You see the cultist with the scarlet mask approaching with a silver dagger. She says, “May the hourglass reflect upon itself” and with a swift move cuts your throat. You feel something warm pour down your neck. You can no longer breathe. The others approach with knives in their hands. You feel a striking pain in your lower abdomen. You try to look down but cannot move your head anymore. You feel that acute pain once more, again and again. A thought crosses your mind. It is one of relief: you are glad you told your family that you loved them before you left home. You can no longer feel the knives coming in and out of your body. You are dead.