Gone is the mark

The night of the eclipse finally arrived, bringing with it a tension that hung over the cabin like a thick fog. Inside, Blake and his companions worked with grim determination to prepare for the ritual that would determine Rose's fate.

In the center of the living room, now cleared of furniture, Dumphries carefully arranged a circle of smooth, dark stones. Each stone was placed with precision, forming a perfect ring large enough to contain Rose's body.

"Remember," Dumphries said, his voice tight with concentration, "once we begin, we cannot stop or alter the ritual in any way. The consequences could be... unpredictable."

Blake nodded grimly, his eyes fixed on Rose's still form. They had moved her from the bedroom, laying her gently in the center of the stone circle. The mark of the Nemisis had spread further, now covering most of her left arm and creeping up her neck like dark vines.