Your task is to have an audience with the Holder of Charms. Beware that she is a demon, and to charm her, you must act like one. Once you are ready, ask "Who were those that were unaware?" Note that there is no going back from this.
If you are not ready, do not ask the question, keep driving and go back home. There will be no consequences.
If you ask the question, a woman or man, depending on your preference, of unimaginable beauty will appear in the back seat behind you. Their looks differ from person to person, based on your taste. Do not turn around, only look at them briefly in the mirror. If you stare too long, not at all, or upset them with inane questions, God help you, for your death will be agonizing.
Only ask them how you'd do violent, horrific, and despicable things. Like how you'd cut babies faces off with razor blades, flaying children with knives, chopping fingers off, or pulling teeth out with wrenches. Violence, blood and gore excites them. Whatever you do, do not stop talking at any moment, pause briefly only between sentences.
The speed of your words does not matter, but don't go too slow, or they'll lose patience, and you don't want that. Just keep talking until your throat bleeds and your tongue dries and you cannot utter another hateful and evil word. This can take up to hours, or days, depending on your moral choices in life. If you stop at any point, or if they show disinterest, you have failed, and you lose. You will not die, but will spend an infinite slumber living the torment that you so vehemently described to them.
But if you succeed, you will hear a inaudible whisper. Look in the mirror and you will see horrible images of smiling babies without bodies and skinless faces play out in the mirror. Squirming in blood and pus. A display that would chill Death's spine.
Don't let the images disturb you, for you are on the right track. The images are projections of you, for your hatred has charmed the holder. Don't be alarmed if you feel what the images felt, playful grief and sorrow flavored with deep burning hatred. When no more images appear in the mirror, close your eyes. Keep your hate, and just tad bit of sanity and any humanity you have left.
Never open your eyes even when you hear an old and crazy woman singing the snake charmer melody in your head. Sometimes she'll sing the English alphabet, or nursery rhymes. Open your eyes once the singing stops and you'll be standing in a field of dead foliage.
Eight feet before you, a demon stands. Its skin has been boiled black, dripping oily flesh that plasters to the earth with acidic sounds. Its exposed bones have opulent green maggots, misplaced eyes and fangs. Its organs adorn its naked body. Its face, looking down on you, features a warped smile. Its eyes are sunken in purple caverns where the sockets should be. Its lips are flaked off, cooked by the oil that was once her nose. In place of her teeth, are slashed gums, dangling, and arching in impossible ways.
It will then sing the melody of a couple about to marry. Holding its sizzling maggoty hands. It will extend her neck for your kiss. You must kiss it. Its lips will be cold, like raw meat. The slashed gums will be hard and metallic, its tongue bitter. Yet, as sweet as a kiss, it will taste like cooked human.
After the kiss you'll awaken to find yourself in your car, rusted and most of its parts gone. You'll have a raging purple tumor on your throat. No one will pay attention to it, for you're the only one who can see it. But don't worry, because you have the gift of utterance and charisma. You can make anyone fall for you, metaphorically, or literally. The tumor is object 346 of 538. Choose your words, carefully.