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She can be seen on nights like this. Through the trees, glimpses of her withered face appear and dissolve before I’m even sure of what I saw. Was it her? Or just my eyes playing tricks on me? A shroud covers the path ahead, my feet carry on, drawn into the darkness that quickly consumes me. A crow’s distant cry is the last thing I hear before slipping into unconsciousness. I awoke what seemed like days later, unable to move, unable to speak, only to see her murky eyeballs an inch from my own. I can almost smell the burning flesh as her jet black hair rests against my cheek. I try to free myself once I realize what is happening. She twists her face and reveals black teeth, knowing I can’t escape. A shadowy figure emerges from the corner of the room and suddenly hundreds of candles ignite and fill my vision. They start muttering words I can’t understand. I smell acrid smoke as I breathe my last breath. I realize I’m never leaving. I am a part of their demented praise.