Agatha just shook her head: "No, it should be a more weird and dangerous situation."
"Why are you so sure?" the guard in black asked subconsciously.
"Because there are really only traces left by a few heretics at the scene, and a pile of corpses of suspected 'restless ones' without any extraordinary reactions," Agatha said lightly, "There are no observable traces left.
mean……"
"It means that the visitor last night did nothing. He only existed in this cemetery for a moment, which was enough to make me, an old guy, mentally critical."
The old man's voice suddenly sounded in the hut, interrupting the communication between the black-clothed guard and the gatekeeper. Agatha immediately looked in the direction of the voice, with a faint smile finally showing on her expressionless face: "Please recover.
Yes, very good.”
"I dare not say that I have fully recovered," the old guard said slowly, gradually stabilizing the various perceptions that were slightly offset after reopening his mind. He looked into Agatha's eyes and consciously blocked the jumping heavy objects behind her.
Shadow, "But at least you can tell which part is reality and which part is madness."
"The corpse that you sent suddenly became restless, talked a lot, and was sober as a living person. Then four Annihilation cultists entered the cemetery and wanted to take away the restless person - they used the power of the deep demon
Disguising himself as a skilled summoner, he hid it from my eyes, but not from my intuition.
"I lured two people here, killed them, the two on the floor, and then was about to go to the cemetery to kill the other two, when an accident happened."
The old guard raised his head and looked in the direction of the door.
"An indescribable... visitor came to visit. I looked at him for a while, maybe only a few seconds. There was something wrong with my time judgment and I couldn't do it accurately."
"The unnameable visitor?" Agatha couldn't help but frown, "Can you be more specific?"
The old guard tried to remember.
All that came to his mind were a bunch of chaotic lights and shadows, and overwhelming noise.
The hasty mental closure eliminated the temporary contamination suffered by oneself, but also erased some useful memories.
"No, I just remember that there were chaotic lights, shadows and noises," the old guard shook his head, "And even if I could accurately describe what I saw, it would be meaningless to you - what I saw may not be true.
Even if it is true, it may not be true in the eyes of others. As humans, our perception methods are too limited."
"Okay, then this is the whole answer," Agatha nodded. "An unnameable visitor visited the cemetery in the final stage, but did not actively cause any damage... You confirmed that you want to use 'visit' in the report
'This word? This word is neutral, even friendly."
"Sure," the old guard replied calmly, "I had a conversation with Him, although we almost didn't succeed in communicating anything - the visitor tried to communicate, which is a neutral and friendly signal."
"Understood, recorded," Agatha nodded again, "Then what? What else?"
"After the visitor left, I vaguely saw that he left some... things on the path at the door," the old guard recalled, "but I couldn't see it clearly. My vision was already severely impaired by that time.
I was traumatized and my cognition also has big problems, I’m not sure..."
"If you are talking about a pile of wreckage that was burned by the deep demon, then we found it," Agatha interrupted the old guard calmly, "If you are right, it seems to be the visitor's.