Trigger Warnings! This story contains brief scenes of death, suicide, and murder in the context of human sacrifice, and also mentions of blood, starvation, and plague.

Our Sacrifice

by

C.P. Miller

As I sit in front of my small, shabby home and watch the midnight sky slowly lighten to a reddish gray, I remember the first spring we didn't have a sacrifice. Ellari and I had been ten. The Divines’ chosen pair were brothers, Niko and Kino. They were sixteen and, when they were chosen, they accepted proudly the duty that was theirs alone.

It is a great honor to be chosen, but like all truly great honors, it is a terrible burden too. I had not envied the older boys. Indeed, it was a relief to me that Ellari and I had not been granted that honor. Let them have the praise of the city, the accolades, and even the immense wealth. I was content with a full belly and a warm home and my twin beside me.

Thirty-three days of ritual and festivities would culminate in the Day of Giving. On that day, one brother would send the other to join the Ancients and serve as Divine Messenger between our world and theirs. For the first twelve, Kino and Niko performed all necessary ceremonies, but on the twelfth night, they fled the city without warning.

City peacekeepers, common citizens, even youngsters like myself, scoured Belmore’s ancient winding streets searching for them. Farmers and hunters spread out beyond the city swiftly. A scrap of clothing was found at the very edge of the forest. Some of the wealthy ordered their servants to form search parties and enter the forest near there. A few peacekeepers joined them. Not one soul that went in returned. Kino and Niko were gone.

It was unheard of for Chosen ones to abandon Belmore. Leaving at all was very rare. Only the most desperate would risk traveling beyond the safety of our city and fields. Death waited out there.

Still, a part of me couldn’t help but sympathise. They would die out there, but they would die together instead of facing a lifetime of separation. Yet, another part of me hated them for leaving.

When they left, they took with them the blessings of the Ancients. Sickly red clouds that had only ever lingered above the distant mountain range moved in to choke our once blue sky. The little rain they spat was foul smelling and burned any bit of flesh it struck.

Before that spring, I had known nothing but plenty, warm summers, gentle rains, and mild winters. I used to laugh at the elders when they told me, “Without sacrifice, life is impossible.” Ellari and I would nod at their seriousness trying in vain to restrain our smug grins. We thought their proverbs were silly superstitions, but they were right. They were more right than even they suspected.

Nine days left until the Day of Giving, the Council of Elders met amid growing panic. Fear and unrest had spread like a plague while they argued and debated for days. Even if another great lottery was held, there was not enough time left for all the necessary rituals of preparation.

The Spring Sacrifice on the Day of Giving is not some simple brutish ritual of a primitive bygone era. It is a thing of sacred duty and ancient commitment, and it must be done properly to honor our covenant with the Ancients. There are no shortcuts. Even knowing this, the Elders sought desperately to find one. In the end, they ignored Gray Mother's warnings and attempted to choose a substitute pair.

For the first time in recorded history, the great lottery was held twice in a single year. I remember all too well how frightened I was back then. It feels strange now, to face yet another lottery but not fear the outcome.

Every pair of twins between nine and thirty-three years of age were summoned to the great temple. There were so many of us at that lottery, we didn’t all fit within the ancient inner chapel. Firstborns stood gathered on one side and second-borns on the other. Next to the altar stood a great urn of gold tokens for the firstborn to draw their lots from, and on the other side stood a second massive urn, this one full of silver tokens.

I still remember the delicately engraved flower bud on my silver token. Its beauty had terrified me. I had not wanted to be chosen then, nor had I wanted the terrifying honor of serving as Divine Messenger. My hand was clutched tight around it, and the edges dug into my sweating palm while I had waited for the rest of the candidates to draw. There were so many twins eligible to serve back then. It took all day for the tokens to be drawn, and by the end, the urns were nearly empty.

If Ellari had drawn a golden flower bud token from her urn, my sister and I would be chosen. Back then, I had felt nauseous even with the thought unframed by words.

Two by two, each pair of twins came forward to present their tokens to Gray Mother, then return them to their respective urns. She smiled when she saw my token, but her smile faltered when she saw Ellari’s. She had drawn a skull. We were not chosen. No one was.

For the first time in the history of the great city of Belmore, lots were drawn by every traditionally eligible pair, and not a single set of twins held matching tokens. Most years, there were a small number who drew matches. From among them, the lots would be collected and drawn again until only a single pair remained. The Chosen. The first born would become Divine Speaker of Belmore, and the second born would become Divine Messenger of Heaven.

