The offering
1046 Words
The year is 2030, and I think the world feels… quieter than it should.
Evalin Duskthorn hummed as she braided wildflowers into her hair, her bare feet brushing through the overgrown gardens of her family’s estate. At nineteen, she knew little of the world beyond the crumbling walls of her home. The wars, the collapse, even the Rethari’s rise—she’d been shielded from it all, told only that the reptilian rulers were "stern but kind."
Her mother had smiled when she handed her the small laced transparent gown that evening.
"You’ll make us proud, little dove."
Evalin had never seen the sky so dark that night.
Tonight felt heavier, like the air itself was holding its breath.
She stood by the cracked window, fingers curled into the torn curtain, watching the transport vehicles roll down the street.
Black. Silent. Too smooth for human machines.
Her chest tightened.
“They’re here,” her mother whispered.
Evalin turned slowly. “No… they said next week.”
Her mother didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.
The knock came—not loud, not forceful, but final. Three measured taps, Evalin’s heart began to pound so hard it made her dizzy.
“I don’t want to go,” she said, her voice barely above a breath. “Mother, I don’t want to go…”
Her mother crossed the room quickly, taking Evalin’s face in her hands. Her palms were cold.
“You have to listen to me,” she said, her voice shaking despite her effort to stay strong. “You must be good. Quiet. Don’t argue. Don’t make them angry.”
Evalin nodded quickly, tears already forming. “I’ll be good. I promise. I’ll do anything—just don’t let them take me.”
The second knock came. Closer this time.
Heavier. Her mother pulled her into a tight embrace, pressing a kiss into her hair.
“I’m so sorry.” The door opened and everything changed.
—
They didn’t look like monsters.
That was the worst part.
The two reptilian enforcers who stepped inside were tall, their movements smooth and deliberate. Their eyes—sharp, slit pupils—scanned the room in a way that made Evalin feel like she was being measured, not seen.
“Evalin Duskthorn ,” one of them said.
She flinched at the sound of her name.
Her mother’s grip tightened around her hand.
“Yes,” her mother answered instead.
A pause.
Then:
“She will come with us.”
No please. No asking. Just a statement.
Like it had already happened.
Evalin shook her head, stepping back instinctively. “No… please…”
Her voice cracked.
The reptilian’s gaze shifted to her.
Cold.
Unmoving.
“You have been selected under the Repayment Act,” he said. “Resistance is unnecessary.”
Unnecessary.
Like her fear meant nothing.
Her mother gently pushed her forward.
Evalin stumbled.
“Mother—!”
“It’s okay,” her mother whispered, though her voice broke completely now. “It’s okay, my love. You’re going to be okay.”
But Evalin could see it in her eyes.
She didn’t believe that.
—
The ride was silent.
Evalin sat curled into the corner of the transport, her hands clenched in her lap so tightly her knuckles hurt. She didn’t dare look at the enforcers across from her.
She didn’t dare speak.
The city passed by in broken fragments through the dark glass—ruined buildings, empty streets, people who didn’t look up. No one tried to stop it. No one ever did. After what felt like hours, the vehicle slowed then stopped.
The door opened with a soft hiss. “Out,” one of them said. Evalin hesitated, then a sharper tone: “Now!” She quickly stood, her legs shaky, and stepped out, only to freeze up again.
The council structure stood before her—massive, towering, impossibly smooth. It didn’t look built. It looked… grown.
Dark material curved upward like it was alive, reflecting faint light in unnatural patterns.
Her breath caught. This is where they live.
This is where I’m going to disappear or get eaten alive…
—
Inside, everything was quiet. Too quiet.
No footsteps echoed. No voices carried. Just a stillness that pressed in on her from all sides.
She was led down a long corridor. Then another. Then—They stopped. The door in front of them opened without being touched.
“Enter.” The voice came out with a feral growl. Evalin swallowed hard and stepped inside.
—
He was already there. Standing near the far end of the room, partially turned away. He was tall, still, and unmoving like a statue. Something about him made the air feel heavier.
The enforcers didn’t speak. They simply turned and left, the door closing behind them with a soft click that sounded far too final.
I was alone. With him. My breath came faster now, panic creeping in. “I—I’m sorry,” I blurted out suddenly, my voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to— I’ll do whatever I’m supposed to, I just—please—”
“Silence.”
The word cut through me like a blade, and I froze instantly. He turned slowly, his eyes landed on me—and didn’t move. Sharp. Golden. Inhuman.
Studying me. I felt my throat tighten as he stepped closer.
Once.
Twice.
Each step deliberate and controlled. “You speak too much human,” he said calmly.
My lips pressed together immediately.
Tears started to stream down my cheeks. He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could feel the faint warmth of him—unexpected and unsettling.
His gaze moved over my face. Not cruel.
Not kind. Just… assessing. “This is the one?” he said, almost to himself. I didn’t answer.
Didn’t dare. A long pause stretched between them.
Then: “You will stay here.” My breath hitched.
“You will not leave without permission.”
He stepped closer. “You belong to this council now.” My chest tightened painfully.
And then—His voice lowered slightly.
“—to me.”
My knees nearly gave out. And in that moment, I realized something far worse than fear.
I wasn’t just taken.
I was chosen.
—
- Writer
