Armani jerks and the knife drops from his hand. He’s dead before his body hits the ground. Hemslock keeps his gun trained on the fallen man, inching closer.

“Fuck,” he says without any emotion.

Askal growls quietly. I place a hand on his head to stop him from making more noise.

“What do we do now, sir?” one of the men asks.

“One of you go to Galant’s cabin and grab the biggest blankets you can find. We’re bringing him to the cave.”

“What? Why—”

“I don’t pay you to ask questions, Dalton. Get to it.”

When he returns, at Hemslock’s instructions, the men bundle up the body and head out.

“Return to the others,” I tell Chase and Gries.

“Alon,” Chase begins.

“Trust me.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he nods reluctantly.

I follow the soldiers. Askal tags behind me.

They bring the body to the cave. I discreetly follow them inside and crouch behind a rock. I watch as they unwrap Armani and hoist him onto the altar, splaying his arms and legs over the small holes carved into the stone.

Hemslock bends over the corpse. He takes out his knife.

“What are you doing?” one of the soldiers asks. “What…”

He falls silent, seemingly stunned, as Hemslock begins his bloody work. The rest of his men fall back, several looking sickened, as Hemslock cuts into the corpse’s chest.

Finally Hemslock lifts his hands, holding a bloody heart.

“He who offers the sacrifice,” Hemslock quotes, “controls the Godseye.”

Askal bares his teeth but makes no sound. I brace myself.

Armani’s body jerks without warning, his back arching. Some of the men swear; all train their guns back on the altar.

Armani’s mouth falls open, jaw loose. His fingers curl, stiffen.

And then his body is sucked into the stone, through the opening at the center of the altar. With horrible, cracking noises of bones breaking, flesh is forced through the too-small crevice, the corpse’s back and waist bending unnaturally to fit. The guards fall back, watching in horror as the body slowly disappears. Armani’s head is the last to be yanked through, grinding loudly against the rock as it grates into the tight space.

For an instant, I could have sworn that Armani’s remaining eye opened one final time to stare at Hemslock. Something reaches up from inside the hole and wraps around his head. I remember the strange plants we’ve encountered, the ones whose flesh peels back and writhes like makahiya, with an eye at their centers.

And then Armani is gone, leaving only bloodstains in his wake.

Hemslock drops the heart down into the hole after Armani. It disappears into the nothingness.

“I told you this shit is real,” he says. A wide smile stretches across his face. “Do you believe me now?”

He raises his arm, folding his fingers onto his palm. As if in answer, the makahiya growing quietly along the sides of the altar mimic his movements, closing and opening.

“The god has accepted my offering,” Hemslock says. “Two more sacrifices to go.”