I hope this letter finds you well, and that Hamlet is still safe. I worry about my sigils now that I am in Oakhurst, and you will understand why.
I have arrived safely in Oakhurst—but, brother, something is wrong. It is not as empty as we were told. I have met fourteen other individuals, but none of us are locals. It seems we were all pulled here by some strange force, each with our own goals in mind.
Brother, I do despair over writing these words, but he is here. Somehow. I wish it weren't true, but I know better than anyone that spells don't last forever.
He looked different from what you and the others have told me. He has blue eyes—for now, I must keep track of that.
But that is not all. There are beacons here. Yes, beacons! There is at least one in the centre of town, and there seems to be more out there. I must find them.
What called us here, I wonder? It is frustrating me that I do not know—could you also do some further research of your own into the properties of beacons, outside of their spiritual purification?
I live alone here. Most of the others have paired up—and he already appears to be laying his trap. He lives with a young woman, Shelby, who seems—enthusiastic.
Speaking of enthusiastic—and, brother, I do try and mean this in the kindest way in this instance, but you know what I think of people like these—there is a young man here, almost still a boy, who claims himself to be a vampire hunter. He seems rather amateur. If I could have a word with him about the truth without terrifying him further, then I would, but he seems rather erratic. Paranoid, maybe? I wonder who he's crossed to make him this way...
I should hurry and finish this letter. I'll at least provide a list of the fellows I shall be stuck with these next few days—though it seems many of them plan to stick around here for much longer!
Avid—he's the vampire hunter I told you about.
Doctor Legundo—he's getting on in his years, but not elderly. Perhaps you could ask Old Man Jenkyns if he's heard of a Doctor Legundo, or a man nicknamed 'Legs' from the war? He's of the age where he must have been drafted.
Owen—something about him is strange. He claims to be returning to Oakhurst, yet he does not look much older than myself. I have some concerns I do not wish to voice yet, lest I be incorrect. But how can this be when
Apo—she claims to be in the military, and she has the coat for it.
M—yes, the author of that bafflingly inaccurate book, Twilight. He claims to be here on research. I dread to think I should not be so rude, but sparkling in sunlight? Really?
Renhardt Dogmourne—he claims his tongue was cursed by a witch, causing him to speak with a strange accent. I hadn't heard of that being possible!
Jack von Pyrosycthe—from a university in the Capital, apparently.
Could you perhaps do me a favour and do some research into as many of these individuals as you can? I fear I already ask too much of you sometimes, but you are also my brother. If anyone would be as curious as myself, it would be you. I apologise for the lack of full names—it seems that many of these individuals would prefer to be mononymic for now, including myself! Or maybe some
To close this letter, I say this: I find myself curious about what happened to Oakhurst. Perhaps I shall find out, or one of these new townspeople will. Maybe someone already knows.
Write back soon, with some information if possible?
I dread to add this postscript, but I am glad I did not send Hamlet off with this letter sooner. Brother, I am afraid I may be much longer on my journey than originally planned. It seems Oakhurst will not let us leave. If this letter reaches you, then animals should be fine to pass to and fro. That research on the properties of beacons has become more urgent—prioritise it if you can.
