Unfamiliar chants, uttered in a language foreign to Nicole's ears, resonated hauntingly throughout the valley.

From Nicole's current vantage point, clarity eluded her.

Determined to unravel the mysteries shrouded within the ritual, Nicole resolved to find a way to approach closer, navigating the shadows with silent determination.

As Nicole heard Emerie's unmistakable voice, indicating Emerie's proximity to the front row, a surge of determination pulsed through Nicole's veins. If Emerie was present, Roscoe couldn't be far.

Observing the witches rise and move toward the fire in preparation for the impending ritual, Nicole swiftly formulated a plan of action.

With unwavering resolve, Nicole drew her knife and pressed it against the throat of the last witch in line, her voice a low, menacing whisper. "Not a sound, or your life is forfeit."

The targeted witch, clearly a subordinate member, froze in terror at the sudden threat, recognizing the grave danger she faced. It was evident this witch lacked Emerie's authority.

Nicole wasted no time, delivering a swift blow to this witch's neck, rendering the latter unconscious. Seizing the opportunity afforded by the distraction, she dragged the unconscious witch to a secluded alcove, appropriating the witch's cloak to conceal her identity.

Fortuitously, the darkness and the wide cloak rendered Nicole nearly invisible as she mingled in the patch of witches.

It was soon her turn to advance. Keeping her head down, Nicole moved with other witches toward the bonfire, where many had gathered to form a large circle. The chief chanted a phrase, echoed by the witches.

Nicole lip-synced the words, her eyes darting around cautiously.

Seizing a moment of distraction, she glanced at the stage. The chief spoke fervently, and beside her on a crescent-shaped altar, a figure was tied in the shape of a "his head drooping, seemingly lifeless."

Nicole's heart stopped. She stared up, mouth agape, at the figure on the stage. It was Roscoe, the man who had helped her escape. How had he ended up as the sacrifice in the ritual? Emerie had claimed that not everyone was fit to be a sacrifice. And Roscoe was a man! How could he meet the criteria...

Confused and dazed, Nicole stood motionless, her eyes glued on Roscoe.

As if sensing her gaze, Roscoe glanced over.

Among the sea of red-robed witches, Nicole's stillness caught the eye.

Roscoe spotted Nicole right away. Then, a witch behind Nicole bumped into her and glanced up, noting Nicole's face unfamiliar.

The witch was just about to open her mouth to speak, but a loud crash from the altar interrupted her. Roscoe thrashed, toppling the cross to which he was bound.

The assembly froze, their attention snapped to the stage.

Emerie, spotting the chaos, commanded, “No speaking out of turn. Continue!"