For a moment, the weight of her words hung between them. Sheriffdeen felt the betrayal in her voice, the grief she hadn’t let go of, and the fear that now seemed to surge through her every word.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" Sheriffdeen asked, his voice soft but edged with frustration. "I would’ve helped you."

“I thought I could escape it,” Radeeyah whispered. “But now the mist is back. It’s hungry, Sheriffdeen. And it’s coming for me.”

Just then, a distant sound broke through the tension—a low, guttural growl. Sheriffdeen’s hand instinctively moved to his sidearm. They weren’t alone anymore. The mist seemed to pulse with an energy of its own, as though it were alive, aware of their presence.

“There it is,” Radeeyah said, her voice tight with fear but resolute. “We’re close.”

They moved faster now, the mist parting just enough for them to see the silhouette of the old church in the distance. It looked even more decrepit than Sheriffdeen remembered, its once-sturdy structure now cracked and overgrown with vines. The door stood ajar, a faint glow flickering from within, as though something—or someone—was waiting for them.

As they approached, Sheriffdeen could feel the air grow colder, heavier. He paused for a moment, catching sight of movement in the fog. Dark shapes, indistinct but menacing, began to shift between the trees. Shadows, half-formed and half-seen, reaching out like claws.

“Stay close,” he ordered, his voice low.

Radeeyah nodded, her hand reaching into the folds of her coat and pulling out a small, weathered book. It was covered in strange symbols—symbols Sheriffdeen recognized from his childhood, from stories his grandmother used to tell him. Old, cryptic warnings about things that should never be disturbed.

“The Seal,” she said, holding the book out for him to see. "My family was keeping it locked away, but there’s a ritual. A way to bind it again—if we can get to the heart of it before the entity fully awakens."

They entered the church, the heavy wooden door creaking loudly as it swung open. Inside, the flickering glow came from a circle of old candles arranged around an altar—an altar that was disturbingly familiar. Sheriffdeen’s heart skipped a beat as he realized what it was: the place where Radeeyah’s family had made their pact all those years ago.

But as they stepped deeper into the church, Sheriffdeen felt the temperature drop further. A low hum filled the room, growing louder with each passing second.

Then, they heard it—a voice, distant and faint, but unmistakable.

"Radeeyah."

She froze, her face draining of color. Sheriffdeen turned to look at her. “What is it?”

The voice echoed again, but this time, it was clear. It wasn’t just any voice—it was her father’s.

“Father?” Radeeyah whispered, a tremor in her voice.

“No,” Sheriffdeen said, grabbing her arm. “It’s not him. It’s not real.”

But Radeeyah shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek. "It *is* him. It's… trying to lure me back."

Suddenly, the mist that had followed them into the church began to swirl violently, and the candles flickered out one by one. Shadows in the form of twisted, human-like figures emerged from the walls, their faces contorted with agony.

Sheriffdeen pulled Radeeyah back, his gun raised. But the shadows weren’t fazed by the weapon. They moved like smoke, drifting toward them with an unnatural speed.

“Radeeyah, now!” he shouted. “The ritual—do it now!”

Will the ritual be a successful one? Let's wait and see what happens in the next one