Wanted by my sworn enemy

The Sacrifice

"I'm in so much pain," she muttered, eyes closed deep in sleep.

"I know dear," that kind voice could only belong to an older woman. She pat Lilorith's back as though feeling compassion for her. Lilorith had never experienced having a grandmother, but she was sure this was what it felt like.

"My name is Tara. What is yours, child?"

Lilorith's eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the soft light filtering through the simple window of the hut. She found herself in a room adorned with woven tapestries depicting scenes of nature. The air carried the faint scent of herbs.

Tara smiled warmly. "You've had a rough night, dear. The pain should ease soon. I used a mixture of healing herbs to help you rest."

Lilorith shifted, her body still aching but with a noticeable reduction in the intensity of the pain. "Thank you," she mumbled, her voice hoarse from both exhaustion and the events that unfolded.

Tara continued to pat her back gently. "Rest a while longer. You're safe here. The women's village has a way of healing not just the body but the spirit too."

As Lilorith lay there, a flood of questions surged in her mind. Where was she? How had she ended up in this place? And most pressing of all, what happened with the wolf?

Tara seemed to sense the unspoken questions. "You're deep in Les Lunora. This village is a sanctuary for women. Gael brought you here."

Gael, so that was his name. Lilorith's brows furrowed in confusion. The memories of the forest, the pain, and his face flashed through her mind like disjointed fragments of a dream.

"He's the one who found you, injured and unconscious in the woods. He insisted on bringing you here." Tara's eyes held a mixture of tenderness and curiosity. "You're lucky he found you. The males don't usually venture near our village."

Lilorith's mind whirred with the implications of Tara's words.

Tara continued gently, "You're safe here, Lilorith. The women's village has been a haven for many women who needed refuge. We take in females who have been rejected by their mates, orphans, females who have been abused by their mates."

Lilorith felt a mixture of gratitude and skepticism. Trust didn't come easily, especially considering the supernatural entanglements that seemed to govern her life now.

Tara rose from her seat. "Take your time to rest. When you're ready, I'll explain more about our village and your new bond with Gael."

With those words, Tara left the room, leaving Lilorith alone with her thoughts. As she drifted between consciousness and slumber, the mysteries of Les Lunora and the enigmatic wolf who had brought her there remained shrouded in uncertainty.

She noticed the woman in her sleepy state, seemingly creating a mixture of some leaves and plants. After turning them into a paste, she put them on her neck. The pain in her body faded as the herbs took effect, and before long, Lilorith succumbed to a deep, dreamless sleep.

When she found herself awake again, there was a lot of hustle and bustle mixed with sounds of joy and children playing. She lifted her head to realize the pain wasn't even there anymore.

The older woman who had tended to her welcomed her with a warm smile as she walked out of the hut. "Good to see you up, dear. Come, let's have a chat." She sat on a bench in front of the hut beaming brightly at her. Tara pointed at the space next to her, invitingly.

Lilorith remained silent and leaned on the doorpost. Tara's smile fell a bit as she nodded, "It's as Gael said, you probably have a thing against wolves. Perhaps you'd feel much better among your own. If you tell me what you are, maybe we can find someone who understands you more."

Lilorith's eyes were glued to the river in the distance. The sound of water rushing over rocks and the gentle breeze carried a calming melody that contrasted with the storm of thoughts in her mind.

"See, the wolves are quite free with whom they take as mates. Due to the calling of fate. And we do not mind because our genes are dominant; many half-breeds have wolves."

Lilorith gritted her teeth at the term. The implications of being labeled a half-breed, a creature born of both worlds, both demon and witch, weighed heavily on her.

"So, you are indeed a half-breed?" Shock flashed over her face at the older woman's question, then confusion. "I thought so. I couldn't quite place your scent, and when I used that word, I perceived hurt, fear, and pain coming from you. The younger ones do not have a nose as strong as mine."

Tara stood up and placed a hand on Lilorith's frail shoulder, "Your secret is safe with me. Come."

She found herself following the older woman. They arrived at what looked like a bathhouse. But it was empty. Tara explained that the other women had already taken their baths. The air was thick with the sweet scent of herbs, and the warmth emanating from the tubs invited her to forget the world outside, if only for a moment.

