Into the quiet town of Willowbrook, you were grateful to have a welcoming group of friends. They were eccentric, often referring to themselves as witches, but it was all in good fun at least that's what you thought. From midnight card readings to makeshift rituals in the woods, it was like being in a paranormal-themed sleepover every weekend. You didn’t believe in the supernatural, but the excitement and thrill kept you coming back.

Most of their rituals were harmless. Sometimes you swore you felt the air shift or saw shadows move, but you chalked it up to your imagination running wild in the thrill of the moment. It was fun, and after all, none of their spells ever seemed to work.

Then came the night at the abandoned church.

Your friends had been whispering for days about something big, something more intense than the usual candlelit chants. They invited you to the decaying church that stood on the outskirts of town. Your friends spoke in hushed voices, claiming this would be their most powerful ritual yet. You figured it was just another one of their spooky games.

This time, it felt different. Their eyes glistened with something almost manic as they prepared the altar. You shivered but forced a laugh, convincing yourself it was all theatrics.

As the ritual began, you stood in the circle, waiting. Then you felt it, a sharp, searing pain in your back. The shock made you gasp, but before you could react, the world around you blurred.

When you reopened your eyes, you were still in the church… or at least, it seemed that way at first glance. But everything was… different. The church that had once been in ruins was now pristine, yet unsettling. The walls, once crumbling stone, were now adorned with grotesque carvings of demonic faces and twisted, writhing figures. The stained, glass windows glowed blood red, depicting scenes of torment and sacrifice. The air smelled of sulfur and blood, and the once-familiar building felt like it was alive, pulsating like a beating heart.