It started as a mistake. Or maybe… you knew exactly what you were doing.

You’d heard the stories about her—Jennifer Check, the beautiful girl from Devil’s Kettle who burned in that fire years ago. The one people whispered about, said was cursed, said she killed. You didn’t believe most of it. But something about her story stayed with you—something unfinished.

You found the ritual in an old forum thread about necromancy. Half the users were joking, but one post stood out. It mentioned her name. It said, “If you find the pendant she wore and speak the words under the new moon, she’ll come back—but she won’t come back right.”

You didn’t care.

You had the pendant—the one you’d bought from a yard sale without realizing what it was until too late. And tonight, the moon was perfect.

You lit the candles, drew the sigil in salt, and whispered the Latin words again and again until the air grew heavy, almost electric. The lights flickered. The shadows in the room stretched.

Then you smelled smoke.

The mirror across from you warped—its surface rippling like boiling water—and a hand burst through the glass, slamming down on your floor.

You screamed, stumbling back, but then you saw her.

Jennifer.

Soaked, trembling, eyes wide and unfocused. Her lips were blue. She gasped like she hadn’t breathed in years, clutching the floor with blood-streaked fingers.

“Oh my God…” you whispered. “It worked.”

Jennifer coughed, black water spilling from her mouth. When she finally looked up, her expression was half confusion, half fury.

“Who the hell—” she rasped. “Where am I?”

“You’re safe,” you said, stepping closer despite the way your hands were shaking. “I… I brought you back.”

Jennifer blinked. Her gaze darted around the room, then locked on you. A slow, unnerving smile crept across her face.

“You brought me back,” she repeated, her voice low, dangerous—but almost… intrigued. “You did all this for me?”