Arturo invited Abigail, Barbara, Daisy, and Corazona to his home. They all gathered in the living room. Arturo had something important to tell them.

Arturo welcomed them and offered them tea and biscuits. Once they were seated, Arturo spoke.

"I know the past few days have been very difficult for all of us. We have all lost someone dear to us, and the road ahead will not be easy."

Abigail and Barbara held hands, seeking comfort in each other's presence. Daisy sat silently, staring at the floor. Corazona's body shook as she found his place terrifying.

Arturo continued, "I have been in contact with the ritual and I have uncovered new information about the curse that claimed our loved ones."

The room was silent, except for the sound of the cooling tea kettle. Abigail and Barbara looked at each other with shock and disbelief.

Arturo took a deep breath before continuing, "I'm afraid the news I have to share is even more troubling. We've discovered that it was Ella who orchestrated this entire tragedy through curse and dark rituals."

He explained, "It seems Ella had harbored a deep, festering rage towards you all for years. She manipulated Cynthia, playing on her own resentment, and coerced her into participating in these heinous acts. Though Cynthia is also not a victim, she also wanted to do it, she wanted you to suffer but she was guilty. Cynthia was not entirely culpable. We believe she was as much a victim of Ella's machinations as the rest of us. Ella exploited Cynthia's vulnerabilities and her anger towards the Thornhills, turning her into an unwitting accomplice."

FLASHBACK:

Ella strode up the cracked, weed-infested path leading to Cynthia's modest, weathered home. Her expression was one of grim determination as she approached the front door and rapped firmly.

Cynthia opened the door, her brow furrowed in suspicion. "Ella. What are you doing here?"

"Cynthia, we need to talk," Ella said, her voice low and urgent as she stepped past Cynthia into the small, cluttered living room. "I know about your anger towards our family. About how they've wronged you."

Cynthia's eyes narrowed, the muscles in her jaw tightening. "Wronged me? They imprisoned my daughter Agnes! After everything our family has done for them, they turned on us without a second thought." She clenched her fists, knuckles whitening. "The Thornhills have brought nothing but suffering to our community, and they need to pay for their transgressions."

Ella nodded, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Cynthia's arm. "I understand your pain, though I hated you for your daughter murdering my brother. It's time we took matters into our own hands." Her expression hardened. "We have the power to bring them down, to make them feel the same anguish they've inflicted on us."

Cynthia chuckled mockingly, her eyes narrowing as she regarded Ella. "So, tell me, Ella - why are you doing this? Aren't you part of the Thornhill family yourself? Are you trying to fool me somehow?"

Ella's expression remained impassive, though a flicker of unease crossed her features. "I understand your suspicion, Cynthia. But my allegiance lies with our community, not the Thornhills. They have wronged us, wronged you, for far too long."

Cynthia scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "That's a convenient excuse. You've always been one of them, Ella. How do I know this isn't some twisted game you're playing?"

Ella took a step closer, her voice lowering to a near-whisper. "Because I've seen firsthand the suffering they've caused. The way they've trampled on our people, on our traditions."

Cynthia's gaze searched Ella's face, as if trying to discern the truth. "And you think dark magic is the answer? You really believe that's the way to get back at them?"

"It's the only way," Ella urged, her eyes burning with conviction. "Our family have power, influence - they're untouchable through normal means. But with the forces I've learned to harness, we can bring them to their knees. Make them feel the same pain they've inflicted on us."

Cynthia rolled her eyes, her expression skeptical. "You really expect me to believe you, Ella? Why would you, a Thornhill, help me get back at your own family? That doesn't make any sense."

Cynthia shook her head, her jaw set in a firm line. "The Thornhills have always looked down on us, on our me. They've never seen us as equals, only as inferiors to be exploited. And now you want me to trust that you're suddenly on my side?"

Ella opened her mouth to respond, but Cynthia raised a hand, cutting her off. "No, I don't buy it. There's got to be some ulterior motive here. Are you trying to trick me, Ella? To get me to do something that will benefit your precious Thornhill clan?"

She let out a derisive snort. "I know how your family operates. They'll stop at nothing to maintain their power and influence. I won't be a pawn in your little games."

Cynthia took a step back, her eyes narrowing. "I'm sorry, Ella, but I just don't trust you. Not when your family has been the source of so much pain and suffering for mine. You're one of them, and that's not going to change, no matter what you say."

Ella's expression shifted, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her features. "Cynthia, you're right to be skeptical of me. The Thornhills have never truly accepted me as one of their own."

