CHAPTER 2 – Whispers of Sacrifice
1324 Words
The Sea Kingdom groaned under the weight of its fear.
The nets came back empty, day after day. Storms battered the shores even in seasons when the skies should have been calm. Boats disappeared beneath the frothing waves, and whole villages along the coastline spoke of angry spirits stalking the waters. The old superstitious words of long ago running rampant among the people.
In hushed, desperate tones, the elders remembered the old ways — the ancient rites abandoned generations ago. A sacrifice, they whispered. A pure offering to the Sea God, to still his wrath and bless the waters once more. It would be simple, they could bring all of this to an end if they appeased the Gods of the surf and sea.
Not just any sacrifice. A maiden untouched by a mate or child, whose blood would bind the tides to peace again. The problem lay there, most Omega daughters were presented to the community at 18 to find a mate. While all families hoped their precious children would find their fated mate, the most powerful of love ties, among the village, most were happy to simply find a good and honest alpha from a good family for their omegas.
For this reason the number of eligible Omega was low.
In fact, in all the Sea Kingdom, only three such maidens remained: Penelope and Ophelia — the twin daughters of King Anthony Onasis — and Kassandra Rhodes, hidden daughter of the priestess Maria.
A secret known only to two souls: Maria herself, and King Anthony.
---
The high hall of Sea Stone Keep throbbed with panic. Fishermen shouted over each other. Elders wailed and pounded their staffs on the stone floor. Mothers clutched their starving children.
Anthony Onasis, King of the Southern Seas, sat heavily on his throne of driftwood and coral. His sea-blue cloak pooled around his tattered gray boots, soaked from the endless rain. His face — once proud, once certain — was now worn and lined, a man drowning beneath the weight of failure.
He had arrived to bury the old ways that hindered his father. He had lifted his people into prosperity. He had pushed trade with the other kingdoms. He still valued the faith of his forefathers, but understood that a man must guide his own destiny.
But prosperity had turned to famine.Faith had soured into fear. Now he was faced with a crowd of people he had known his whole life, friends and neighbors chanting for an end to their troubles. Begging for something their King wasn't sure he could provide.
"The Gods are angry!" an elder cried, voice raw with anger and frustration. "The storms will not stop! The fish are gone! The blood debt must be paid!"
Anthony closed his eyes. Hoping somewhere in the darkness of his own heart a better answer would surface.
The chants rose like a tide: "A sacrifice! A sacrifice! A sacrifice!"
He opened his eyes — and saw Penelope and Ophelia, his daughters, pressed against the throne’s base, their faces pale with terror. So young at only 17 they were not due to be debuted until next season. He had so much hope for them to find mates that would love and cherish them as he.dis their mother, may the gods rest her soul. So fragile. He had sworn to protect them.
And then came the question — the one he had feared.
"Who among us shall offer their child?" demanded the crowd.
Silence that cut like an knife.
No one dared to name the king’s blood.Yet the undercurrent of stares directed to his kin felt as loud as any shout from the rabble.
Anthony’s fists clenched on the arms of his throne. He always considered himself a trustworthy man, a steadfast man. Yet here in the face of destruction his morals crumbled like the fragile sands of the village shore. He had to chose his children first.
"There is another," he said, his voice cutting through the uproar.
The hall fell deathly silent.
The storm shrieked against the stone walls like a living thing. A monster in the darkness feeding off the hate and fear.
"The priestess Maria has hidden a daughter," Anthony continued, forcing the betrayal from his throat. "A virgin. Strong. Unclaimed by a mate and now in her 23 year, her name... is Kassandra."
A hiss ran through the crowd — outrage and excitement.
"Hidden from us!" someone shouted." The priestess is a fraud! she would lie while concealing this from us!"
"Defying the gods will! She knew she could save us! " another spat.
The mob’s rage turned, crackling like dry tinder. They would have their sacrifice.And Kassandra would be the price.
The kings hung his head in silence as the people flooded into the streets. They were heading to claim Maria's daughter. The child she had sworn to him must be kept secret for a.greater purpose.
He had condemned her.
---
The wind screamed across the cliffs.
Kassandra crouched low behind a rocky outcropping, her dark red hair plastered to her cheeks by the rain. She peered over the stones — and her blood turned to ice.
A sea of torches bobbed up the path toward their home.
"They're coming," she whispered.
Maria’s hand clamped onto her shoulder, grounding her. "Listen to me," she said fiercely. "You must run."
Kassandra shook her head, heart hammering. "No — not without you!"
"You must," Maria said, voice shaking for the first time Kassandra could remember. "I will buy you time. You must find the old goat paths. Get to the mountains."
The mountains.
The forbidden lands beyond the reach of the sea.Only the trades men and warriors where permitted to travel beyond their land.
But Kassandra could barely think past the terror clawing inside her.
Maria pressed something into her hand — a small pendant, a curling wave made of cold iron. Her mother's charm.
"Keep to the forests if you must," Maria urged. "Hide. But if you can, go beyond. Do not let them catch you."
The mob howled closer, shapes moving between the rocks.
Maria kissed her forehead, her touch trembling. "Go, Kassandra. Now, you have waited long enough as it is my heart."
A lit arrow whirled through the air, smashing against the rocks above them. The villagers were almost upon them.
Kassandra bolted.
Her legs carried her into the shadows without thought, heart slamming against her ribs. She ducked low beneath gnarled tree limbs, branches clawing at her hair and cloak.
Behind her, she heard Maria's voice rising, commanding the villagers to stop, invoking the old rites — but the mob would not be calmed. Their fear outweighed faith.
Kassandra's chest heaved as she ran deeper into the forest, her wolf whispering beneath her skin to shift, to flee faster. But she held back. Shifting would leave a scent trail. She couldn’t risk it.
Ahead, between tangled roots and slick mud, she saw it: a dark s***h in the hillside.
A cave.
Without thinking, Kassandra scrambled inside, scraping her hands bloody against the rough stone. She crouched deep within, wrapping her arms around her knees, shivering.
She was supposed to keep running. Her mother had told her to escape to the mountains.
But Kassandra couldn’t make herself go.
Not yet.
What if Maria escaped them? What if she needed her help?She had to stay, shouldn't she?
What if she could still go home?
Tears stung her eyes. She pressed her forehead against her knees, clutching the pendant tight in her fist.
She would wait here. Just for a little while.
Just until it was safe.
Just until her mother came for her.She would come and everything would be fine, that's what Kassandra kept telling herself. The people respected her mother, their family had served the temple for generations.
Outside, the storm raged on, drowning the cliffs in fury.
And somewhere not far away, the Sea Kingdom hunted for her blood.
- Writer
