Abigail was harder to reach.
The Bayou coven had warded their territory extensively—witch magic layered so thickly that even I had to phase-shift through multiple barriers. By the time I reached their central compound, I'd burned through significant dimensional energy.
[Energy reserves: 65%]
[Recommendation: Complete mission quickly]
[Alternative: Return later]
Later wasn't an option. The Harvest was approaching too fast.
I found Abigail by the water, sitting alone on a dock, staring at the moon's reflection. She was younger than the others—maybe fourteen—with the hollow look of someone who'd already accepted death.
"You're not supposed to be here." She didn't turn around.
"No."
"The wards should have stopped you."
"They were impressive. Just not impressive enough." I sat beside her, keeping space between us. "You know what's coming?"
"The Harvest. Sacrifice. Resurrection." Her voice was flat. "I've been told since I was old enough to understand."
"And you believe them?"
A long pause. "Does it matter what I believe?"
"It matters to me."
She finally turned, studying me with eyes too old for her face. "You're not a witch. Not a vampire either—not really. What are you?"
"Complicated. Let's leave it at that." I pulled out another charm, identical to Monique's. "This will preserve your consciousness when you die. Keep it close. When the ritual happens, you'll have a choice—become the ancestors' puppet, or wait for someone to bring you back."
"Why would you give me a choice?"
"Because no one else has." I pressed the charm into her hand. "Hide it. Trust no one. And when the time comes, remember—death isn't the end. Not unless you let it be."
I phased out before she could respond.
[Contact established: Abigail]
[Trust level: Minimal, but curiosity engaged]
[Survival chance: Increased to 30%]
One left.