She let out a heavy sigh, her gaze falling to the floor. "Growing up, I was always on the outside, looking in. They saw me as inferior, as someone who could never truly belong to their illustrious family." Ella's hands clenched into fists at her sides. "The way they treated me, the way they made me feel - it's not so different from how your family has been mistreated. I know the pain of being an outcast, of watching as the people who are supposed to love you turn their backs on you."

Ella looked up, her eyes burning with a fierce determination. "That's why I'm here, Cynthia. Because I understand, on a deep level, the anguish that the Thornhills have inflicted on us. And I'm tired of standing by and watching them abuse their power."

She stepped closer, her voice lowering to a fervent whisper. "This isn't just about your family's struggle. It's about mine as well. I want to see the them brought down, to feel the same humiliation and powerlessness that they've forced upon us for so long."

Cynthia's laughter cut through the tense silence, her expression twisted with derision. "You really expect me to believe that, Ella? That you, a Thornhill, are asking for help from the family that murdered your own brother?"

Ella's face fell, a flash of pain crossing her features. "I know it's hard to believe, Cynthia. But you have to understand - the Thornhills have never truly accepted me as one of their own. They've always seen me as an outsider, someone to be tolerated, at best. And as for what happened to my brother... that was Agnes' doing, not your entire family. I know the pain and the anger you feel towards them, but I don't hold all of you responsible for her actions."

Cynthia's eyes narrowed, her skepticism still evident. "So you expect me to just forget about what happened? To let bygones be bygones?"

Ella shook her head, her expression earnest. "No, not at all. I know the wound is still too fresh, the betrayal too deep. But I'm asking you to at least consider working with me, Cynthia. Because the Thornhills are the true enemy here, not your family."

She reached out, her hand hovering near Cynthia's arm, as if unsure whether the gesture would be welcomed. "I know it's a lot to ask, given our history. But I'm willing to put aside the past, if you are. We have a common goal, Cynthia - to bring the Thornhills to their knees and make them pay for their cruelty."

Cynthia studied Ella's face, her own expression a mix of warring emotions. The anguish of losing her brother, the lingering distrust of the Thornhill name - it was all written in the lines of her face.

After a long, tense moment, she let out a heavy sigh. "I can't promise anything, Ella. The pain of what happened to my family is still too raw." She paused, her gaze searching Ella's. "But... if what you're saying is true, and you truly are an outcast in your own family... then maybe there's a chance we could work together."

Ella's eyes widened, a glimmer of hope sparking in their depths. "Does that mean...?"

Cynthia held up a hand, silencing her. "I said I can't promise anything. But I'm willing to hear you out, Ella. Show me that you're serious about this, that you're not just playing some twisted game, and maybe - just maybe - we can find a way to make the Thornhills pay for their sins."

Days turned into weeks as Cynthia and Ella delved deeper into their mission for retribution against the Thornhill family. Their search for allies eventually led them to a secretive group of practitioners of dark magic and sorcery.

As they approached the imposing wrought-iron gates of the local cemetery, the leader ritual paused, turning to face the two women. "Remember, the ritual we will perform requires a fresh corpse. You must be swift and decisive in your task."

Cynthia's stomach churned, the thought of desecrating a grave making her feel physically ill. Ella, on the other hand, seemed unfazed.

The leader produced a set of keys, unlocking the gates and ushering Ella and Cynthia inside. "The newest interments are in the far corner, beyond the ancient oak tree. That is where you will find your sacrifice."

Ella's heart raced as she followed Cynthia deeper into the cemetery, the shadows of the towering headstones seeming to loom over them. The air was filled with the scent of freshly turned earth and the lingering fragrance of funeral flowers.

Ella led the way, her steps sure and determined, until they reached the freshly dug grave, a mound of soil still visible. Cynthia hesitated, her hands trembling as she stared at the disturbed earth.

"Ella, I... I don't know if I can do this," Cynthia whispered, her voice barely audible.

Ella turned to her, her expression hardening. "Cynthia, we've come too far to turn back now. This is our chance to make the Thornhills pay for what they've done. Are you going to let your family's memory be tarnished by your weakness?"

Cynthia flinched at Ella's harsh words, but she knew deep down that she was right. She had to be strong, to push past her own misgivings.

With a deep, steadying breath, Ella stepped forward and began to dig, her fingernails scraping against the freshly turned soil. Cynthia quickly joined her, their hands working in tandem to unearth the casket beneath.

The wooden coffin was still pristine, untouched by the elements. Ella stared at it, her stomach churning with a mixture of revulsion and determination. Cynthia, with a firm nod, grasped the lid and began to pry it open.

As the casket creaked open, revealing the pale, serene face of the deceased, Ella felt a wave of nausea wash over her. But she forced herself to look.

"We're doing this for us," Ella whispered, her voice trembling. 

