Two skulls.
Two skulls with a heartbeat that should not have existed.
One blood eagles—twisted symbols of vengeance, wings carved open, bones bare under the cruel sky.
But it wasn't enough.
Not even close.
There were seven girls.
Seven innocent lives taken. Seven futures robbed. Seven souls cast aside like refuse. Their deaths weren't accidents. They weren't casualties of chaos. They were offerings made by monsters—devoured piece by piece, breath by breath, in the filth of that demon's den.
So no—two skulls wouldn't be enough.
I needed seven.
Seven skulls with beating hearts.
Seven blood eagles, each one staring back at them in frozen despair. A mirror to the helplessness the girls must have felt as they were torn apart and forgotten. I wanted their eyes wide open. Their mouths agape in silent screams. I wanted the blood they spilled to answer for the blood they had taken.
And then—one more.
The demon's skull.
Not just another skull. His. The one that mattered more than the rest. The centerpiece. The final key to the ritual. The monster who sat atop the rot, pretending to rule it. His size alone demanded reverence—if not in life, then in death. He was large. He was loud. He thought he was untouchable.
So I would make sure his end was unforgettable.
He would be the last.
The final skull.
The anchor for all the pain left behind.
And once I had them all—once I had their hearts beating in silence, their bones hollowed and screaming—I would return to the girls. And I would give them what the world never did.
A proper burial.
Not one built on tradition or religion or law. Not one with priests or eulogies. But one of blood. Of reckoning. One built on the truth of what was taken from them.
I still had five skulls left to take.
Six more blood eagles to carve.
Five more pieces of breathing trash to strip of humanity.
Six more who needed to face the same horror they gave.
And I would get them.
Because the other ingredients—the final pieces—they were standing there now. Watching. Staring. Like they weren't next. Like they didn't know the cost was coming.
The scum. The ones who watched the demon work.
The ones who laughed.
The ones who looked away.
The ones who heard the screams and walked past them.
Whether their hands had blood on them or just silence, it didn't matter.
They played a part.
They helped build the world that killed those girls.
So now they would help unmake it.
Their blood. Their bones. Their terror. All of it would feed the ritual. Not as vengeance. But as balance. As a statement to the sea, to the sky, to the gods—if any were still listening—that these seven were not forgotten.
I looked down at the two skulls in my hand. They pulsed still, like they were waiting. The blood eagles behind me hung in grotesque silence, their shadows long in the sun.
I needed more.
And I would get it.
Just wait a little longer, I whispered—not to the scum, but to the girls.
Wait just a bit more.
I will return.
Not with apologies.
Not with empty tears.
But with justice in flesh and bone.
With pieces of the monsters who took everything from you.
Wait a bit more.
Until I bring you the rest of what's needed.
Until this cursed ritual is whole.
And your peace is finally earned.