Hatchetfield.

The Old Waylon Place burns.

The flames illuminated the sky, a cloaked figure silhouetted against the burning house.

"I will pray for you..." She sang, her voice melancholic, the only other sounds being the crackle of fire, and the Old Waylon place falling apart.

"Even though your bodies gone..." She gripped the tank of gasoline in her hands, the only thing grounding her to reality at this point.

"Is this the consequence of what we've done?" Tears fell from her eyes, as she looked up at the house that caused so much pain, so much death. A small smile spread on her face, as the house was enveloped in flames.

"You were never a loser.." She turned away from the building, as her song commenced. Her robes dragged along the ground beneath her, as she dawned a mask.

They were never losers, they weren't nerdy prudes, but they lost everything, and they have a debt to repay if they want it back.

The Old Waylon Place crumbled in the flames, in the morning, ash would cover the ground where it once stood. No one tried to stop it burning, like somehow, they knew this was right, that this is how it's story ends. But the story that the inhabitants of the house created was far from over.

A book bound in black leather sat in Grace Chastity's backpack.