Eric Northman, vampire Sheriff of Area 5 is ordered by the Queen of Louisiana to investigate accusations about a Coven of Necromancers in his area. Witches who control the dead are very dangerous to vampires. He soon discovers his long-lost love is...
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Everything hurt. The cold surface beneath Sookie seemed to penetrate her very skin. She jerked awake, the chill biting into her flesh, only to find her hands and feet restrained. She was spread out, her naked body exposed to the dimly lit, suffocating space. Her struggles against the leather restraints were futile; they held firm, unyielding.
It felt like hours passed before a door slid open and a figure entered. Panic surged through her as she realized the tape over her mouth made it hard to breathe, and a fresh wound continued to bleed. The room's heat was oppressive, beads of sweat dripped from her forehead, echoing the tear-streaked suffering on her face. The musty scent of decay and rot clung to the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood.
Thunder roared outside like a cruel mockery of her plight, and lightning illuminated the features of the once-quaint bedroom—now a desolate prison. The furniture, draped in dust, seemed ready to crumble. Molding walls bore witness to the passage of time, and portraits of past occupants hung, eyes vacant and judgmental.
Then she saw it—Arlene's mutilated remains on the floor, a grotesque piece of flesh gnawed by rats beneath her vacant, lifeless gaze. The stench churned Sookie's stomach, turning terror into nausea.
Another familiar face appeared, but hope quickly dissipated. "Glad to see you're awake," he said with unsettling cheerfulness. "I need to get rid of her," he remarked, grimacing at Arlene's rotten corpse. The realization hit Sookie: he was her tormentor, the orchestrator of all her suffering.
"What do you want? Why are you doing this? Why did you kill Arlene?" she screamed through the gag, but her words were muffled by the tape.
"We need you to suffer," he replied casually, a sinister pleasure in his voice. "It's the only way to be anointed. My sister has been overlooked too long. She believes her time has come."
Despair engulfed her. "I want to go home," she cried, though she knew escape was impossible; she had seen too much. His words dripped with malice: "Soon you'll wish for death," he taunted, eyes glinting with perverse excitement.
Sookie's desperate call for help went unanswered as another familiar face entered, eyes glazed and detached. She clutched a serrated dagger, a tool for ritual sacrifice. As the woman sliced her own palm, she screamed an invocation to an unseen force, casting fear like a net over the room.
"Your turn," she said to the man and she left the room.
Sookie watched as he reached out and touched her hip before he started to grope her all over.
"Please stop! This isn't you!" she begged as he continued to grope. He pulled down his pants before climbing on the table next to her. The man she'd known for as long as she could remember started to look over her and seemingly examine her before reaching down and rubbing between her legs.
"NO please no!" she begged to try to get a response out of him but he only looked at her with his glazed-over eyes.
Stop! Please!" she screamed at the top of her lungs as the man entered her, thrusting.
Her tears had started to make a puddle around her head as she begged him to stop. Her voice was hoarse from all the screaming. As he continued to thrust his thrusts became stronger and faster causing a knot to form in his gut. Her screams prompted the man to go faster. He let out a wicked laugh as he began to orgasm.
"OH YEAH!" He groaned, shuddering with pleasure as he came. A moment later, he rolled off of her, and without a word, he walked out of the room.
Now, the woman who Sookie thought was a friend stood over her again, placing a deceptively gentle hand on her head, stroking her blonde locks. Sookie whimpered helplessly.
"Please..." she whimpered.
The woman's eyes held no humanity, "Qhubris, take this charmed one unto thee!" she began to chant while holding a Sacrificial Knife, or the Sacrificial Orb, used for the Blood Altar ritual. The Sacrificial Knife is used to take a gift from the witch and transfer it to the owner of the knife. Fear pain and death are demanded.
"AHHHHH," Sookie's cry pierced the air as steel met flesh. The dagger twisted, splitting her skin, ripping deeper with each turn. Pain and fear fueled their perverse enthusiasm, a grotesque ballet of agony as the woman chanted.
"Qhubris, take this charmed one unto thee!" The woman smeared the dripping blood over her body, her laughter a cruel taunt. Sookie's screams were a symphony of suffering, echoing in the shadowed room.
With mechanical detachment, the woman stabbed the dagger into Sookie's chest, driving the blade deeper with each thrust until only the hilt remained visible. Sookie gasped, convulsing, blood cascading from the gaping wound. Her life spilled in torrents, painting the ritual in crimson hues. Ecstasy lit the woman's face as she declared her ambition to become Supreme.
As she left, she ordered, "Get the smelly one out, we need room for that bitch Holly." The sweet tang of blood-tingling in her nostrils, she licked her lips with bliss.
