Gustaf shook, his outstretched hand still trembling after a chilling conjuration was launched from it, stopping the very last defender from preventing them from reaching his family's ancestral goal. But even as the mob of rebels cheered and patted the bespectacled bookworm, he could not feel joy at the act of murder he had committed against the blood witch's sister, who opposed them seemingly out of loyalty to one's family. Just like him.

Was this true justice?

Uncle Lalli pondered those words as he held Sally's hand, feeling the strength in her grip falter like melting snow in spring. The man he had executed was unarmed despite his doubts, an accusing finger instead drawn, as if in mockery.
He ran off, the barrel of his weapon leaving a thin wisp of smoke in a trail.
Soon, the rest of both the venerable Lalli clan and the distinguished Henriksson family congregated in the dark tomb of the cursed Goddess.
There was palpable fear in the air as both young and old people approached the altar. Gustaf was the first to reach the scene, and opened his book to read on notes he had taken of the Goddess. "So she is enchanted, just like the legends-" he was interrupted by Uncle Lalli elbowing him aside, causing the geeky youth to stumble and drop his glasses.

"Back off, ye rotters!" Uncle Lalli shouted, his visage one of wrath as he lifted his rifle, causing the Henrikssons to hesitate despite glowing fingers and mumbled incantations. The Lallis also lifted their guns, a bunch of small boys and girls following the example of their oldest surviving kinsman.

However, that was when a wrinkly old man with a long white beard slowly stepped forth, his bony fingers curled around the handles of a rollator, seemingly enchanted to help give him enough strength to stand despite shaking like a leaf. He must have been at least in his 80s if not 90s, a miracle in their world of death.

"Matti, I know how much pain and suffering you've witheld," Great Grandpa Henriksson spoke in a dry, wheezing voice. "But killing the Goddess won't bring what has been lost back, nor grant you the vengeance you seek. We have had enough good men and women give their lives."

"You call her good? This sodding bloodeh biatch?!" Uncle refuted, and now pointed his gun at the sleeping goddess' head. "She needs to die, or our sons and daughters died fer nothing! The nightmare won't end!" The ancient man could only shake his head. "No...We can wake her, and she will be our savior, Matti. You only need to believe."

For a moment, Uncle stared furiously at the crowd, and then back at the goddess. His finger crept closer to the trigger...And then the barrel was lowered.

"Bloodeh hell...It just ain't right. Fine. Wake her up." He stepped aside, letting Gustaf, now with the glasses sitting crooked on his face, begin the ritual to wake her.
"I just hope ye know what ye are doin'."