Chapter 8 - Return to the Altar
They were back at the Black Pine Chapel, but the building looked drastically different.
The rotten wood was gone, replaced by pristine dark timber, and light flickered through stained glass windows.
"The chapel is pulling itself back to the night of the ritual," Old Noah said, pulling a heavy brass key from his coat.
"We have twenty minutes before 3:17 a.m. hits again."
"If we don't open the true well beneath the altar, Clara will consume this entire decade."
They kicked open the heavy double doors of the chapel, stepping into a sanctuary filled with cold vapor.
Sitting in the pews were dozens of townspeople, motionless, their eyes wide open and entirely black.
At the front altar stood a small girl in a yellow dress, her back turned to them.
She was brushing her long hair with a silver comb, singing a nursery rhyme in reverse.
May you like
"Noah," she whispered without turning around.
"You brought another piece of yourself for me to break."
