The Blood of Rosie

Chapter 2

As the town crier's words rang in my ears, time appeared to slow down. "Rosie" had been designated as this year's Hasta's final sacrifice. My pulse hammered in my chest, and my mind raced as I tried to grasp the surprise of this unexpected turn of events. It couldn't possibly be me. It simply couldn't.

"This can't be real... this can't be real." No!" I muttered, my gaze fixed on the parchment neatly unfolded by the town crier.

Fear, fury, and incredulity all swirled about within me like a whirlwind. My mother's face was pale, and she held her chest, as if attempting to calm her beating heart. Beth and Eliza exchanged troubled looks, their expressions matching the misery that had engulfed me.

As the gravity of the situation became clear to me, I appealed to my mother for advice. Her shaking lips formed words, but her voice could hardly be heard above a whisper. "Rosie, my dear, you must depart." It's the cost of doing business."

My tears streamed down my face. "The price we pay." I repeated myself.

A lump formed in my throat, and tears welled up once more. Nonstop. How could I abandon my family knowing what awaited me in Hasta? The vampires, the auctions, the uncertainty—it was a nightmare I'd always hoped to avoid.

Beth, being the courageous soul, tried to put on a brave face. "Rosie, we'll figure it out." We'll find a solution. You don't have to go through this on your own."

Eliza, on the other hand, couldn't keep her tears from falling. Her petite figure trembled with sobbing as she buried her face in my shoulder. I held her tight, attempting to console her, but on the inside, I was fighting back tears.

The Hasta's weight had fallen on us all, and the community had become silent. The crier went on to explain the details, such as when and where the sacrifices would be collected, as well as the preparations that would be required. It seemed as if the world had stopped turning, leaving just the awful reality of our fate.

The inhabitants began to scatter as the crier exited the village square, their faces etched with worry, their footsteps heavy with the weight of the impending Hasta. The harsh ritual weighed heavily on everyone, and the air was thick with a common sense of dread. I watched as the townspeople faded into the night, leaving behind a disturbing silence that seemed to reflect the impending disaster.

My mother drew me into a close embrace, tears streaming down her face. "Be strong, my Rosie," she said quietly, her voice shaking with love and despair. Her arms wrapped around me as if she could protect me from the horrors that lay ahead, but I knew she, too, was powerless in the face of the awful fate that loomed over us.

My voice clogged by dread and sadness, I nodded. But what other option did I have? I couldn't let my family down, and I couldn't stand the notion of Eliza and Beth being alone in this harsh world.

Beth took a step forward, her determination visible in her eyes. She gripped my shoulders tightly, her stare fixed on me. "What if we run away?" Rosie, are you with me?" Her remarks were packed with conviction, and a glimmer of hope flared within me at the prospect of fleeing our terrible fate as a unified family.

The day dragged on, each passing second tinged with the phantom of the Hasta. An uncomfortable silence reigned inside our tiny cottage, and the weight of my imminent fate weighed thick in the air. The implications of being picked for the blood slave bidding cast a dark cloud over all of us.

"The price we pay... the price we pay," my thoughts repeated continuously around my neck, like chains that had shackled not only my body but also my spirit. The very walls of our small dwelling seemed to bear witness to our collective anguish.

I want to be free of the Hasta's grasp, to be free of the cords that chained me to this awful tradition. But with each passing hour, the knowledge sunk in—it was an unavoidable fate, one I couldn't escape.

The truth of my upcoming sacrifice began to sink in over the next few days. Beth and I huddled at night, planning plans and looking for any ray of hope. We examined books for any clues that could help us avoid this fate, but the Hasta seemed to be an unbreakable custom.

Eliza insisted on assisting, her resolve shining through her tears. "We'll figure something out, Rosie." We're not going to let them take you."

The days stretched into weeks, and the Hasta approached. The people offered their assistance, some with encouraging words and others with tiny gifts to assist us on our journey. Despite our severe circumstances, a spirit of unity and camaraderie had developed among us as a result of our common battle.

Our house was filled with bittersweet memories on the eve of my departure. My mother clutched me tightly, her tears streaming down my cheek. "Rosie, you've always been the strong one. Keep that in mind."

