Page 10 of Sacrificed to the Mountain Demon

I turn back towards my cave, my steps heavy with purpose. Whatever is about to happen, I'll face it on my own terms.

5

BELLA

The water in the wooden tub feels cold against my skin, but I barely notice. Mara's gentle hands work soap through my hair. Her touch is a stark contrast to the harsh reality of what's to come. Tears blur my vision, turning the flickering candlelight into a hazy glow.

"There, there," Mara murmurs, her voice catching. "It'll be over soon."

I want to laugh at the absurdity of her words, but all that comes out is a choked sob. "Over? My life, you mean?"

She doesn't respond, just continues washing my hair in silence. I close my eyes and try to savor these last moments of familiarity. The scent of lavender soap fills my nostrils, a cruel reminder of normality.

When I step out of the tub, Mara wraps me in a soft cloth. "Time for the ceremonial garments," she says in a soft voice.

The white dress she helps me into feels foreign against my skin. It's made of a material I've never felt before, smooth and cool to the touch. As Mara fastens the intricate clasps at the back, I catch a glimpse of myself in the polished metal mirror.

I hardly recognize the woman staring back at me. My usually unruly curls have been tamed, falling in soft waves around my shoulders. The dress hugs my figure in a way my usual winter clothes never do. I look... beautiful. And completely petrified.

A knock at the door startles us both. "It's time," a voice calls from outside.

Mara gives my hand a squeeze. "Remember, you're doing this for all of us. You're so brave, Bella."

Brave? Is that what they're calling it now? I want to scream, to run, to hide. But I don't. I simply nod, my voice lost somewhere in the pit of my stomach.

As we step outside, I'm greeted by a group of village women. Their faces are a mix of pity and reverence. They surround me, adjusting my dress, adding final touches to my hair.

"You look beautiful, dear," one of them says, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Like a true hero," another adds.

Their words wash over me, meaningless platitudes that do nothing to ease the growing dread in me. I want to tell them to stop, to leave me alone, but I can't find the strength. So I stand there, a silent lamb being prepared for slaughter, as they continue their ministrations.

The women's hands flutter around me like nervous birds. Their touches, once comforting, now feel like chains binding me to this cruel fate. I stand rigid, my heart pounding so hard I fear it might burst from my chest.

"There," Mara says, stepping back to admire her handiwork. "You look perfect."

Perfect for what? To be devoured by a monster? The thought sends a shiver down my spine, and I struggle to keep my composure. I want to scream, to lash out, to demand why they're doing this to me. But the words catch in my throat, trapped behind years of meek compliance.

"Thank you," I manage to whisper, hating how small my voice sounds.

Elder Belinda approaches, her weathered face a mask of false sympathy. "Bella, my dear, you're doing a great service for our village."

I meet her gaze, searching for any hint of remorse, but find only cold determination. How easily they sacrifice me as if I'm nothing to them. The betrayal cuts deep, leaving a raw, aching wound in my soul.

"What if..." I start, my voice trembling. "What if there's another way?"

The women exchange glances, a mixture of pity and impatience in their eyes.

"Hush now," one of them says, patting my arm. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

Harder for whom? I want to ask. For them, who get to return to their families and their lives? Or for me, being sent to my death?

As they lead me towards the village square, my mind races with desperate thoughts of escape. But where would I go? The waira prowl beyond our borders, and I have no survival skills to speak of.

"Remember," Elder Belinda says, her bony fingers digging into my arm, "your sacrifice ensures the safety of everyone you love."

Love. The word tastes bitter in my mouth. If this is love, I want no part of it. But even as anger and fear war within me, I can't bring myself to voice these thoughts. I've spent too long being the good girl, the one who never causes trouble. And now, that very nature has sealed my fate.

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