The moon hung high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the dense forest surrounding Mirella's cottage. Inside, the air was thick with tension, as Stella and Bryan sat across from the witch, watching her carefully prepare the ingredients for the ritual. Each movement she made was deliberate, as though the weight of the task ahead loomed over her, just as it did them.
Stella's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Emma was out there, alone in her cell, suffering while they sat here waiting for a solution. The urgency gnawed at her, but she knew that if they acted rashly, the consequences could be catastrophic.
"How long will this take?" Stella asked, her voice strained with worry.
Mirella glanced up from her work, her sharp eyes meeting Stella's. "The preparation is crucial. The more precise we are, the higher the chances of success. If we rush, your daughter could be lost forever."
