he memory of the last. The last time, the smoke

began. I managed to craft a "Gris-Gris" bag for my deceased grandmother's spirit, a desperate act of remembrance.

Ethan. I brought them into my sanctuary, sharing my meticulously gathered

me by pushin

sh from my arm. I screamed for them to open the door, but they just watched through the sh

od like a dog while they feasted on my supplies. They laughed and pos

needed their tech, their laptops and phones, from the mansion. He said it was th

s to retrieve their stupid gadgets. I returned, ba

allowed Space. Maria held me down while Ethan explai

with a sick excitement, "It can strengthen the

n, my blood, to fortify their stolen sanctuary. My final mo

rn. And this time, I