Under the soft light of dawn, as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the tall pines, a group of children gathered around an ancient oak tree. The cool air carried the scent of pine needles and damp earth. The children sat on the soft moss, their eyes wide with curiosity and anticipation.

The old story teller, a man with a face etched with years of wisdom, settled on a nearby rock. His weathered hands, one resting on a wooden staff and the other scratching his white beard as he playfully stroked it. He began his tale in a deep, gravelly voice.

“Back when tigers smoked,” he started, his eyes twinkling, “the world was different. It was a time of great battles when humans and devils fought for control over the earth.”

The children leaned closer, absorbed by the story.

“For thousands of years, the fighting never stopped,” the grandfather continued. “The devils were relentless, but the humans were brave. The ground was stained with blood, and the cries of the fallen echoed to the heavens.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.

“Eventually, both sides grew tired. The King of the Devils proposed a meeting with the King of Humans. They met at the edge of the world, where the sky meets the ocean.”

The children were silent, imagining that distant place.

“The King of Devils offered a deal,” the grandfather whispered. “He and his kin would take the inner world and lock themselves away in the deepest part of the earth, but the King of Humans must migrate all the human tribes and lock the entrance to the inner world using a forbidden ritual that requires the blood of every human tribe. If even one person was missed, the seal will be broken, and the Devils would be released.”

The children shivered as the tale grew darker.

“Every fifty years,” the grandfather said, “the King of Humans forces walks the earth, searching for disobedient children to offer as tribute, keeping the pact unbroken. He would gather the children of every tribe and send them into the middle world, a world of mystery where they are offered a slim chance of survival by the king of the devils. ”

Pausing, the old man's eyes became sharp as he looked around the crowed of children, "the king of the devil would test their inner beings, their values and purity... those deemed unworthy would be sacraficed and those deemed worthy would be spared. To this day, no one was deemed worthy!"

The story ended in silence, the ancient tale lingering in the cool morning air.

…

Zarek’s resolve wavered under the pressure, his concentration drifting away as the elders began to argue among themselves, some calling for his sacrifice, others demanding more proof.

Varek, his voice cutting through the elders, spoke coldly. “Confess, and perhaps mercy will be shown!” he pointed with his wrinkled hand toward Zarek.

Tired of all the questions flooding him, and knowing he is destined to be the scapegoat, Zarek’s emotions boiled over. He felt like screaming for his innocents, yet his throat grew dry, sweat slowly dripping from his forehead.

Resolving his feelings and putting them aside, he once again recalled the words of Yara, and prepared to recite a rhyme. Words in the village were more valuable than gold, a promise said must be upheld; that was the custom, and to formally forward one’s complaint, one must narrate their case.

With shame and desperation, his voice echoed in the hall, and the elders grew quiet.

“To those ancient, and those that are old,

I come forward, my words are bold.

A person promise, is a mountain of gold,

I won’t bend and I won’t fold.

Today I bring forth my shameful claim,

I know it doesn’t make sense, but I’m not to blame.

We all know that my fate’s been sealed,

The truth is hard, but it’s been revealed.

Another bloodline gone, this is all a sham,

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

I’m framed, I swear, it’s all a scam.”

He paused taking a deep break and looking at each elder in the face before continuing,

“From you elders, both wise and revered,

One stands oldest, her wisdom is feared.

There’s Elder Rina, ancient and wise,

With knowledge deep, she’s seen through lies.

But even she, with all her might,

Can’t see the truth hidden in plain sight.

Elder Jorim, strong and bold,

With hammer in hand, his heart grows cold.

A creator of wonders, a builder of fame,

Yet now he questions, castimg shadows of blame.

Elder Alaric, the village’s wall,

Without his strength, the village would fall.

In leather and iron, his stance is straight,

He defends our home with steadfast weight.

Elder Lyra, the archer’s pride,

With sharp eyes and skill, she won’t let it slide.

Her bowstring taut, her aim is true,

Yet doubt and suspicion cloud her view.

Aren, the seer with one missing eye,

Sees beyond the veil, where truths and lies lie.

He stands silent, judgment in his gaze,

A sentinel in these dark, troubled days.

But then there’s you, blind to the light,

A serpent’s tongue, your heart full of spite.

You twist the truth, you spin your lies,

With hate burning deep in your sightless eyes.

You want my blood, you seek my end,

But know this, I will not bend.

The stars above, they know the truth,

Of innocence lost, of betrayed youth.”

