The Echo Of Ashes.

Chapter 3: The Symphony of Suffering The disbelief did not last. Over the next forty-eight hours, the cabin transformed from a rustic retreat into a slaughterhouse of the supernatural. The curse of Margarita was no longer a legend; it was a physical, agonizing reality. It began in the kitchen, a mundane setting for a monstrous end. Marcus was reaching for a glass when his hand suddenly spasmed, the glass shattering against the floor. He didn't swear. He didn't move. He simply stood there, his fingers clawing at the air as if trying to grasp an invisible lifeline. "Guys..." he wheezed, the sound like air escaping a punctured tire. "Something's... wrong." Jake, Clara, Sarah, and Eliza rushed to the doorway, their faces pale. Marcus’s skin was rapidly darkening, a bruised, necrotic purple spreading from his chest upward. His eyes began to bulge, the white sclera turning a vivid, bloodshot red as the pressure inside him mounted. Then came the sound—a sound that would haunt their nightmares forever. It was the wet, rhythmic snap-crack-pop of bone being pulverized. With a final, wet THUD, Marcus’s sternum collapsed entirely. His body folded in on itself like a discarded marionette, dropping to the floor in a heap of shattered bone and ruined flesh. The silence that followed was broken by a collective, horrified gasp. Clara was the one whose SCREAM echoed, a raw, desperate sound that tore through the quiet. Her eyes were fixed on the ruin of Marcus, her mind unable to process the impossible sight. She bolted for the front door, slamming her body against the thick wood, hammering her fists against it in a desperate, futile attempt to get the hell out. Sarah stumbled backward, her hand flying to her mouth. A moment later, she doubled over, retching violently onto the wooden floor, the smell of bile mixing with the metallic tang of blood. Jake was so shocked that he froze, staring at the pool of blood, not knowing what had happened. He didn't move until Clara's frantic, panicked banging on the door became a desperate, rhythmic plea. Snapping out of his trance, he rushed to her, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her towards the couch. Eliza was pacing back and forth in the kitchen, her movements jerky and mechanical, like she was in a trance or something, completely detached from the horror surrounding her. Sarah, no longer the same after the vomit, staggered into the sitting room. She came up to Jake and burst out, her voice raw with terror, "What happened, Jake?" Jake could only shake his head, his voice failing him. "I... I don't know. I don't know what that was." The four of them sat in the sitting room, faces full of horror, until Jake stood up, his face grim, a terrible resolve hardening his features. "We have to bury him," Jake said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "What the fuck!!!" Sarah exploded, jumping to her feet. "Are you insane?" "How can we do that?" Eliza said, her eyes wide with renewed horror. "We just have to, guys," Jake cut her off, his voice rising in pitch. "And pretend like this never happened." "You’re joking right?" Clara finally spoke, her voice shaky but laced with disbelief. "Marcus is there laying in a pool of blood and you want us to pretend like it never happened?" "What do we do then?" Jake challenged, his eyes burning with fear. "I can’t go to jail. We can’t go to jail. So let’s do this then. We’ll find a way to leave this place. Nobody will know." The fear of the law, the fear of being blamed for the impossible, was a cold, hard logic that cut through the supernatural terror. With a collective, defeated nod, they agreed. They dragged Marcus's broken body out into the backyard, the mud already thick from the rain, and began to dig. After the burial of Marcus in the backyard of the house, Jake tries to start the car, but it's not working. He tries calling for help, but the landline is dead. Suddenly, a heavy storm hits the town, making it impossible to get help. The house is isolated, and it'll take at least two hours to get help. Jake suggests they stay until the storm is over. The next day, they're all shaken. Clara is taking a bath when she feels someone behind her. She turns, but there's no one. She reaches for her soap, slips, and hits her head on the bathtub. She screams, and the others rush to help her. She's got a cut on her forehead. "I felt someone push me," she says. The others try to convince her it was just an accident. "It's just Marcus's death getting to you," Jake says. "We need to get out of here, but we can't until the storm passes. Just calm down, it's not real." Clara goes to the room to change, trying to shake off the feeling of unease. As she's getting clothes from the wardrobe, the fan above her turns on by itself. She tries to ignore it, but the fan starts spinning faster and faster. "Sarah? Jack?" she calls out, but no one answers. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, but the fan's spinning is getting louder. Suddenly, it starts to spin wildly, and the blades begin to detach. "JACK!" she screams, but it's too late. One of the blades flies off and hits Clara in the neck, at that precise moment, Eliza threw open the door. The blade struck Clara with a sickening, wet thud, burying itself deep into the side of her neck, severing the spine and major arteries. A GEYSER of hot, arterial blood erupted from the wound, striking Eliza full in the face. Clara’s body hit the floor with a dull, wet sound, her life’s blood pooling around her. Eliza’s eyes were wide with shock, her face pale, the spray of Clara’s arterial blood still warm and sticky on her skin. She screamed, her voice high-pitched. "What the fuck!!!!!! this is... we need to get out of here, NOW." Eliza backed away from the room, her eyes fixed on Clara's body, the sight of the fan blade in her friend's neck burning into her memory. The storm outside raged on, thunder crashing like a heartbeat. She ran to the nearest door, trying to escape, but the storm's heavy winds pushed her back into the house. The door slammed shut with a final, echoing thud, and she was trapped.

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