They came for Eleanor, two towering natives with glistening muscles and jagged bone necklaces grabbed her by both arms, their fingers digging into her flesh as they dragged her toward the bloodstained altar. She kicked and twisted, her heels scraping against the stone, her voice hoarse with panic.
"No! Let me go! Don't touch me!" she screamed, trying to dig her feet into the ground, trying to find anything to grip.
The crowd only grew louder, their chants rising in fevered rhythm with the pounding of the drums. Their painted faces—masked in bone-white streaks and dyed leaves—looked more like demons than people. Eyes wide, mouths open, teeth bared in ritual ecstasy as they prepared to feast again.
Sophia turned her head, unable to bear the sight. Mariel shut her eyes, shaking silently, lips moving in a prayer to gods she wasn't sure existed.
And Liam—Liam couldn't take it.
"ELEANOR!!"
His voice tore through the chanting like thunder, raw and full of fury.
