Chapter 2 – Ritual And Reckoning
Joseph's head throbbed as he returned to consciousness. A heavy scent of burning herbs and earth filled his nose. The first thing he registered was the rhythmic drumming—a deep, pulsing sound that vibrated through his very bones. The villagers surrounded him in a loose circle, their voices raised in a strange, hypnotic chant. Shadows flickered wildly across their faces, cast by the massive bonfire in the center.
He lay on a thin mat, the woven fibers pressing against his back. His breath quickened as confusion clouded his thoughts. Then, the memories surged back.
Goat blood.
His stomach twisted violently.
Joseph's eyes darted around. He was trapped, surrounded by people caught up in their ritual. He couldn't run. Even if he did, where would he go? He had no idea where he was—no idea how to survive in this world.
The crowd parted as the old woman approached, her silhouette towering over him. She clutched a small wooden bowl, and the thick, metallic scent of blood wafted into his nostrils. The villagers' movements grew more fevered, their feet kicking up dust as they danced in frantic ecstasy.
Joseph swallowed hard. The air itself felt heavier with every step she took. His throat clenched, his breaths came fast and shallow, and his heart slammed against his ribs.
I can't do this. I can't do this.
The old woman reached him. Without hesitation, she smeared a thick, pungent paste across his forehead. Her rough fingers gripped his chin, tilting his face up as she muttered her incantations. The moment stretched endlessly, her voice wrapping around him like an invisible force.
Then she pressed the bowl into his hands.
Joseph hesitated. His fingers trembled as he looked inside.