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“Hold still, and keep your voice down. Everything is under control,” the old man returned in a hushed whisper. His stare remained steadfast on the formidable figure approaching them. One of his hands was held out to his side, acting as a barrier to Annie’s restless gaze, while his other rested on his chest. Nestled there was an amulet capable of activating the cemetery’s emergency alarm, ready to be used if the situation demanded it.

As the burly figure closed in, the elderly caretaker could feel his muscles involuntarily tighten.

“Good morning,” came a deep voice from beneath a mesh of thick bandages, the words reverberating as if echoing from a grave, “I believe this is my first formal ‘visit’.”

The message was clear, and the tone friendly. Much like their past interactions, this mysterious “visitor” seemed to adopt a peaceful stance.

However, the old caretaker couldn’t let his guard down. He had anticipated the visitor’s return at some point, and he had mentally rehearsed his reactions for various potential scenarios. But he had never predicted such a bold appearance right at the cemetery gate, a face-to-face greeting. The old man was also uncertain about the impact of this encounter on Annie. His only option was to shield her while he figured out the best response.

His anxiety was not lost on the visitor, Duncan.

The old man seemed even more rattled than during their initial encounter. Was it the young girl he was safeguarding that caused this heightened tension?

“Calm down,” Duncan suggested, a touch of mirth coloring his voice, “I bear no malice — and I assure you, the child you’re protecting will not be harmed.”

“I appreciate your peaceful intentions, but your mere presence could potentially unsettle those unaccustomed to the supernatural,” the caretaker responded, choosing his words carefully to avoid offending the visitor, “This young girl has not received any form of training to handle supernatural phenomena.”

“Well, then she’s in no danger,” Duncan said, “She can’t see what doesn’t exist, and you of all people should know that.”

The caretaker fell silent for a moment. He understood what Duncan was implying, and he knew that Annie, as an ordinary human, shouldn’t be affected by certain unearthly forces in the same way he was. Yet, he couldn’t fully relax and tentatively asked, “What brings you here this time?”

“Isn’t the priestess on these grounds?” Duncan’s eyes scanned the depths of the cemetery with curiosity, “I have some crucial information that I need to share with her.”

“She just stepped out,” replied the elderly groundskeeper, his caution escalating at the mention of Agatha, “What business do you have with her?”

After a brief pause, he continued, “I can reach out to her when needed — as cemetery wardens, we are part of the clergy and can directly communicate with the cathedral and the gatekeeper.”

“That’s convenient. It’ll save me some hassle,” said Duncan. He reached into his pocket, a move that visibly heightened the cemetery caretaker’s tension. Seeing this, Duncan chuckled and shook his head, “There’s no need to be alarmed. If I harbored any harmful intentions, I wouldn’t have to make a move.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than he pulled out a sealed envelope from his coat pocket and handed it over to the elderly man standing before him.

“Pass this on to the ‘gatekeeper’ Agatha or directly to your cathedral,” Duncan said nonchalantly, “It’s just a message. As long as it gets to its intended recipient, that’s all that matters.”

A letter? He brought a letter? The old groundskeeper appeared genuinely startled by the object the visitor had presented, and he instinctively accepted it. Only after a moment did he comprehend what he was holding, his eyes blinking in surprise. He never anticipated that this enigmatic visitor would physically come to the cemetery simply to deliver a letter to him.

He turned the envelope over, examining it closely.

On the backside, he recognized the amulet and the number of a small local printing business. It wasn’t an enchanted artifact steeped in supernatural power but a simple piece of notepaper likely purchased from a nearby newsstand, maybe even earlier that day.

Looking back up, the old man’s somewhat cloudy and yellow-tinged eyes reflected his visible bewilderment and curiosity.

“Consider it my small contribution to the city-state’s security,” Duncan offered with a smile, although the friendly expression was hidden behind his bandage-wrapped face. His gaze then shifted beyond the caretaker to the little girl concealed behind him, “Did I frighten you?”

“No,” Annie replied, shaking her head while cautiously studying the tall, intimidating figure through the gaps between the old man’s fingers, “I’m very brave.”

“I have a niece who’s also quite courageous,” Duncan said, directing his attention back to the elderly man, “This child is…”

“Just visiting the cemetery, an ordinary girl without any ties to the church,” the caretaker quickly intervened. Upon realizing that Annie was truly unaffected by the proceedings, he began to relax slightly, “I was persuading her to head home. The weather isn’t very pleasant today.”

