Page 68 of The Hellkeeper

I don’t pray to the Hellkeeper.

I pray to Damien.

Please.

Please come.

Please burn them all.

“Step back.” Elder Gideon stands at the edge of the fire, his hand raised, his presence alone enough to make them obey. All they ever do is obey; like sheep following monsters and calling them righteous.

“For generations, we have shielded you from the truth,” Elder Tobias begins. “We never let you witness the sacrifices. Not because we were ashamed, but because we did not want fear to drive you to foolishness.”

They listen, hanging on his every word.

“But tonight… tonight, you will watch.” His eyes sweep over the gathered crowd, taking in their reactions. “Because of her, you must. She proved to you that no one can run from their fate.”

The elders circle me like vultures, their robes whispering against the dirt as they chant.

“The Hellkeeper waits below.

The flames cleanse the wicked soul.

Blood will spill, fire will rise.”

Their voices rise in unison, eyes rolling back like they are possessed.

“The lost will burn, the faithful remain.

The Hellkeeper’s wrath will be tamed.”

They circle me a few more times, chanting in tongues before falling silent.

Is this it? Is it over?

“Lift her up,” Elder Gideon commands the men who dragged me here.

They move me toward the massive tree standing before the fire pit. My body fights even as my spirit fractures, but they force my arms above my head, lashing the chains tight to a thick branch. The heat licks at my feet. Too close.

They’re going to dangle me. Hold me over the flames like a pig on a spit. Let me burn alive, slowly, so every girl in this village understands…this is the only fate.

There is no escape.

There is no mercy.

There is only fire.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Damien

Idrive like a man possessed. Because I am.

The road blurs, trees melting into shadows. I can hear her. Feel her. Every scream. Every sob. It carves out my sanity, bleeds me dry. They’re hurting her. My little flower. My angel. And I will make them pay.

I taste blood. My own. I’ve been grinding my teeth so hard my gums have split, the iron tang flooding my tongue. But I welcome the pain. It feeds me. Fuels me. Prepares me for what I’m about to do.

The moment I hear the chanting, I know I’ve arrived in Hell.

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