THIRD POV
By the time Darren arrived at the ritual ground with the elders behind him, the atmosphere had changed completely.
The air was charged.
The moonlight stretching through the trees looked unnaturally pale against the clearing, illuminating the stone altar where Faye’s body lay motionless beneath the white robe Janet had dressed her in earlier.
No movement.
No breathing.
Nothing.
The blood containers beneath the altar were partially filled now, dark and glistening beneath the moonlight.
The metallic scent lingered thickly in the air.
For a brief moment, even the elders behind Darren fell silent as they took in the sight before them.
Not because they pitied the dead girl.
But because rituals involving death always carried weight, no matter how many times they witnessed one
