Seth bent down and absorbed the sins of the three dead people one by one.
The process was familiar to him by now.
Heavy, foul sensations flowed into his body, like mud dragged through his veins.
Hatred, greed, obsession—twisted beliefs layered together into something rotten.
He accepted them all without hesitation, feeling no remorse as he did so.
These people had targeted innocent lives for their ritualistic beliefs.
They had chosen their path willingly.
Seth had long since learned that mercy given to people like this only created more victims.
When the last trace of sin settled, he straightened his back and let out a slow breath.
As he stood up to leave, a thought gave him pause.
He looked at the scene—the bodies, the dumpster, the malicious poem laying on the ground.
He looked down as he pondered over something deeply.
He picked up the cheap pen that had been dropped earlier.