Gray Mother had cackled with bitter mirth before she began to weep. It was a sign she said. The Ancients wanted none of us. They wanted Niko and Kino. They would accept no substitute, and Belmore would suffer.

I’m still not sure why she laughed and then cried. Maybe she knew what would happen next.

Again our Council of Elders met. They debated all through that night. Debate turned to bickering. Five days remained before the Day of Giving. Time had run out the day Niko and Kino had disappeared, but elders can be as stubborn as mules, and we were all desperate for a solution. Against Gray Mother's wishes, they extended the pool of candidates. Every pair of twins must report. The youngest could barely speak and the oldest could barely stand.

That had been my third lottery. Ellari made me eat breakfast before we went to the temple. Dread made me throw it back up before we even stepped out of the house. That day, the temple was flooded with people, but I barely remember the tight press of bodies around me.

I do remember trembling as I plunged my hand into the urn for the third time in my life. For the third time in a single year, I prayed to the Divines not to choose me, not to make me leave Elarri and join them. My token was a skull. The same skull Ellari had drawn from the gold urn the day before. I wept loudly as others drew their tokens. Many people wept that day, mostly the youngest, but older folk as well.

Even the memory of how sick I felt makes me just a little bit queasy now, though that fear is no longer with me. I was sure I would lose my twin. I was not the only one.

But, for the second time in Belmore's history, there were no matching pairs. Ellari had drawn my flower bud. I did not like that we had drawn each other's coins. It felt like an omen, but Ellari held me tight and told me it would be alright. Her tears were wet in my hair, but her voice was steady. Her hands were steady. Ellari was always steady. Always sure of everything. Never afraid. Not like me . . .

This second failed lottery convinced the council to heed Gray Mother. She secluded herself for the handful of days that remained until the Day of Giving. When the holy day came, instead of Niko and Kino at the altar, there was only Gray Mother. Fatigue from her long days and sleepless nights of prayers was written in shadows under her eyes. Her voice was strong and steady, though she looked as if she might collapse at any moment. "Today, the Day of Giving, we have failed to honor our covenant with the Ancient Divines. We have forgotten that to be chosen is a duty even more than it is an honor. Today, our precious twin-borns fear to be chosen to serve Belmore.”

I had felt as if Gray Mother were speaking to me directly and guilt had twisted my belly as she went on. “They fear to serve the Ancients. They fear to serve their city and their people, because we have failed as a people, and for our failure, we shall be punished.” Grief cracked in her steady voice, but she continued, and her stern words carried out of the temple and to the densely crowded street beyond. “The burning red rains will poison the land and water. Our crops, our animals, and we ourselves will suffer as penance. Because one would not die, many will suffer and die in his place. Next year, we will hold another Great Lottery. It will be on the first day of spring . . ."

I don’t remember the rest of her speech. It must have been inspirational to many, because I do remember some people were smiling despite their fear. Outside though, under the thunderous blood thirsty clouds, there were no smiles. A blinding bolt of lightning struck the bell tower, and a deafening roll of thunder drowned out our screams of terror as the gathered crowd fled in a panic.

Up to that day, the red clouds that had moved in after Kino and Niko disappeared had only released a few stinging drops. Now, they unleashed the full fury of Those we had offended with our failure and cowardice. Elarri tugged me against the flow of the crowd, back toward the temple, and we waited there for the rain to stop.

Gray Mother’s predictions all came to pass. The crops people tried to sow never sprouted. Even weeds and grass began to die off, leaving nothing but scarlet mud right up to the edges of the forest. It was not only the foodstuffs that died unsprouted; flax for linen and the herbs grown for medicines also suffered. People’s clothing grew ragged, even among the wealthiest. Gold cannot ease hunger or clothe a cold body in winter any more than it can heal sickness.

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Animals grew ill, and those that didn’t starved with the rest of us. Worst was the sickness. It spread fast, wiping out whole families, whole neighborhoods, and even districts. By autumn, we were building massive funeral pyres.

In that first year, we lost half our people, or so the city scribes claim. I don’t know if they are right. It felt like more to me. Too many.

In the years that followed, there were no children born to replenish our numbers. More people died, though in smaller numbers and with less frequency. We were forced to gather from the edge of the forest in order to feed ourselves. For some reason, the red rains could not kill anything sheltered by the forest.

In the second year, our farmers planted their crops as close to the forest’s edge as possible. The harvest was meager, but with our greatly reduced numbers it was enough to keep most alive.

