Agatha took out the whistleblower's letter — a piece of correspondence that, at first glance, seemed to be written on the most common stationery, enveloped by a local Frost factory product, and even used very ordinary ink. It was delivered to her from Cemetery No. 3, and honestly, if she hadn't known that the old guard wouldn't play such a prank on her, Agatha would never have believed that this thing actually came from an indescribable, superior Transcendent being.
She even found herself unable to sense any Transcendent power from the letter — but after a few simple tests, she had confirmed that it indeed was the work of that superior Transcendent.
From the gloomy coffin, there came a sound of fabric rubbing together, and the heavy lid finally opened slowly, accompanied by a peculiar fragrance. A body, wrapped in bandages like a mummy, slowly rose.