Elise bolted outside, her breath catching in her throat. She knew at once it was Eden. What was she doing out there? And why was she running into the woods at this time? Her feet carried her faster than she could think, a deep instinct pulling her toward the forest.
She didn't understand why Eden had left, or if she knew about the creature, or the plan for the night—but Elise needed to find out.
Her heart pounded as she ran, the forest growing darker in the distance, the shadows of the trees swallowing everything around her. She had to catch up to Eden before anything worse could happen.
As Elise pushed forward through the dense, shadowed forest, she called out for Eden. Her voice broke through the stillness of the trees. "Eden! I know you're out here! I know you and Simon are here!" Her words echoed, only to be swallowed by the night. The air felt thick with anticipation, and the forest, eerily quiet, seemed to close in around her.
She kept moving, calling out again, her voice cracking. "Eden! Simon! Please, where are you?" She wasn't sure what she was hoping for—answers, an explanation, or just the comfort of hearing them say something. But nothing came. The silence grew heavy, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
And then, after what felt like an eternity, two dark figures emerged from the thick shadows. It was them—Eden and Simon.
Elise stopped in her tracks, staring at them. Eden was no longer in the white dress she had been prepared in, the one that symbolized the ritual she was about to perform. Instead, she wore a simple peasant's outfit, the fabric worn and rough against her skin. Simon stood beside her, a sack by his side, his eyes wide and filled with a deep, unspoken anxiety. They both looked at Elise, their faces shadowed by fear.
Simon's voice broke the silence. "Elise, please... let us go," he said, his tone low but desperate. "Eden can't do this. She can't go through with it."
Eden, meanwhile, didn't speak. She kept her head lowered, her eyes focused on the ground, unable to meet Elise's gaze. There was an overwhelming sadness about her, a weight that was too heavy for her shoulders. She didn't say a word, and in that silence, Elise could feel the turmoil between them.
Elise's mind was a whirlwind of confusion. She couldn't comprehend what Simon was saying. How could Eden, who had trained her whole life for this moment, run away from it? Her thoughts raced. She knew her role as the priestess, didn't she? But the idea of Eden performing the ritual—of taking the life of another being, even a monster—was something Elise could never reconcile with the person she knew. How could Eden do it?
A long, painful silence stretched between them. Elise's heart pounded in her chest, her hands trembling at her sides. She felt as if the weight of the entire world was bearing down on her, and she couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't make sense of it all.
Then she looked over at Simon, her heart pounding as though it would stop right then and there, the adrenaline in his face had gone down, and now alls he sees was tiredness in his eyes.
"Why, Simon?" Elise's voice finally broke the silence, her words a mix of hurt and confusion. "Why are you willing to help her? To the point of being someone who carries the weight of a traitor, to the village, to your father? Couldn't you have chosen someone else? Someone who didn't have to carry the burden of such a role?" She paused, choking on her emotions. "I, too, wanted to leave. Why couldn't you have chosen to save me instead?"
Her eyes locked with Simon's, searching for an explanation, something that could make sense of this madness. But instead of a response, all she saw in his face was guilt and sorrow. He couldn't meet her gaze, his eyes filled with something that made her chest ache even more.
Simon finally spoke, his voice strained, regret lacing each word. "I'm sorry, Elise," he said quietly. "But as I've told you before, I can't see anyone but Eden. I... I can't." His voice cracked slightly as he finished, and Elise could see how much this tore him apart.
Elise felt her throat tighten, her breath becoming shallow. The weight of Simon's words hit her harder than anything else. The reality was so stark—Eden had already made her choice, and so had Simon. There was nothing she could do to change it, no way to make them stay.
Her mind spun in a whirlwind of thoughts. She thought back to every passing glance they had shared, every subtle moment, every little hint of how they felt towards each other. How had she not noticed? Had she truly been blind to it all?
She remembered the stormy day when Simon had held Eden so tightly, as though she were the most precious thing in his life. He'd wrapped his arms around her, shielding her from the harsh winds and rain, and Eden had let herself lean into him, as if she knew, without a doubt, that he would protect her. They had stood there, locked in that quiet moment, and Elise had been too preoccupied with the storm to see what was so clearly unfolding before her.
Then, there were the smaller moments—the way Eden smiled whenever Simon brought her berries or little treasures he'd found on his outings. The way her cheeks would blush, so effortlessly, when he gave her those things, as though they were more than just gifts. They were his way of showing her something she hadn't fully understood until now—how much he cared.
