The candles burn low, their flames trembling like they know what I’m about to do.
Jason thinks I’m preparing the spell he wants, the same one he forced me to craft when he took Drake. The same one that siphons life, binds the victim, feeds the Hallow piece by piece. He thinks I’m obedient. Broken. Defeated. He’s always underestimated me.
I sit cross‑legged on the cold floor, the spellbook open in front of me. My hands shake as I grind the herbs, mix the powders, draw the sigils. Not from fear, I stopped fearing Jason Moore a long time ago. This tremble is something else. Resolve.
The Hallow stirs in the shadows behind me, a low hum vibrating through the room. It’s hungry. Growing. Waiting for the next offering. Jason believes this spell will give it what it needs. He doesn’t know I’ve c
