Chapter 2Sacrificial Vow

To be certain, after I had fasted and bathed as instructed, they laid me down on the bed to perform the final check. Two of Martha’s fingers probed, struggling to find any purchase. Finally, she sighed with relief.

"You are pure, Elara. The Patron will be pleased," she said, her voice softening. "Now listen closely. What I'm about to tell you is the key to winning his favor. You cannot make a single mistake."

They drilled me until midnight, going over every last detail until I was dizzy with instructions.

The next morning at eight, I was brought to the Sanctum. It stood in the heart of the village, a grim, windowless building that only men were permitted to enter. Women were forbidden from even kneeling at its door. The only exception was the Patron’s Bride.

As I stepped over the threshold, a wave of vertigo washed over me. It felt like I’d seen this all before in a dream, a scene I couldn't quite grasp, the details slipping through my fingers like sand.

"Don't just stand there daydreaming," Martha hissed. "Kneel and pray to the founders for their blessing."

"Yes, of course."

Half an hour of tedious rituals later, I was finally led to the courtyard behind the Sanctum. They intended to change me into the ceremonial gown right there, out in the open sun.

I clutched the front of my simple dress, hesitant. "Here? But… the men from the neighboring houses can see. My body is for the Patron alone. They are not worthy."

Martha’s eyes flashed with impatience. "Those men are the ones who inspect you for the Patron. Only if you pass their examination will you be worthy of ascending the mountain."

I fell silent and let my hands drop. No matter how many X-rated films you’ve watched, nothing prepares you for the hot blush that creeps up your neck when the last piece of your clothing falls away in front of strangers.

Another half hour passed. Dressed in the magnificent crimson gown and ornate headdress, I emerged from the back of the Sanctum. As I looked up, I saw several of the town's elder men staring, their eyes bloodshot, their throats working as they swallowed.

Elder Hawthorne nodded, satisfied. "Let's begin."

At his signal, music began to swell from unseen players. Unlike the joyous tunes of a normal wedding, the music for the Patron was a somber, ancient dirge. Its melody was both grand and unsettling, its notes seeming to bore into your very soul. My head grew fuzzy, and I forgot everything, my feet moving automatically, following the procession out of the Sanctum.

Halfway down the path, my left foot caught on my right. I pitched forward, crying out as I fell to my knees. My palms scraped violently across the rough stone path, leaving a smear of blood in my wake.

"To see blood on such an auspicious day! This is a terrible omen!" Elder Hawthorne’s face darkened with anger.

I quickly pulled a small charm from a hidden pocket in my gown. "Elder, don’t worry! The seer gave me this lucky charm. It ensures my success in all things," I said, my voice bright and confident. "Besides, she foretold that my day would begin with sorrow but end in joy. This bleeding only proves that everything from this moment on will go perfectly!"

My words seemed to placate him and the other elders, and the procession continued. But for some reason, the cuts on my hands wouldn't stop bleeding, leaving a faint, crimson trail behind us. The stinging pain made it impossible to focus on the hypnotic music.

As we reached the trailhead leading up the mountain, a black cloth was tied over my eyes. The Patron desires purity in his Bride’s gaze, the Elder had explained. I was not to look upon the wild spirits of the mountain, lest he find me tainted.

With my vision gone, my other senses sharpened to a razor's edge. I could feel the uneven ground beneath my feet, the path turning from worn stone to dirt and roots. The music behind me seemed to intensify, crawling under my skin, inescapable. The air changed, too, losing the smoky scent of the village and taking on a cold, clean fragrance. I instinctively clenched my fists, and the pain in my palms flared.

I don’t know how long we walked, but I could feel the sun beating down directly overhead when they finally allowed me to remove the blindfold.

Before me was a winding, narrow path. It ended at a yawning cavern, a mouth leading into endless shadow. Beside it stood a colossal tree, its branches reaching for the sky. The intoxicating scent of night-blooming jasmine hung heavy in the air, so thick you could almost taste it. The villagers claimed this tree had fed on the essence of countless Brides, which was how it grew so tall, so fragrant.

Ten yards from the cavern's entrance, the procession came to a sudden halt. Elder Hawthorne's small, cloudy eyes fixed on me. "Are you certain you want to go in?"