Then, just earlier that day, when Simon had burst into the hut and found her in her dress, their eyes had locked for that fleeting moment. Time had seemed to slow, as if the world itself had paused, just for them. In that brief instant, there had been something unspoken, a depth to the way they looked at each other, something that neither of them could voice but both had felt.
After a long pause, Eden finally spoke, "I've lived my whole life being someone whom I do not desire to be, Elise. Please let me go."
Eden's plea rushed to Eden's mind. She tightened her wrist and finally nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "Go," she said, her heart heavy with the weight of the decision.
Without another word, Eden and Simon disappeared into the thick forest, their shadows melting into the darkness. Elise stood there for a long time, staring into the night, her mind whirling, unable to process what had just happened.
They were gone.
And in that silence, Elise couldn't help but feel the loss of Eden, of Simon, and of the fragile friendships that had once seemed so certain.
Elise stood there, her heart pounding in her chest. Her emotions were a swirling storm—grief, guilt, anger—all clawing at her from the inside. She had just let Eden and Simon go, and with each passing second, the weight of her decision bore down on her. Why did I do it? The question repeated itself in her mind, but no answer could make sense of the chaos she felt.
She stared into the forest, the shadows swallowing Eden and Simon whole. She wanted to run after them, to stop them from disappearing, but she couldn't. They had already made their choice, and so had she. She had let them go. It's over, she thought bitterly. There's nothing more I can do.
But deep down, she knew she had done what she had to. Eden had asked her, begged her to let go. And Simon—Simon had only done what he thought was right. His devotion to Eden, his willingness to carry the burden of being labeled a traitor, had only solidified what Elise already knew. She was powerless in this situation.
I can't change their path, Elise thought, a sense of acceptance beginning to take root. Eden doesn't belong in the role Lady Ymir wants her to play. And Simon… he doesn't belong in this village anymore, not with what he's chosen to do.
For a long moment, Elise stood still, the weight of everything pressing against her chest. But then, a calmness began to wash over her. I can't keep thinking like this. It won't change anything. They've made their choice. Now I have to make mine.
She straightened, wiping her eyes as she focused on the task at hand. There was still much to do. She couldn't allow herself to crumble now. With one final, shaky breath, Elise took a step back, steadying herself. It was time to face what lay ahead, no matter how impossible it felt.
With a heavy heart, Elise turned back toward the hut. She forced herself to move, each step a reminder of the turmoil inside her. She didn't know what else to do, so she focused on the task at hand. She needed to prepare for the night.
Inside the hut, she moved through the motions. She combed her hair, the strands slipping through her fingers like a fading memory. She gathered up some of Eden's makeup and carefully applied it, just as she had seen Eden do so many times before. The familiar feeling of the makeup on her face, the heavy weight of the dress—Eden's dress—made everything feel so much more real, so much more final. The ritual, her role as the Priestess, was all happening. She was becoming the part she never truly wanted to play. She needed to give Eden as much time as possible before Lady Ymir and the village went after them. It only took a couple of hours for them to find that monster.
The veil rested on her head, its delicate fabric just adding to the burden she already carried. She could almost feel Eden's presence in the dress, and for a moment, she closed her eyes, wishing things were different. But when she opened them again, the decision was made, and there was no going back.
Elise took a deep breath and turned towards the door, her heart still heavy but determined. She had to follow through. She had to go to the plaza. Lady Ymir would be waiting, and so would the rest of the village.
She walked out into the night, the cool air biting at her skin as she made her way toward the plaza. Each step felt like it was taking her further away from the people she cared about. And as she approached the plaza, the sounds of the village echoed in her ears, growing louder as the ritual loomed closer.
She walked out into the night, the cool air biting at her skin as she made her way toward the plaza. Each step felt like it was taking her further away from the people she cared about. And as she approached the plaza, the sounds of the village echoed in her ears, growing louder as the ritual loomed closer.
Elise paused for a moment at the edge of the square, her eyes sweeping over the crowd. The villagers had already gathered, their faces lit by torchlight, shadows flickering across their expressions. There was an expectant hush in the air, the kind that came before something sacred. All eyes were turned toward the center of the plaza, where the altar stood, flanked by wooden totems carved with ancient symbols.
Lady Ymir stood tall at the far end of the altar, her ceremonial robes trailing behind her like roots from the old gods. Her gaze was fixed not on Elise, but on the cage at her side. Inside it, the creature cowered—still shivering, its body bruised and its movements feeble. Its pale eyes darted about, panicked, as though it understood what was coming.
