Night didn't end.
The group took shelter inside the principal's office, locking the doors with chairs, desks, anything they could move. The shadows pressed against the frosted glass. Whispers drifted through the vents. Not words—names.
Their names.
They took turns staying awake. Or tried to. But exhaustion clawed at them.
By morning—if you could call it that—the sky outside was still black. Barto sat in a corner, eyes unmoving, staring at the wall. He hadn't blinked in a while.
Ellie tapped at her keyboard, barely able to stay focused. "I searched every town record I could scrape up. Nothing digital. No records past 1990. Like they wiped the town's history clean."
John paced back and forth. "Then we check it manually. Paper files. A library. A church. Anything."
"There's an abandoned records hall behind the church," Dami said. "No one goes there. We passed it the first night—"
He stopped.
"…Back when there was still a night and day."
Sofia looked toward the window. "Do we even know what we're looking for?"
"Yes," Barto finally said. "Graves. Names. A reason."
Ellie turned the laptop to them again. "Remember the town photo? Look closely." She zoomed in on the far right, where a small sign was partially visible beside the town hall.
It read: "Do not disturb the circle. He watches the cracks."
Bryan snorted. "That's not cryptic at all."
"'The circle,'" Barto repeated. "A ritual site."
"A sacrifice site," Sofia corrected. Her voice was low.
They headed out, this time with flashlights and makeshift weapons—metal poles, broomsticks, a fire extinguisher. The town's silence was suffocating. Doors were closed. Curtains drawn. People peeking through blinds, but no one speaking.
The church stood tall at the center of the town, cracked and leaning. Its bell was missing. The cross at the top had melted into the stone like it'd been burned by something unholy.
Inside, the air was cold and sharp. The pews were empty, coated in dust. Barto led them to the back, where a locked trapdoor marked "RECORDS" waited beneath a rug.
Bryan pried it open.
A rush of cold air escaped, bringing with it a sharp scent—blood and old wood.
They descended into the darkness.
The records room was a mess of toppled shelves and broken glass. But the files were still there. Dozens of folders. Names. Birth dates. Death dates.
Sofia picked one up. "This says… 'Class B Candidates. March 1997.'" She read another. "'October 2001 – Unsuccessful Offering.'"
"They kept records of the sacrifices," John said, voice hollow.
Ellie picked up a thick leather-bound book labeled 'The Circle Log.' She flipped it open and froze.
"Guys… Lila's name is in here."
Everyone turned.
"Lila Adeyemi. Accepted March 12th. Sacrifice failed."
Dami read over her shoulder. "Her name was chosen? But she was alive until just days ago."
Ellie shook her head. "This wasn't her first time here. She was brought back. This town… it loops people."
Suddenly, the lights flickered. The temperature dropped again.
Then came the sound.
A scream.
From upstairs.
High-pitched. Short. Cut off.
"Rose!" Sofia shouted.
They bolted up the steps, but the church was silent again.
No sign of Rose.
Just her flashlight, rolling on the floor by the altar.
Blood smeared across the tiles.
Barto bent down and touched it. Still warm.
Then they all noticed something above the altar.
Carved into the wall in fresh, wet strokes:
"NINE REMAIN."
John backed away, breathing hard. "We were ten…"
"She was taken," Barto said quietly. "They're counting down."
Sofia's voice trembled. "And the town's letting it happen."
Ellie slammed the journal shut. "We can't keep running. The sacrifices won't stop. Not unless we destroy the circle itself."
Barto nodded. "Then we end it. Tonight."
But in the woods beyond the church, the man with no voice stood beneath the trees.
Watching.
Smiling.
Waiting.