THE RITUAL

The ritual you are about to guide Dahlia through follows a progressive, multi-stage process designed to gradually alter both her body and mind. Each stage builds upon the previous one, intensifying the transformation and corruption she undergoes. While the details of each stage remain mysterious, the fundamental structure of the ritual is rooted in symbolic actions, each of which holds transformative power. HAVE FUN !

The moon hung high above, a silver lantern in the inky sky, casting soft light over the clearing. Dahlia’s sandals crunched gently against the cool grass as she followed the stranger. The night air was crisp and carried a faint scent of blooming wildflowers, oddly serene despite the weight pressing on her heart. She clutched the edge of her robe nervously, her fingers brushing over the smooth trinkets that hung from it—symbols of her faith.

“It’s so pretty out here… Like the stars are putting on a show just for me. Is that bad to think? Shouldn’t I feel… sadder? Ugh, focus, Dahlia. People are suffering, and you’re out here staring at the moon. But it is nice. So peaceful. Maybe that’s a good sign? Yeah, it has to be. The gods wouldn’t make it this beautiful if everything was going to go wrong… right?”

She glanced up at the stranger walking ahead of her, his silhouette tall and confident, the faintest glint of a smile visible in the moonlight. He hadn’t said much since they left the village, but his presence felt both reassuring and unnerving, a strange mix she couldn’t quite pin down.

“He seems so sure of himself. Like he’s done this a hundred times. Maybe that’s good? He said he could help. He has to help. I mean, he’s my only hope, so it’s fine. It’s fine, right? But what if it’s not? No, stop. Don’t think like that, Dahlia. You’re doing this for them. For the village. For everyone who’s counting on you. You can’t mess this up.”

Her grip tightened on the trinkets, and she felt the reassuring weight of the linen robe against her shoulders. A familiar warmth settled in her chest as she took a deep breath.

“It’s not about me. It never is. It’s about them. I’m the priestess; this is what I do. Heal. Help. Make everything better. And if this ritual can save them, then… then it doesn’t matter if it’s scary. Or if it’s dangerous. I’ll do it. I have to.”

Her gaze flicked to the clearing ahead, the soft glow of moonlight illuminating the grass and the faint outline of stones placed in deliberate patterns. It felt sacred and ancient, but there was something else, too—something she couldn’t name. A shiver ran down her spine, though whether it was fear or anticipation, she couldn’t tell.

“It’s beautiful here… but why does it feel so… heavy? Like the air is holding its breath. No, it’s fine. I’m just overthinking. As usual. This is what needs to happen. He said so. And he knows what he’s doing. More than I do, anyway. I’m probably just tired. Yeah, that’s it. Just tired.”

She trailed a few steps behind as they entered the heart of the clearing, her eyes wide as she took it all in. The stranger stopped and turned to her, his gaze steady and expectant. Dahlia swallowed hard, clutching her trinkets one last time before forcing a shaky smile.

“Okay,” she whispered, more to herself than him. “I’m ready. I can do this.”

But as the stranger gestured to the center of the clearing, where the ritual would begin, doubt flickered at the edges of her resolve.

“I think I can do this… I mean, I have to. Right? For them. For everyone. Even if… even if something feels… strange. It’s probably nothing. Yeah. It’s fine. It’s all fine.”

The clearing seemed to hold its breath, waiting. And so did she.