On the wooden table lay several large jars, each containing something unidentifiable suspended in a murky liquid. Some were filled with an oily darkness, others with a cloudy fluid that swirled ominously as the floorboards creaked under my hesitant steps. My mind raced as I glanced from one jar to the next, each more grotesque than the last.

In the corner of the room, a small, makeshift altar had been set up. Strange symbols were scrawled across it in a deep red hue that I dared not imagine was paint. My breath caught in my throat as I noticed a collection of faded photographs pinned to the wall above. They were pictures of us, our family, and some of people I didn’t recognize. But each one had been altered, eyes blackened out or faces crossed with the same crimson markings.