Elise followed Lady Ymir's gaze, but her eyes flickered once toward the edge of the woods. The forest loomed in the distance—dark, silent, impenetrable. Eden and Simon were long gone by now. Still, Elise knew that every moment counted. In the dark, wrapped in Eden's dress and veil, no one would recognize her until it was too late.
Her heart thudded as Lady Ymir finally turned and caught sight of her. Elise's breath hitched, but Lady Ymir's expression didn't change. She didn't look suspicious. If anything, she seemed relieved, her attention already shifting back to the caged creature. She raised her hand, signaling the hunters to prepare the altar.
Then, in a clear, commanding voice that rang through the hushed plaza, Lady Ymir began to speak.
"Tonight," she announced, "we honor the sacred contract forged long ago. Through this ritual, the priestess shall be bound to the gods, and in return, she will be granted their blessing—the gift of vision and protection. As it has always been, the power must be earned... through the dance of devotion."
Elise's blood ran cold. The dance.
Her fingers trembled, and for a second, she nearly turned and fled. Can I even do this? She had seen Eden practice it dozens of times—fluid motions like whispers to the gods, a graceful offering of body and spirit. But Elise had never done it herself. She didn't know the meaning behind each gesture, only the shapes Eden had left in the air.
Still, she had no choice.
The soft sound of flutes and harps began to rise, weaving together a melody as delicate as the night wind. Drums joined slowly, steadily, and low like a heartbeat. Elise stepped forward onto the altar, each movement deliberate, measured. Her limbs felt stiff at first, like a puppet pulled by trembling strings.
She began to move—her arms curving through the air, her fingers tracing the paths she'd seen Eden draw so many times. Her feet stepped lightly over the wooden platform, following the rhythm, the echo of Eden's grace haunting every motion. She twirled the hem of the dress just so, tilted her head just as Eden used to do when the music rose.
Her veil swayed with every turn. The crowd watched in silence, entranced. No one said a word. No one stopped her.
So far, no one had noticed.
And Elise danced—each movement a silent prayer, each step a plea for time.
The music swelled, rising toward its climax. The flutes trilled higher, the drums beat faster, and Elise spun, the hem of her borrowed dress sweeping the floor like a whisper of wind. The crowd remained silent, eyes fixed on her, reverent and breathless.
And then—she heard it.
A whisper.
So faint, it could have been the wind. So sudden, it nearly broke her rhythm.
Elise stumbled for just a heartbeat, catching herself before the motion faltered too much. Her breath caught in her throat as she glanced around. No one had moved. The villagers still stood in rapt attention, gazes locked on her. No one else seemed to have noticed anything at all.
Had it just been her imagination?
Then it came again.
Closer this time. Clearer.
A woman's voice, soft and trembling. "Please… help me."
Elise's pulse quickened. Her movements continued, more automatic now than intentional, as her eyes darted through the crowd, scanning for the source. But everyone stood still, respectful, waiting for the rite to reach its end.
Then, like a glint of starlight in the dark, something shimmered—just at the edge of her vision.
Wings.
Not large, not grand, but delicate and gleaming like morning dew caught in sunlight. They fluttered once, catching her full attention, then moved silently toward the altar… toward the cage.
Elise's breath caught again, her dance faltering slightly before she forced her body to keep moving, her hands flowing, her steps light. She edged closer to the cage, each motion still within the ritual's rhythm, though now it was taking all her focus just to keep dancing.
Was it the creature?
The shivering being inside the cage, barely more than a shadow against the wood and straw—it was looking at her now. No longer fearful, no longer wild. Its eyes, glowing faintly, locked with hers, deep pools of desperation and grief.
Then, with unmistakable clarity, the voice came again. Inside her head.
"Please," it said. "I have done nothing wrong. I don't want to die."
Elise's whole body chilled. Her feet moved her in time with the final stanza of the dance, but her heart pounded wildly beneath her ribs. She was nearly at the end, nearly at the moment when the priestess would raise her hands and accept the blessing of the gods.
But now, everything inside her screamed that something was wrong.
She drew closer to the cage with each passing step, her eyes never leaving the creature. And then—right as the last soft note of the harp trembled in the air—she saw them.
It's eyes.
Soft, humanlike. Wide with fear. Pleading.
And again, the voice, like a whisper wrapped in wind: "Please… help me."