I was Sacrificed to Awaken the Ancient God

The Empire of Caelurein had always whispered of the dark god, Orryx, the name spoken only in hushed tones, feared but never truly understood. Beneath the gleaming city, the heart of the empire, was a secret buried so deep that even the most powerful mages dared not speak its name aloud. But in every shadow, every corner, it lingered, waiting, biding its time. Tirzeh never believed in the whispers. She had grown up in the streets of Caelurein, in the shadows of the grand citadels, where the common folk whispered of a great sacrifice, a ritual tied to a prophecy of untold power. A god who slumbered beneath them, needing only one thing to wake him with a pure soul, a woman to be offered to him in the name of power. They said it was for the empire's survival, that the god would bring prosperity and banish the hunger, the poverty, the fear that plagued the people. But Tirzeh had never seen it. She had never felt it. Not in the bitter winter nights, the famine, or the endless suffering of the people. Until she became the sacrifice. No one told her. Not even the Nine Magistri, the rulers of the empire who had lived their lives in the luxury granted by their twisted magic. They had used her-broken her, molded her-as part of a plan far older than her own life. They never saw her as a person, but a tool. A stepping stone to their ultimate goal. Her life was never hers to begin with. It was never meant to be. Not when they had already marked her. The prophecy had whispered her name, and now the world would make her pay the price. And in that final, desperate moment, when the cold steel of the blade was at her throat, when the mages chanted their ancient words and the world trembled beneath them… Tirzeh learned the truth. The god was real. But he wasn’t a savior. He was a beast. But worse still, he was already awake. He had always been awake. And he had been waiting for her.