"Phantom Rebirth: The Last White Raven’s Path to the Ultimate Assassin"

A Whisper in the Night

The moon hung high over the castle, its pale light casting silver streaks over the courtyard below. The night was eerily silent—no wind, no rustling leaves, only the distant hum of nocturnal life.

Seraphis stood alone outside, her white hair flowing gently over her shoulders. Her cloak billowed slightly as she lifted her hand to the sky.

She spoke.

But the words were not of this world.

Her voice carried a melody—soft, ancient, and haunting. It was a song that had not been heard by mortal ears in centuries, a language long forgotten by men.

The Raven Tongue.

Elowen, Sylvaine, and Theia stood behind her, watching in silent reverence.

And then—

The sky stirred.

A low, fluttering sound filled the air.

The Gathering of Ravens

One by one, they came.

From the rooftops, from the trees, from the very darkness itself—ravens filled the sky, their black wings spreading wide as they circled above Seraphis.

Hundreds.

Thousands.

They landed around her—on the railings, the stone walls, even the ground at her feet. Their dark, beady eyes shimmered in the moonlight, staring at her with unwavering attention.

Seraphis lowered her hand, her white eyes glinting as she scanned her feathered messengers.

She reached into her belt and pulled out a piece of raw meat.

She held it up, letting the scent drift among them.

And then she spoke once more.

“My dear ravens.”

The birds tilted their heads in unison, listening.

“Mark a man named Allen the Cannibal. Watch him. Follow him. See everything he does. And when the time is right—let me know.”

A moment of stillness.

Then, as if receiving an unspoken command, the ravens let out a series of low, guttural cries.

She tossed the meat into the air, and the birds descended upon it in a frenzy—tearing, pecking, devouring.

And just as suddenly as they had come—they vanished into the night.

The Meeting Begins

Seraphis turned, her cloak sweeping behind her as she stepped back into the castle.

The great hall was dimly lit, only a few candles flickering against the dark wooden walls. A large round table sat in the center, a map sprawled across its surface.

Elowen leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

Sylvaine sat at the table, sharpening one of her daggers, the rhythmic scraping sound echoing in the quiet.

Theia, standing near the fireplace, finally spoke. “What did you find out?”

Seraphis strode forward, her voice calm yet heavy with meaning.

“A little bird told me what the Ivory Tower is planning.”

She placed her gloved hands on the table, fingers pressing into the parchment.

“They’re sending someone after us.”

Elowen’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

Seraphis’s expression didn’t change. “Allen.”

The room fell into an unnatural silence.

Sylvaine’s dagger stilled. Theia’s breath hitched.

Elowen finally spoke, her voice colder than steel. “Allen the Cannibal.”

Seraphis nodded once.

Theia’s lips parted slightly, but she said nothing at first. Then, her voice dropped. “That… thing is still alive?”

Sylvaine exhaled sharply. “They must be desperate.”

Seraphis pulled out a chair and sat down. “No. They’re not desperate.”

She tapped the map in front of her.

“They’re smart.”

Who Hunts the Hunter?

Sylvaine twirled her dagger between her fingers. “I’ve heard the stories. He doesn’t just kill. He eats them.”

Theia’s voice was quieter now. “They say he… changes after every meal. Becomes stronger.”

Elowen’s gaze darkened. “He doesn’t leave bodies. Just bones.”

Seraphis leaned back in her chair. “And they’re sending him after us.”

No one spoke for a long moment.

Then Elowen smirked. “Good. I was getting bored.”

Seraphis’s lips curled ever so slightly. “As was I.”

Theia, however, did not smile.

She reached into her cloak and pulled out a piece of parchment. She unfurled it slowly, revealing a list of names.

Seraphis glanced at it, then back at Theia. “What is this?”

Theia’s fingers hovered over the names. “These are the ones who conspired against us.”

Sylvaine raised a brow. “More than just the Ivory Hand?”

Theia’s expression darkened. “Much more.”

She slid the parchment across the table. “Ivory Tower was just the beginning.”

Seraphis scanned the list.

The names were many.

Nobles. Lords. Assassins.

People who had placed bounties on them. People who had tried to manipulate them. People who had thought they could control the reapers of the underworld.

They were all marked.

Elowen chuckled. “Looks like we’ll be busy.”

Theia tapped the paper. “We take the tower down together.”

Seraphis’s eyes glowed faintly in the candlelight. “Agreed.”

A Storm is Brewing

Outside the castle walls, the ravens had already taken flight.

Through the dark forests, over rivers, and into the shadows of the cities—they sought their mark.

Allen the Cannibal.

The monster who was sent to hunt them.

But the hunter had already been marked.

And this time, the prey would be watching.