Cynthia nodded, her expression grim. "Then let's get this done. The sooner we complete the ritual, the sooner we can bring the Thornhills to their knees."

With that, the two women carefully lifted the corpse from the casket, their movements careful and reverent, despite the nature of their task. 

As Ella and Cynthia approached the cemetery gates, the hooded figure of the sorcery group's leader stepped forward, their eyes gleaming with dark anticipation.

"Excellent, you have retrieved the vessel," the leader said, their voice smooth and silky. "But the ritual requires more than just the body. We must also have the skull."

Cynthia's heart sank, her stomach twisting into knots. The thought of desecrating the corpse further filled her with a sense of revulsion, but she knew there was no turning back now.

Ella swallowed hard, her hands trembling as she and Cynthia gently laid the body on the ground. Steeling her courage, Ella reached forward, her fingers grasping the cold, lifeless head of the corpse.

As she began to pry the skull free, Cynthia felt bile rise in her throat, the sickening sound of cracking bone echoing in her ears. Ella, her face a mask of stoicism, assisted Cynthia, their movements precise and efficient.

The leader watched, their expression unreadable, as the two women completed the gruesome task. Once the skull was free, Ella held it in her trembling hands, her eyes downcast, unable to meet the leader's gaze.

Cynthia, on the other hand, lifted her chin defiantly, her eyes narrowed. "We've done as you asked. Now, tell us what's next."

The leader's lips curled into a sinister smile, their eyes glinting with a dark, unsettling light. "Excellent. Tomorrow, we shall begin the ritual."

The following day, Ella and Cynthia returned to the river where the sorcery group's ritual was to take place. The hooded figures stood in a solemn circle, their faces obscured by the shadows cast by their cloaks.

As Ella and Cynthia approached, the group parted to welcome them. Ella held the freshly exhumed skull in her hands. Cynthia, her face pale and drawn, followed closely behind, the weight of what they had done the previous night still heavy on her heart.

The sorcery group leader stepped forward, their hands outstretched to receive the skull. Ella passed it to them reverently, her eyes never leaving the grisly relic.

"You have done well, my children," the leader intoned, their voice resonating with a deep, unsettling power. "The time has come to begin the ritual."

The group members began to arrange themselves in a circular formation, their movements fluid and synchronized. Ella and Cynthia were ushered to the center, the skull placed in the middle of the circle.

The leader raised their hands, and the group began to chant in a language that sent shivers down Cynthia's spine. The air seemed to crackle with energy, and Ella could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

As the chanting reached a crescendo, the leader stepped forward, drawing a ceremonial dagger from the folds of their cloak. Ella's heart raced, and she felt a surge of panic.

The group continued to chant, their voices rising and falling in a haunting, rhythmic pattern. Ella and Cynthia stood at the center, the weight of their decision bearing down on them with each passing moment.

As the ritual reached its climax, the air seemed to vibrate with a strong energy, and Ella couldn't help but wonder what forces they had unleashed – and what the consequences would be.

One day, Ella cornered Cynthia in the small shelter behind her garden, determined to force her hand. Cynthia, visibly distraught, pleaded with Ella, begging her to reconsider the path they had chosen.

"Ella, please, we can't do this," Cynthia said, her voice trembling. "The ritual, the skull – it was too much. I don't want any part of this anymore."

But Ella was unyielding, her eyes filled with a fanatical light. "You don't understand, Cynthia. We've been given a gift, a chance to change everything. You have to do this, for your family, for mine."

Cynthia shook her head, her resolve crumbling. "I can't, Ella. I won't. This is wrong, and you know it."

Undeterred, Ella reached out, her fingers gripping Cynthia's arm with surprising strength. "Then I'll make you," she hissed, her voice low and menacing.

Ella began to chant, her words laced with a hypnotic power. Cynthia's eyes widened as she felt the familiar sensation of falling under the spell, her will slowly slipping away.

Ella, sensing Cynthia's weakening resistance, gestured to a nearby object, a trinket imbued with dark energy. "Focus on this, Cynthia. Let it guide you, and you'll find the strength to do what must be done."

Cynthia, her body now moving of its own accord, reached out and grasped the object, her fingers trembling. The dark power coursing through it seemed to seep into her very being, and she found herself unable to resist, and Ella provided the photos to them.

As Ella watched, a twisted smile playing on her lips, Cynthia began to perform the intricate gestures and chants that would unleash the dark forces upon the Thornhill family, one by one.

Cynthia's lips moved, her voice hollow and devoid of emotion, as she invoked the spirits to do her bidding. The air around them crackled with an oppressive energy, and Ella felt a surge of exhilaration, knowing that the power they had sought was now within their grasp.