Maxine Kemp held the crimson orb, its pulse mirroring her own frantic beat. The egg-laden crown felt heavy, each porcelain shell a silent witness to the ritual. She’d been drawn here by whispers of renewal, promises of power blooming from decay. But the rabbit… it hadn't been in any of the texts. Its form shifted with every breath she took, and the heat radiating from the ground grew stronger. The pedestal trembled beneath her feet as a voice echoed through the graveyard, "The cycle demands balance." Maxine tightened her grip on the orb, unsure if she was about to birth something new or unleash an ancient terror.