From waves to peaks: claimed by the mountain Prince

CHAPTER 4 – No One Left

The man lunged for her with savage intent, his eyes wild with bloodlust beneath the flickering torchlight.

Kassandra barely twisted aside, her heart hammering in her chest like a trapped bird. Time seemed to slow as she felt the whisper of steel against her skin, the polished blade catching the air just where her throat had been a heartbeat before. She stumbled backward, her legs suddenly weak with terror, crashing against the cold stone altar that stood as the centerpiece of the ancient chamber. The impact sent a jolt of pain up her spine and knocked the ceremonial white linen from her mother's still form, revealing the ashen face that had once been so full of life. As the fabric billowed to the floor, Kassandra caught a glimpse of her attacker readying himself for another strike, his knuckles white around the hilt of his weapon, the distance between them shrinking with each ragged breath she took.

A gasp tore from her throat—half sob, half scream.

Another figure appeared in the doorway. Then another. Faces she knew. Faces from her village. Fishermen, net-weavers, women who once smiled at her as a child. Now they watched her with grim, hollow eyes.

“She’s here,” someone muttered. “The priestess’s daughter. The sea will be appeased.”

“No!” Kassandra cried, but her voice was swallowed by the rising wind.She tried to run

“Take her!” a man shouted, pointing with a trembling hand.

“She’s the virgin the Sea God demands!” another cried.

“She’s the reason the storms rage! The priestess lied to us!”

Kassandra’s breath caught as the crowd surged forward. Their faces were twisted by grief, fear, and anger—a dangerous combination. Some looked ashamed, others determined. None stepped forward to defend her.

King Anthony Onasis stood at the rear of the crowd, wrapped in a heavy cloak. His face was a mask of cold regret. He didn't move to stop them. He had been her mother's confidant. The only one who knew of her existence outside the temple walls. And he betrayed her.And now he would preside over her death to save his own daughters. Kassandra’s chest twisted with fury and heartbreak. Maria had trusted him, her mother had given years of service to their community and now, now when they should all band together, it had come to this.

Fool, Kassandra thought bitterly. We were both fools.

As hands grabbed for her, Kassandra turned and bolted deeper into the woods.Her mothers words of warning to run and not look back were still ringing in her ears. She should have listened, but then... then she would never have known that her mother was gone. Perhaps it would have been a mercy to not have known.

She ran wildly, tears blinding her. Twisting between trees, leaping over roots, her bare feet torn by sharp stones. Somewhere behind her, the villagers gave chase, their angry cries mixing with the wailing wind.

But no matter how fast she ran, they were faster. Stronger. There were too many of them.

Rough hands finally seized her. She fought like a cornered wolf, scratching and kicking, but it was no use. They dragged her from the forest toward the cliffs.

Ahead, the Plateau of the Tides loomed—a jagged slab of rock that jutted over the raging sea below. It was a sacred place where offerings were made to the Sea God when times were dire. This was where they would sacrifice her.Kassandra stumbled, her legs nearly giving out when she saw the crowd gathered at the cliff’s edge. Torches flickered in the stiff, salty wind. Faces she had known her entire life stared back at her—some grim, some tearful, but most resigned.

They threw her into a rough shack made from driftwood and rusted nails near the plateau's edge. The door slammed shut behind her, bolted from the outside. It smelled of mildew and ash. Salt stung her lips. She fell to her knees, arms still bound, breath ragged.

Her mother was dead.The King had betrayed her.

Kassandra curled into a corner, trembling from cold and rage and heartbreak. She hugged her knees to her chest and stared blankly at the cracks in the walls. They thought killing her would save them. They thought offering her up would calm the furious sea.

Hours passed—or maybe only minutes. Time blurred into a sick, rolling nausea as Kassandra sat huddled in the corner, listening to the village beyond the shack. She heard preparations—the building of bonfires, the chanting of old rites half-forgotten and half-remembered. The mournful beat of a drum echoed across the plateau.

The sun dipped low, staining the sea with blood-red light.

Footsteps crunched toward the shack. The storm outside abated, leaving only the moan of the sea and the crackle of the torches. Kassandra sat motionless, her mind numb, her heart shredded. The door creaked open again.

A woman entered—a villager, older, with streaks of gray in her hair. Her hands were full: a simple white robe and a length of ceremonial rope.

She paused upon seeing Kassandra huddled there, and her expression softened. Something so pained lay behind her blue eyes clouded with age.

Kneeling down, she placed the robe beside her. Her fingers trembled as she began to untie the rough bindings from Kassandra’s wrists.

“You have her eyes,” the woman whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Your mother’s eyes.”

Kassandra stared at her, silent and wary.

The woman sighed, brushing a lock of damp hair from Kassandra’s forehead.“I thought you had died as an infant, you know,” she murmured, smoothing out the robe with shaking hands." I could tell when your mother was pregnant with you. I used to visit the temple to pray for my sons before they sailed. Maria glowed then—like the moon and every star in the night sky. But afterward... no child ever came.” The woman’s mouth trembled.“We all assumed she had lost you. Stillbirth can be such a sorrowful thing. It happens more than we like to speak of. And sometimes... sometimes the sadness is too great to put into words.”

Kassandra’s throat tightened. Her lip quivered. She bit it to keep from sobbing, but the tears came anyway.

The woman gently untied her wrists, wincing at the bruises.“I’m so sorry, child,” she whispered. “I served with your mother for many years. I should have known. "I should’ve asked.” She helped Kassandra into the white robe, tying it with trembling fingers.Then she paused. Her hands hovered. Her mouth opened and shut again.

Kassandra closed her eyes against the rush of fresh grief. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about it—what her mother had carried alone all those years. The secret she bore. The lies she wove to keep Kassandra safe. Tears slid down her cheeks.

The woman helped her into the robe with gentle hands, tying the rope loosely around her waist. When she finished, she knelt there for a moment longer, as if debating some terrible decision. Finally, she stood, her shoulders hunched. At the threshold of the shack, she hesitated.

Then, slowly, she dropped something from her hand.

It clinked softly on the wood. A key. Without looking back, the woman stepped out and closed the door behind her.

Kassandra stared at the key, breathless.

Was this real?

Her heart hammered so loudly she thought the whole village must hear it. This could be her salvation.

She crawled forward with shaking hands and knees, scooping the key into her fist. It was rough with rust, but surely it would still work. She picked it up and held it tight. She didn’t know what lay ahead. But she knew one thing:

She would not die on this plateau. Not like this.