Not a word was spoken for a while, the hall was silent, the only sound was the crackling of the eternal fire. The elders exchanged glances, their thoughts hidden behind their stern expressions. Their faces showed a mix of shock, suspicion, and pity.

Aren’s expression was unreadable, his sharp eyes boring deep into Zarek.

Rina’s eyes softened momentarily, but she said nothing.

Jorim’s jaw tightened, his knuckles white around his hammer.

Alaric’s face was a mask of conflict, his grip on his spear tightening.

Varek eyes seethe with anger as he stepped forward, his blind eyes seeming to see through Zarek. “Your insolence knows no boundaries!”

Interrupting him from saying anything further, Aren stepped forward, his voice steady and his eyes glowling :

“You speak the truth, but tell some lies,

Your voice steady with its cries.

A child of despair, sadly your cries are in vain,

For your fate, it seems, has been preordained.

I am no prophet, just a wise man,

Yet I see the threads of this sinister plan.

Evidence we hold, a dagger of blame,

Two testified, someone spoke your name.

The gods above, they watch and wait,

To return you to their embrace, sealed by fate.”

Aren’s eyes dimed and he turned to the other elders, his tone icy and direct. “No need to sugarcoat this…he is an educated child and knows what is bound to happen to him. Let us vote on two matters: his innocence and whether he will be sacrificed. Remember, the stars are above watching, so be fair. Let’s start with his innocence. Who here deems him guilty?”

Only two hands were raised. One was wrinkled and old, belonging to Varek and another was covered in leather, the hand of Alaric.

Terror gripped Zarek’s heart as he watched their hands rise, alarm bells ringing in his head.

“Now for his innocence!” Aren commanded.

No hands were raised, amplifying Zarek’s fear. His eyes widened with terror as he looked at the elders deciding his fate right before him.

Aren’s gaze swept over Zarek, his expression unreadable, yet chilling. He addressed the hall, his voice dripping with an eerie calm, “And now, the final question: to be, or not to be? Who among us casts their vote for the boy’s sacrifice?”

Shock and disbelief filled Zarek’s heart as he watched the elders raise their hands one by one.

Elder Rina, her face a mask of sorrow, was the first to lift her hand.

Elder Jorim, his expression resolute and unyielding, followed suit.

Elder Alaric hesitated, his internal struggle evident, but eventually, he too raised his hand.

Lastly, Elder Lyra, her eyes brimming with conflict and hesitation, raised her hand only after Varek’s cold reminder.

Silence enveloped the hall as Alaric rose from his seat, his presence commanding attention. Aren, his one remaining eye gleaming with cold detachment, sat down, taking his place with a slow, deliberate motion.

“Zarek Tharion,” Alaric’s voice resonated through the chamber, each word dripping with finality, “under the authority of the Elders’ Council, you have been found guilty of the heinous crime of kin-slaying. For this unforgivable sin, the penalty is death…death by being sacrificed!”

“Guards, seize him,” Varek commanded, his voice icy and unyielding.

Four guard rushed in, grabbing the boy’s hands and feet.

“Two of you will escort him back to his pit and prepare him, while the others will spread the word to everyone. This afternoon marks the day of the holy sacrifice…the Giving Back Day!”

Despair engulfed Zarek as he was dragged away. ‘Was this it?’ He screamed in his head, insanity creeping up to engulf him.

His pleas fell on deaf ears, and he was left alone with his misery. The cold, unyielding stones of his prison awaited him, and the knowledge that his life was to be cut short filled him with an overwhelming sense of loss and betrayal.

The stars above seemed indifferent, their distant light offering no solace.

‘My fate was sealed by those who were meant to protect me!’ he thought, gathering what little strength he had left.

He decided to make a stances and speak his probably last words to the elders while being dragged away, his hands trembled, yet his voice steady. He began to recite a curse that came from the depths of his anguished soul:

“Cold are the hearts that judge me now,

Elders of ice with unbroken vow.

Corruption runs deep in the roots you tend,

Your treachery will never mend.

In shadows and whispers, you conspire,

Fanning the flames of a funeral pyre.

Mark my words, I curse you all,

From beyond the grave, I’ll watch you fall.

Even in death, my spirit won’t rest,

I’ll haunt your dreams, be your eternal pest.

For stars above and earth below,

Will bear witness to the seeds you sow.

And in the night, when silence creeps,

My voice will whisper as each of you sleeps.”

The hall fell into a deathly silence, my words hanging heavy in the air. The elders’ faces twisted with a mix of anger, guilt, and fear. I looked each one in the eye as I was being taken away, my resolve unbroken even after they sealed my fate.