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“I know.”

“Do you?”

My gaze snaps to his. “Don’t.”

His expression hardens. “You built a festival on top of an altar.”

“To bury it.”

“You feed hundreds of people on sacred ground every year.”

“To dilute it.”

“You put masks on their faces.”

“Because they stopped meaning anything a long time ago.”

“And you let them run.”

“Because running through a fucking corn maze isn’t a ritual.”

He takes a step toward me. “The Earth disagrees.”

My hand curls into fists. I want to hit him. Mostly because he’s right.

All this time, I’ve taken every piece of what happened here and made it meaningless. The symbols became logos. The masks became costumes. The feast became overpriced food served on paper plates. The Hunt became something drunk strangers signed waivers to do for fun.

I buried the sacred beneath the ridiculous until no one remembered there was ever a difference…and it worked—until tonight.

Rhett folds his arms across his chest, his usual amusement nowhere to be found. “So what happens now?”

Kai and I exchange a look neither of us can answer.

Rhett’s mouth twists. “Excellent.” He looks between us. “Very comforting.”

Kai turns toward the glow of the bonfires in the distance. Music drifts across the field, louder now, accompanied by hundreds of voices. “The Revel comes next.”

My jaw locks.

“And after that?”

He hesitates. And that scares me more than the answer.

“The blood.”

”No.”

”Ezra.”

“No one bleeds.”

Rhett raises a brow. “Have you met this crowd?”

I cut him a look sharp enough to shut him up. “You know what I mean.”

His expression darkens. So does Kai’s. Because the Blood isn't some idiot slicing his palm open on a beer bottle. It isn’t a scraped knee in the maze or two drunk assholes throwing punches beside a bonfire.

The blood is different. It has to mean something… it has to be offered—or taken.