In the third year, a pair stepped forward and pleaded to be offered despite the fact their tokens did not match. A brother and sister, not identical, but they were twins, and they were stubborn. The council met, deliberated, and despite Gray Mother's doubts, it was decided they would be allowed to try. When the Day of Giving came, Meilo stood behind his sister and held her thin wrists gently as, together, they slit her throat.

People wept. People cheered. For a short time, there was hope despite some red lingering in the clouds. Seeds were planted with a new determination. The crops grew lush and plentiful for the first time in three years. Then, before it matured, a plague of insects swept over the land. They devoured everything in the fields. Poor Meilo was eaten alive, but no other person or animal suffered a single bite. Humbled and horrified, the council forbade volunteers. Their proclamation was hardly necessary.

That was fourteen years ago. Eighteen hard lean years in all. Belmore, which had once bustled with plenty and joy, had become a veritable necropolis. Most of those we lost were our oldest, our wisest, but a great many were our youngest. A few folk left Belmore each year, desperately hoping to find a better life beyond our city, beyond the forbidden forest. Some promised to return with food or word, but no one ever did.

Today, I have no friends left alive save for Ellari. I stopped making new friends because it is easier to burn the dead if they are not your friends. At least, that is what I keep telling myself. I thought I would grow numb, but I remember every face I have watched burn.

"Irella. It's time."

Numb, I look up into a hollow cheeked face identical to my own. Her eyes had once been so bright, so sure and bold. They have been more dead than mine since Mother’s death, and still Ellari tries to smile for me.

"Yes. It’s time." I am not afraid of today’s lottery. I have not been afraid of the lottery since I buried my last friend. A boy of sixteen. He might have become more than a friend, but he has gone to the Ancient Realm. I miss him terribly, even the way he would tug at my braids.

"Next year will be better." Ellari tells me as I gently touch the skin tight across her cheeks. She has said that every year. Today, I agree with her.

"It will." I wish I could ease my sister’s fear. It is the most emotion I have seen in her eyes in years. As my fear has faded, hers has grown. I can only pray she finds someone able to help her mend, or that perhaps I will be able to comfort her to some degree. After all, I won’t be entirely gone from this world. I will be a Divine Messenger. My spirit will travel back and forth between realms. Taking her thin hand in my own, I led her out into the street. There was no one left to walk with us.

All through the long famine, twins were prioritized, and we were the only pair our family boasted. They had given up their food, starved themselves to the last so that we might live. I still remember how proudly my mother would smile as she led us through the marketplace when it was full of life and food. Twins are uncommon, but identical twins are incredibly rare. Those days of smiles seem like a lifetime ago.

"Irella . . . I . . . I don't want to go." Ellari stops, her hand tightening around mine, holding me back.

"What?" For a moment, I don't understand.

"Niko and Kino . . . maybe they were right to run. If the Ancients demand such a terrible price . . ." There are tears shining in her sunken eyes. Her voice falls to a dry whisper. "If we're chosen . . . I . . . I can't. I can't lose you too."

I remember the silver tokens I drew. The flower bud and the skull. "Walk with me Ellari, and listen to me. If . . . if you still want to leave when we reach the temple, then we will."

"Do you promise?" My sister blinks back tears in vain, and a moment later, they spill down her hollow cheeks unchallenged by bony hand or ragged shirt sleeve.

"I promise." I start to walk again, and Ellari moves swiftly, trying not to give me time to convince her, but we are both weak from hunger, and the temple is a long way from our home on the edge of the city. Her pace slackens and we both pant for breath.

"Ellari. I need. To sit . . ." At my breathless pleas, she does not hesitate, but drops down onto the cracked and muddy paving stones right there in the middle of the road. It is empty after all. Eighteen years have passed, but I still remember clearly the thick crush of people that used to fill these city streets.

As I slowly recover my breath, I rest with my back against hers and finally manage to speak. "Do you remember what happened the year they left?"

"The tokens. Yes. I remember."

"A skull and a flower bud. I dream of those two tokens almost every night, and I have thought about them every day.” A single dry weak laugh escapes my cracked lips. “It feels like nearly every hour since that day."

"Death and new life. You cannot have one without the other," Ellari murmurs. We have never spoken of those tokens, but our thoughts have followed the same paths.

"Yes. I didn't understand at the time, but . . .I think I do now. I'm not afraid anymore Ellari."

"You think Ja'kahl is waiting for you."

"Yes. I . . . I miss him." Tears rise in my eyes and I let them spill unhindered.

"But I will miss you, Irella. I will be alone. I can't do it. I am not strong like you are."

