The room stood still after Matthew plummeted to the floor. All at once, his life seemed to have come to an abrupt stop perhaps not yet, but a harrowing terror loomed in the air.
Mary stood over his motionless body, firm and determined. There was no turning back now. Yet, a faint hint of doubt flickered in her eyes as she looked at Matthew.
She couldn't hold back her inner thoughts any longer and let out a soft whisper.
"I'm sorry it's going to end like this, but there really was no other way."
Biting her lip, she continued, "But at least I can leave you with a new life instead. Maybe you can be happy then."
She turned her head away, forcing herself to regain focus on her mission. Looking down at Matthew's legs, she grabbed them, positioning herself between them to drag him into the next room the place where the ritual would take place.
The room was as Mary had left it before: bare and empty. But now, in the center of the open space, a ritual circle awaited. She placed Matthew in the middle, then separated his limbs, positioning them into their proper places within the circle. Spread apart evenly, he looked like a man offered up to some ancient, dark rite.
Mary reached for the ritual book and dagger as she steeled herself for what was to come. The air felt cold and dry not even a single speck of dust stirred. It was as if time itself were absent. She leaned forward and lit the six candles around the circle, each one marking a root point of the ritual. Kneeling over Matthew's body, she opened the book and began to read.
In an instant, the world turned dark as her voice rose in a steady chant. The only light came from the flickering yellow glow of the candles, but even they began to succumb to the corrupting energy of the ethereal force. A sickly purple and deep crimson light seeped into the flames, twisting their warmth into something cold and malevolent.
With one hand gripping the dagger, Mary continued chanting as she plunged the blade deep into Matthew's chest. Her strength seemed inhuman, as though the ritual itself were empowering her. She dragged the dagger down, opening a cavity in his chest. Then, without hesitation, her hand plunged inside, gripping his heart still faintly alive, oozing blood mixed with a dark, viscous purple sludge.
The sludge was the effect of the liquid from the vial Mary had used earlier. The crucial moment had arrived. She set the book beside Matthew and held his heart in one hand, letting blood drip into the other. Glancing at the notebook, she carefully copied the symbols from the page onto Matthew's flesh.
As Mary completed each marking, the dormant power leaking from the book grew stronger. The corrupted light intensified, the purple glow pushing the warmth of the candles aside until it consumed the entire room.
Once she finished inscribing the symbols on Matthew's body, she moved to the final stage. Six marks remained to be carved but not on Matthew. This time, they would be carved onto herself.
She placed Matthew's heart back inside his lifeless chest, then gripped the dagger tightly. She began with her left forearm, slicing the first sigil deep into her flesh. Then she moved to the right. Despite the pain, Mary's face stayed stern, unwavering. She was utterly undeterred as if the only path left was forward.
There was no way back now.
Her thighs and forehead came next. Her eyes grew bloodshot, tears streaking down her face, yet her hands did not falter. Her breathing turned ragged and shallow, but still, she pressed on. Finally, she pressed the blade to her abdomen, slicing open her skin, carving the last circular symbol into her chest. A sharp gasp escaped her lips, her body shaking, but she forced herself onward even as her strength waned.
Blood dripped from her lips as she bit down, eyes squeezed shut. With both hands, she drove the dagger deeper into her chest, where her heart still beat.
The room erupted. Winds whipped through the chamber, ferocious and unrelenting, as if the dark energy had been held back too long. It threatened to spiral out of control. Mary was running out of time.
Not yet… she thought.
Just a little bit longer…
I'm almost there.
It was time for the final offering her own heart. She widened the wound with the dagger, her hands trembling, then reached inside. She coughed violently, spewing great clots of blood. Though her chest still heaved, her lungs burned and her strength was slipping away. Her vision dulled with every passing second, the world narrowing into shadow.
She placed the book atop Matthew's open chest cavity, sealing it halfway. Then she tore out her own heart, lifting it above the book. Squeezing, she let its blood and purple sludge drizzle onto the pages. As she whispered the final incantation words not meant to exist in this world, words no human ear could ever understand her voice broke into silence.
Mary collapsed lifelessly atop Matthew, leaving behind a gruesome scene: his mutilated corpse beneath her mangled body, bound together in death.
The room went silent. Then, still. Unnervingly still.
For a heartbeat, it was as though nothing had happened.
Then the purple glow returned. It spread across Matthew's body, the markings radiating with unnatural light. The glow crawled inward, brighter and brighter, until it reached Mary's carved sigils. Her body flared with light.
In an instant, both corpses and the book erupted into a brilliant violet blaze before vanishing altogether.
The world went dark again.
This time, it was final.
No one would ever know what had happened in that room.
But it no longer mattered. The ritual was complete. The border between worlds had been crossed.
A new world.
A new life.
What would the future hold?