Tara explained how the village worked. The majority of women actually come to get a break, and not all of them are here for healing. It was like a holiday place for them. Tara continued her explanation while asking Lilorith to undress and enter the tub. Lilorith hesitated for a moment, the vulnerability of undressing in front of a stranger tugging at her. But the genuine kindness in Tara's eyes reassured her.

As she sank into the warm water, Tara began to wash her hair. The older woman's fingers worked through her braids to reach her scalp, with a gentleness that contrasted the strength she undoubtedly possessed. Lilorith felt a mixture of discomfort and gratitude. It was a strange experience, this kindness from someone she barely knew, in a place that, despite its unfamiliarity, felt oddly comforting.

"The women's village has a way of healing not just the body but the soul," Tara said softly, her hands massaging Lilorith's scalp. "We've seen many women find strength and purpose here. It's a sanctuary in more ways than one."

Lilorith closed her eyes, allowing the warmth and the soothing touch to envelop her. This was a place to fix what that man had broken last night.

As Lilorith soaked in the warm water, the weight of her past began to fade, if only for a moment. The river's gentle murmur outside created a cocoon of tranquility. For the first time in a long while, Lilorith felt a glimmer of hope, uncertain yet undeniable.

Then a commotion began outside, disrupting the peaceful ambiance of the bathhouse. Lilorith opened her eyes, a flicker of worry in her gaze. Tara paused, a knowing look in her eyes as if she anticipated the disturbance.

Aunt Tara wrapped Lilorith in a soft towel, and they stepped out into the village. The scene that awaited them was both bewildering and unsettling. The villagers were gathered, their hushed conversations filled with a mix of curiosity and expectation.

Lilorith's eyes widened as she saw the wolf who had marked her last night stumbling into the village, pulling a large animal three times his size by its horns. His clothes were stained with blood, and he seemed on the verge of collapsing. Despite his weakened state, his gaze found Lilorith's, and there was an intensity in it that sent a shiver down her spine.

Tara's grip tightened on Lilorith's arm. "This is an ancient werewolf mating tradition," she explained, her voice low and calm. "To court a female, a werewolf offers a sacrifice. It's a symbolic gesture, meant to show strength and commitment. Gael is offering you this."

Lilorith's eyes flickered between Gael and the lifeless animal he carried. Confusion clouded her expression as the significance of the gesture sunk in. In the human world, she had never gotten so much as a flower before. Such acts might be considered barbaric, but here, in this supernatural realm, they hold a deeper meaning.

The village buzzed with whispers as Gael walked into the clearing, the scent of blood clinging to him like an aura, his long black hair clung to his pale cheeks. His once pristine appearance was now marred, and yet, there was an undeniable strength in the way he carried the massive animal.

Gael's gaze never left Lilorith as he approached, his steps steady despite the obvious strain on his body. The connection between them crackled in the air, a subtle undercurrent that defied explanation. His eyes bore into hers with an intensity that echoed the events of the night before.

Tara gently nudged Lilorith forward, urging her to acknowledge the sacrifice being laid at her feet. The large animal, its lifeless eyes staring into the beyond, spoke of the primal world Gael belonged to. It was a world of raw instincts and untamed passion, a stark contrast to the human realm Lilorith had known.

But she wasn't human, and neither was he. In the back of her mind she was reminded yet again that they weren't meant to be together. If he or anyone else found out that she was half demon, they would probably chase her away. Then again, wouldn't it be better if they chased her away?

As Gael presented the sacrifice, there was a vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored the exposed nerves of a beating heart. In this act, he bared not just the physical strength required to wrestle down a creature of the wild but the vulnerability that came with exposing one's true self.

He was a beast, a monster.

With the way he looked at her, one would think the creature lying down at their feet wasn't his prey, she was.

Lilorith felt the weight of the moment, the ancient tradition demanding her understanding and acceptance. Her gaze met Gael's, and for a fleeting second, the world around them seemed to dissolve. The boundaries between her and this werewolf blurred, leaving only the raw, unspoken connection that pulsed between them.

"Accepting the sacrifice is a sign of reciprocating a werewolf's interest," Tara whispered. "It's your choice, Lilorith. But know that if you accept, it means you're open to the possibility of a mating with Gael. You'll then be able to go with him and be his bride. You won't have to stay here with us. What is your choice?"