I can't help myself. Her words make me laugh even as I weep quietly for my dead friend. "You are first born, Ellari. You were born to be the strong one. Remember when we were little, and that wretched noble nearly trampled us with her horse?"

"I pushed you out of the way." In her voice echoes the ghost of a smile.

"Yes. And she nearly trampled you to death. You lay deaf and dumb to the world for nearly a month. I was sure you would die."

"I don't remember that part. Just the horse and then waking up hungry. Oh, and you. Crying like an infant."

I smile at her teasing. "I wasn't crying. I was praying." Despite my smile, my words are defensive.

"You were crying and praying."

With a sigh I struggle to my feet. "Yes. I suppose I was. We should get moving again or we’ll be late." Ellari rises even more slowly, as if her legs can barely support her. "You won't be alone. Not really," I remind her as I help her up.

"You’ll be dead." Ellari's voice is brittle with anger and fear.

"Yes, but we will still be connected. The preparations will bind our spirits more tightly together than any oath or spell ever could. I will whisper to you through your dreams. Belmore needs the blessings of the Ancients, Ellari." I can see the temple ahead of us. It has withstood the years better than any other building. Lightning scorched the stones, but it could not bring them down. Perhaps the Ancients did build it as the scribes say. Those stones were old when the city was founded, or so I was taught.

With an effort, I pull my mind back from such idle thoughts. There are people around us now, all of them starving near to death, their clothing a ragged patchwork of thread bare scraps. "One day, you will join me in the Ancients’ realm. Then, we will be among our . . . our friends and family." My pace slows as we draw closer to the great open doors. “All those we’ve lost . . .”

There is a thick crowd of haunted faces gathered outside. They are all that remains of Belmore’s citizenry. Beyond the tall doors, the crowd of twins that once over-flowed the great temple is down to a dozen. Six pairs of twins. Seven counting us. "Irella . . . I don't—"

"I cannot do this without you Ellari," I whisper softly as I pull her forward. Where I expected resistance, there is only submission. "We can save all those who are still clinging tightly to life." I pause before the steps. "Look at them Ellari." Gently, I raise her chin, force her eyes up from the flagstones. She does not want to look. We both know what will happen if she looks at those starving desperate faces. As much as it hurts, I make her look at them.

They stand there in their rags, clustered in little groups or alone. Some stare at us with hope, but most cannot raise their heads. They have been disappointed too many times. "It is our year. We both know it. The lottery is just a formality. I don't want our people to suffer because we were too selfish to accept our duty." Carefully I hug her from behind and rest my chin lightly on the bones of her shoulder. "I don't want us to be like Niko and Kino . . .

"Imagine it Ellari. This time next year, these people will be well fed, weeping with joy instead of trembling in fear with barely a shred of hope between them. You will serve as Divine Speaker of Belmore. You will have your choice of lovers. You could have a child. Maybe even a daughter . . ." A tear falls from her chin and onto my forearm as my voice cracks. Part of me is still afraid. "I want that for you. For them. . . . Even if it means giving it up for myself. Do you still want us to leave?"

Ellari tries to speak as more tears drip onto my arms, but her throat will not cooperate. "It's okay." I whisper. "Just, promise me. . ." Now, it is my throat which fails.

Ellari rasps. "If I have a girl, I will name her Irella. A boy, I will name him Ja'kahl. I promise." She turns around in my embrace and kisses each of my hollow cheeks with her thin lips.

I laugh weak and tearful at her promise. "I was just going to ask that you find someone who makes you happy," I murmur and kiss her forehead.

"Oh. Ha . . . yes. I promise . . . I promise I will try. Let's go." I cannot ask more of my sister than that.

Turning, we enter the temple and go our separate ways. We are late, and there are fewer candidates this year than ever before. Already they have all chosen. The council is fretting and Gray Mother is weeping silently. There are no matches. No hope in anyone's eyes as Ellari and I mirror each other across the breadth of the building. The urn is nearly full of tokens as I put my hand in. Cool metal shapes close in around my flesh.

One after another, they slip from my fingers. They evade my grasp. Silently I pray to be chosen. I will not let fear control me anymore. I am ready to serve my people. I will give Ellari back her strength.

A token presses itself into my palm and I draw it out. The elegant petals of an Aliantha blossom are spread across the golden surface. Aliantha, the hardiest and most beautiful of flowering bushes. The berries it produces are made into a sacred alcohol. The blossom is a symbol of wisdom, of honor, and of bounty. It is the best omen a chosen pair can draw.

I am not afraid.