they saw a flame in a spark...

An empty parking lot. It is just after dark, the area dimly lit by a couple of flickering street lights. Matt and Sarah walking at a steady, yet slow pace, full of apprehension. Meanwhile, Fran is a ways away setting up a circle with candles, and various substances in jars. 

Matt shook his head, “Why does she always make us meet in the creepiest places she can find?”

Sarah and Matt take a long deep breath and begin walking towards Fran’s set up. As they slowly creep their way close Matt says to Sarah under his breath, “I need to tell you something… I have a bad feeling about this… about Fran. Something isn’t right with it all.”

 

Sarah looks at him, eyes filled with concern, “Nothing is right about this whole thing, Matt, what do you mean?”
 

“I don’t know, I just think… something is off. She’s different now.”

 

Matt continues but then is cut off with Sarah letting out a stressed half-laugh. “Matt, this has been the most insane 24 hours of our entire lives, I know it seems impossible but let's just try to trust her. She knows the most about this stuff anyway unless you have a better idea…”

 

Matt stares into the shadows and lets out a heavy sigh. “You’re right. You’re right, let’s do this.”
 

Sarah takes Matt’s hand and they walk towards Fran’s setup as she kneels and begins striking matches to light the fire in the centre of the circle.
 

“Oh good, you guys are here,” Fran says without looking up at them. There is a sombre inflexion in her voice, as though she were greeting family members at a funeral. She rises to her feet and rests her gaze on her two friends.
 

“I just wanted to say…” she trails off causing Sarah and Matt to wonder what she seemed so sad about. “I just wanted to say thank you guys, for everything. I know I could be a little wild sometimes and not many people in my life have stuck around the way you two have. So thanks.”
 

“Um, yeah, well, of course, Fran,” Matt says, slightly confused by the sentiment.
 

“We love you, and we’re always here,” Sarah adds.
 

After another deep sigh, Fran shakes off whatever sadness was lingering and says “All right, let's get this over with.”
 

The three begin following the instructions laid out by an ancient text Fran had found and printed out from a historical document archive website. Each of them tosses a material into the fire, a hand full of dirt, a sprinkle of saltwater, a bushel of dried flowers, a drop of amber-coloured oil. As they complete each step of the ritual, Fran holds the artefact in her hand and chants some sentences in Latin. Thunder clouds slowly begin to form in the night sky above them. Once again the energy in the air begins to vibrate all around them like electricity. 

 

Fran’s chanting grows louder and louder, it turns into yelling as the wind blows around them.

 

Sarah and Matt brace themselves for the crescendo, but suddenly Fran stops her chants. “I’m sorry guys, I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before or else I knew you wouldn’t go along with it.” She yells over the growing winds.

“What are you talking about? What's going on?” Sarah screams, her voice full of fear. “I must be the conductor, it has to be me. I have to go.”
 

“What?!!”
 

“I love you guys,” Fran says, her voice faltering.
 

With that, she chants the final words of the ritual, her voice seeming to echo into the distance. There is a split second of silence as Sarah and Matt both stare at Fran in disbelief. Her face upturned to the sky, her body lifts off the ground ever so slightly, and the air inside the circle seems to fizz with electricity. 

In the space of a millisecond, lightning strikes. Everything is bathed in white-blue light, almost as if it was daytime for a fraction of a second. Fran’s face is contorted with pain, her eye sockets emitting a hot light, her hair sizzling in every direction and the artefact in her hand shatters into thousands of shiny pieces. Then darkness returns as Fran crumple to the ground, steam and smoke rising from her slumped body. 

Matt is standing still, frozen in shock, but Sarah approaches her friend’s body with tears welling in her eyes. She cradles Fran’s blackened hand in her own.

“She did it for us. She gave up her life for us. She’s gone.”

Sarah is right, Fran is gone, and with her, the cursed object that started it all.