Page 105 of Into the Dark, We Go

I shook my head, the motion making me dizzy with pain. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Without another word, one of Robert’s companions stepped forward, his fists clenched and ready. The blows that followed were relentless, each one like a deadly drumbeat. The chair cracked beneath me, splintering like kindling as I was thrown to the floor, my body shattered, broken.

"I swear, we don’t have it!" I spat from bloodied teeth. "She was looking for it, too!"

Robert grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head up with an unforgiving grip. "Who. Is. She?"

"Mathilda!"

Robert released me, and my face slammed back into the floor.

I was sobbing, exhausted, begging for it all to be over. But my prayers weren’t heard.

"Alright," Lucas’s father said calmly, "It’s almost time."

Just then, a man appeared. His heavy boots echoed through the barn. I could barely lift my head before I gasped. The man’sface was now concealed by a bizarre mask—a deer skull with antlers.

"No! No!" I screamed again.

Strong hands dragged me out to the clearing. The men now all wore similar stag skulls, their empty sockets staring into my very soul. I shook violently, thrashed in horror. I knew what they were about to do. I was about to find out firsthand exactly what had happened to Lucas and to all those before him.

In the next moment, I was pushed towards the altar, my tied arms forced upwards.

"Please, no!" I cried, choking on my sobs. My body trembled against the cold stone.

The rope above my head tightened, securing my arms in place. Someone approached from behind, and they grabbed and ripped my shirt, the fabric tearing with a harsh sound. Rough hands made contact with my bare skin, and I shuddered with revulsion.

"Stop, please," I yelled, tears blurring my vision. One of the masked men held my head down on the stone, his grip unyielding.

In the fringes of my sight, they moved around me like silent shadows, each step deliberate. They must have done this countless times.

Robert reached into the fire with a gloved hand, pulling out a glowing object that shimmered with a malevolent heat. It looked like a branding iron. My breath caught in my throat.

"No!" I squealed, my body twisting in panic.

Too late.

Pain exploded across my upper back, just below my shoulder blade. The skin sizzled and crackled, the heat so intense I thought I might burn away. The stench of my flesh made me gag. My skin melted under the weight of the iron, the searing heatbiting down to bone. My vision blurred as the pain reached its peak, a white-hot fire consuming me from the inside out.

And then, just as suddenly, it was over. The grip on my arms and body loosened, and the world around me felt distant, as though I was floating above it. They stepped back, their presence looming but insignificant now.

I lay there, helpless on the altar, my body twitching with agony, my cries echoing into the emptiness.

Powerless, alone.

It was done.

I managed to lift my head. They stood in line, a few feet away, their stag masks glowing with an eerie life in the flickering flames.

Robert gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "It’s alright. It saw her."

One of the masked men stepped forward, and before I could draw breath, they seized me and hauled me off. My ripped shirt hung in tatters around my arms, my bare back pulsing against the open air. The fire in my chest ignited, and with what little strength I had left, I slammed my elbow into his jaw. The impact was satisfying, but only for a moment. He retaliated instantly with a brutal blow to my head.

But it was enough. I broke free and bolted, spurred by pure adrenaline.

Into the dark, I went.

Panic smotheredme as I sprinted through the forest, branches lashing at my face like whips, roots leering out to trip me. I had no idea where I was or where I was going, only that I had to keep going. The forest floor exhaled a moist, loamy breath, heavy with decay. The desolate woods stirred with anguish—animals howling and trees groaning. And there wasanother presence: a vibration, a constant, low-pitched hum, like the earth itself was moaning.