Beth gave me a little pendant that was a family treasure. "Please keep this with you. It represents our love and hope."

Eliza, still trying to be courageous, said quietly, "Promise me you'll come back."

I hugged them all, unable to describe my feelings of love and thanks. I left our quaint little house with a sad heart, ready to face the horrors of Hasta but resolved to find a way back to the family I cherished.

An terrible foreboding surrounded me like a cloak of darkness as I warily stepped beyond the poorly illuminated pathway towards the wagons. The night sky loomed overhead, veiled by heavy clouds that appeared to lament the impending sacrifices. Each stride I made was weighed down by the crushing weight of my fate, weighing down on my shoulders and left me gasping for air in the cool, eerie night.

A disturbing scene awaited me in the midst of Ordep Village's plaza. Caged wagons loomed over the landscape, their metal bars and wooden enclosings creating frightening shadows. These menacing wagons were a harsh reminder of the misery that awaited me and the other unlucky souls chosen for the wretched Hasta.

The Rundtri guardsmen, dressed in intimidating armor, radiated authority and intimidation. Their presence simply added to the atmosphere of terror and misery that hung over the ritual's unfortunate victims. Families who had witnessed their beloved sons and daughters chosen for the blood slave bidding wept, their voices reverberating through the town like a melancholy lament. Ordep Village seemed to be enveloped in a collective outcry of sadness and dread, generating a sense of great sorrow and imminent catastrophe.

On this foreboding night, as I stood among a throng of other victims, I could feel the weight of my approaching doom weighing down on me. I moved, felt freedom evaporating from my palms.

"Rosie Rufus?"

"Yes, sir," I replied.

"To the wagon," he said.

The Rundtri guard's leader, a big and powerful figure, cast a dubious glance my way as he shouted out each name on the bidding list. Rosie was the name that remained on his lips, and I could feel his scrutiny, though I couldn't figure out why.

The names were called out one by one, and each person hesitantly went up, their faces etched with fear and misery. This dreadful ordeal would soon befall me as well.

As I saw my fellow villagers being herded into the caged wagon, their sobs and moans filling the air, I realized I couldn't afford to suffer the same fate. I was known for my independence and cleverness, and I had a plan in the works—a bold escape from this nightmare life.

I remained composed as I boarded the wagon with ten other slaves, their tear-stained faces glittering in the low light, my heart a steady throb of determination. Inside, I was already planning my escape.

My mind raced through the possibilities. I may flee to Ordep and rejoin my family, getting as far away from Varona as possible. Perhaps I'd contemplate the desperate idea of jumping off a cliff, preferring to end a life of servitude quickly. Or, just maybe, I could use my wits to barter for my life with an elite vampire family, hoping for mercy.

"Rosie!" As the wagon began to move, I heard my siblings' and mother's sobbing one final time, and my resolve strengthened. I would not disappoint them.

As we were dragged away from our homes and loved ones, the entire hamlet erupted in sobs and misery.

As we got further away from the settlement, the palpable weight of solitude fell on me. It wasn't just a feeling; it was an absorption into the deepest depths of isolation. Each step away from the familiar terrain of Ordep Village reminded me of the loneliness that awaited me on this perilous voyage. The once lively streets had become a lonesome walk, and the voices of my fellow villagers had faded into the distance.

Loneliness was more than simply a feeling; it was a sharp reality that surrounded me, making me intensely aware of the lack of human connection. My former companionship and camaraderie were now distant echoes, replaced by the cold, unchanging presence of solitude. It was a loneliness that cut deep, tearing at my spirit as I ventured deeper into the unknown, with only the somber silence of the night and the weight of my own thoughts for company.

I noticed a change in the atmosphere as the wagon rumbled on, a hundred miles from Ordep, through the dark woodland towards the auction place. Something lurking just beyond the shadows in the woods.

"What was that?" one of the slaves said, their voice wavering as they recognized the uncomfortable presence.

The wagon traveled into the forest, each passing instant increasing the tension until anarchy broke out. An explosion shook the wagon, flipping it upside-down. As an ambush unfurled, the guardsmen were thrown into disorder, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of thrill and anticipation as the battle raged around us. For the first time in my life, the tables had shifted, and the prospect of independence felt tantalizingly close.