“Snowy days can be treacherous,” Duncan nodded in agreement before casually asking the young girl, “What’s your name? How old are you?”

The caretaker’s heart clenched. He wanted to caution Annie, who had no previous experience with supernatural entities, to hold her tongue. After all, divulging one’s name to an unknown supernatural being of high caliber could pose a significant risk.

But his warning came a moment too late.

“My name is Annie,” the young girl announced without any hesitation, “Annie Babelli, and I’m twelve years old!”

A hushed stillness immediately descended upon the cemetery gate.

Duncan silently observed the little girl, who was now peeking out from behind the elderly caretaker. He scrutinized her eyes and noted the faintly recognizable features she shared with Captain Christo Babelli.

His question had been casual, unpremeditated, but he hadn’t expected… such an unexpected connection.

The crunching sound of footsteps on the snow diverted his attention. Alice appeared surprised as she gazed at the girl who had identified herself as “Annie Babelli” before turning to Duncan, “Wait, isn’t the surname Babelli familiar? Doesn’t it belong to…”

Duncan slowly stooped down, ensuring his line of sight was level with the girl’s, and adopted a gentler tone, “Your family name is Babelli?”

Perhaps sensing the shift in the atmosphere, Annie seemed to grow apprehensive, retracting slightly behind the elderly groundskeeper, “Yes, that’s correct.”

“And what is your relation to Captain Christo Babelli?”

“He’s… he’s my father,” Annie confessed in a soft voice. She then instinctively clung to the old caretaker’s clothes, lifting her gaze to him as if pleading for support.

However, the old man was frozen in disbelief as if a thought had struck him. He stared at Duncan, his expression full of incredulity, and then darted a tentative glance towards the veiled, blonde-haired young woman.

“You’re Captain Christo’s daughter—do you and your mother reside on Fireplace Street?” Duncan inquired of the little girl before him.

Annie nodded vigorously, then seemed to have a realization, “Did… did you know my father?”

“…We’ve met, although we weren’t particularly close,” Duncan confessed gently, “He asked me to keep an eye on you and your mother. I haven’t had the opportunity to locate you until now, and I certainly didn’t expect to run into you here.”

Surprise blossomed in Annie’s wide eyes.

The elderly groundskeeper by her side was equally taken aback.

“My father…” Annie began, struggling to formulate her thoughts into words. After wrestling with her thoughts for a moment, she finally ventured, “He truly is dead… isn’t he?”

With a tender nod, Duncan confirmed her worst fears.

“Then… will his remains be brought here?” Annie blurted out, “Adults say that believers in the god of death have their souls returned to Bartok’s cemetery after passing, where they’re guided towards that grand gate. The caretaker once told me that this cemetery is…”

Annie’s voice dwindled as she spoke, becoming almost inaudible.

She had ceased to believe in the tales the old man had once spun for her. After all, she was twelve now, old enough to know better.

Suddenly, Duncan extended his hand, ruffling Annie’s hair affectionately—snowflakes that hadn’t melted fell from her dense woolen hat, merging with the snow already blanketing the ground.

“Captain Christo was a remarkable man, and he has already found tranquil rest in Bartok’s dominion.”

Annie looked up, blinking in confusion.

She couldn’t fully grasp the implication of Duncan’s words. In fact, she was still wrestling with understanding the true essence of the towering, enigmatic figure before her.

However, the elderly caretaker by her side did understand, and an epiphany dawned on him.

With a swift motion, the old man placed his hand on Annie’s shoulder, gesturing for her to refrain from further conversation. Then, locking his gaze with Duncan’s, he asked, “Is what you’re asserting… the absolute truth?”

“…I believe it to be so,” Duncan pondered for a moment. He didn’t deeply understand the so-called Bartok’s portal into the afterlife or what the human experience would entail post-death. But standing in front of a child, he recognized the words that needed to be spoken—these were also the sentiments he sincerely harbored, “I personally escorted him to his final journey.”

The elderly caretaker’s pupils dilated briefly, but he was quick to hide any alterations in his countenance.

“I ought to be departing soon,” Duncan announced, casting a glance at Annie, who still appeared somewhat perplexed. He then shifted his gaze back to the cemetery caretaker, “While there is much to discuss, I have numerous obligations waiting for me. There will be other opportunities for us to meet.”

“And remember the letter.”

The elderly caretaker blinked, about to voice a response. However, before he could articulate his thoughts, the spectral green flame disappeared in a swift burst.