The blade gleamed in his hand, catching the flicker of the candles as he circled the room like a priest before his altar. The captives whimpered, the sound layering into a trembling chorus. The basement walls seemed to absorb their fear, feeding it back as a living presence, something thick in the air, suffocating, impossible to escape.

The man set the dagger down with careful precision, as though placing it on a sacred pedestal. Then he began to move the children, dragging them one by one into the open space in the center of the floor. He worked quickly, methodically, his twitching neck punctuating each step like a tick of a clock.

The chained boy watched in terror as he drew chalk lines across the floor, thick, uneven strokes forming a circle around them all.

“Now we’ll all stay together,” he murmured, his voice reverent, like prayer. “Forever. No one leaves the circle. Not you, not her, not him.” He jabbed a finger toward the ceiling. “Not even her when she comes back.”

The girl sobbed, rocking against her bonds. The younger boy beside her shook his head violently, his gag damp with saliva and tears.

The man ignored them.

Instead, he reached under the table and pulled out a box. Its wood was dark, old, and stained with dry, crusted blood. He opened it slowly, almost lovingly, revealing dozens of tiny objects. At first glance, they looked like trinkets, rings, shoelaces, locks of hair tied with string. But nestled among them were darker trophies: teeth, fingernails, tiny bones wrapped in cloth.

He lifted a single shoelace between his fingers, inhaling deeply as though savoring a perfume. “Every star leaves something behind,” he said, showing it to the captives. “A piece of themselves to remind me of the light.”

The chained boy gagged on his breath, choking on terror. His mind reeled, fighting to deny what he was seeing.

The man placed the shoelace delicately on the floor, right in front of the trembling girl. “And now it’s your turn to shine. Each of you will give me something. Each of you will leave a mark.”

He picked up the dagger again, its uneven blade glinting.

The captives squirmed, desperate, their muffled cries colliding into a pitiful harmony. But he only smiled, dark, distant, his eyes wet with something that looked like grief twisted into madness.

He pressed the dagger’s tip to the girl’s arm, slowly carving a line into her flesh, watching the blood bead up before dripping onto the chalk circle. Her muffled scream rose, piercing, but he hummed louder, drowning her out with his lullaby.

“Up above the world so high…”

The younger boy thrashed wildly, trying to throw himself across the floor toward her, but his bindings held tight. The chained boy rattled his iron restraints until the concrete itself seemed to shiver.

The man’s neck jerked violently, harder this time, like something inside him was trying to tear its way out. His laughter broke through the song, jagged and raw. He smeared the girl’s blood with his hand, dragging it into the broken star symbol until it glowed wet and red.

He turned suddenly, eyes wide, staring at the others.

“One by one,” he whispered, trembling. “Until the circle is full. Until the stars don’t leave me anymore.”

He advanced on the younger boy, dagger raised, humming louder as the candle flames bent and trembled with the sound.