The camp was buzzing despite the setting sun and the rising drizzle of rain. The men were carrying braziers and setting them down in a wide circle while the woman draped white cloth from the branches. Each and every one of them was smiling and singing songs as they worked, excited for the upcoming ritual.

All Risa could do was watch from her stump, her hands bound behind it. She realised that she was the center for the braziers and the converging point for the cloth. Everything seemed to revolve around her. She knew what was to come but watching everything be prepared before her very eyes worsened her despair. Never before had she been in such an inescapable situation. She was tired of planning to escape. Every option she conceived was squashed by an obstacle be it cultist, rope, or abomination.

The monster scared her most of all. Gore, she heard her captors call it. After screeching in her face, it crept into the shadows. However, it regularly made itself apparent in her vision, forcing her to take a glimpse of its horror. She avoided directly gazing at it but the damage had already been done. She wondered if it wanted her to see it, to know that it was watching her and that she was truly trapped. She preferred this thought over it using her for its own twisted enjoyment for nothing is more terrifying than a monster with personality.

She tried her best to ignore Gore's presence. Listening to the singing helped greatly. She felt as if she had heard these songs before. Some old tavern cheers or perhaps forgotten memories of her childhood? Regardless, hearing the words and melody felt nostalgic. It puzzled her how the chanting of blood-crazed cultists could bring about such feelings from within. She even caught herself finishing the verses before the rest did. It sickened her and yet also intrigued her.

She wanted to know more but that man was suspiciously absent. Why isn't he here? Why would their head priest be missing through all this? She thought. She recalled his smile and excitement after declaring the ritual. Remembering such an honest display sends shivers up her spine. What felt eerier was how he spoke of her father like they were close. What did he mean by completing what her father began? She desperately wanted to ask but Rowan had skipped off to alert the camp of the preparations. It did not take long for everyone to get to work.

Whenever someone got close she spoke out to them, trying to gain their attention. They would either ignore her or simply congratulate her. Eventually, she grew irritated and loudly shouted. "Hey, shit-eaters! Can one of you just stop for a moment?!"

Everyone stopped and stared at her. A burly man approached her and then kicked her in the stomach before slapping her face. The onlookers returned to their duties satisfied with the display of punishment. She spat out some blood and looked at the man. "Big man aren't ya? Yet so soft on the hands." She chuckled. He punched her across the face. Her vision went fuzzy and she could feel her nose gushing. The taste of blood returned as her face ached.

He took out a rag and wrapped it across her mouth. Its smell kicked her senses awake as its stench was his next blow. She cursed the man as he left her, not letting the muffle stop her rant. She sighed when he was out of sight.

A thin woman trotted over to her. She took out her own rag and wiped away the blood dripping from Risa's nose. She was not gentle and earned herself some wincing and cursing. She spoke in a soft tone. "This will not do. You must be presentable for this evening. Forgive him, he meant no offence. He knows you are a Chosen."

Risa grunted in confusion and cocked an eyebrow. The woman smiled and cupped Risa's face, "Do not be concerned. Your suffering will come to an end." She trotted back to her camp.

Risa rested her head against the stump and closed her eyes. She took several breaths to calm down but she only grew more agitated. She soon burst into a fit, flailing her body like a child in restraints and letting out a muffled scream.

He spoke from behind the stump, " Now, no need to be frantic." His voice was cheekily enticing. She turned her head to see Rowan grinning at her. "This is a joyous occasion! You should be thrilled."

She scoffed and looked away, not wanting to entertain his lunacy. She could hear him chuckle behind her. He stepped around the trunk and squatted down in front of her. "It's strange isn't it, how fate works? We fail in our task and yet are rewarded for the work of another." He said staring straight into her eyes. He continued. "Veritas truly is beautiful in its mystery. I can only imagine what your father must have been shown." Risa looked up and down at Rowan and noticed a bulge growing by his waist. He cupped her face and aimed her head toward the working people. "Your father made all this possible, you know. He found the path that allowed me to move forward. I only wish he could see all this."

She hummed, grabbing his attention and used her eyes to request the rag be removed. It's only now he noticed her fresh blood staining it. "Oh, I apologise. Some of my flock are more serious than others. Though this is a waste." He said as he gently removed the rag. He inspected the blood stain before sucking it. "Yes. Very potent. No doubt brought on by the battle." He said.

"Just what, exactly?" She asked.

He smiled and replied. "Death. Killing fuels the blood and makes it stronger."

She looked at him completely confused. It was insane, she knew this, reasoning backed by lunacy and superstition. "You're insane." She said horrified.

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His smile shrunk. "If killing makes me insane, what does it make you? You know I speak some truth."

She knew she had been caught. Indeed, she could not deny that there may be some truth to his words, not even to herself. Whenever she fought and killed a man, a part of her wanted to fight more. The rush of battle would continue to kick long after its end. She would not admit it to anyone, but she liked to fight. It was her addiction. She looked away unable to answer.

He caressed her cheek as he spoke, "I know how frightening oneself can be. Veritas allows us to cleanse ourselves of our lies."

She jerked her head away. "I'm not interested in your sermons."

"And your father?" He asked, tilting his head. "You want to know more, correct?"

She stared at him and curiously asked. "How did you know him?"

"He was my master. We met when I uncovered his journal buried under his bones. In those pages is where he taught me everything." He said proudly.

She sighed irritated. "So you didn't actually know him."

"Not true!" He replied quickly and defensively. "I knew him just as well as he did himself. He documented everything about his life and his devotion to Blood Magic."

"My father was an alchemist who sold healing ointments!" She spat back.

"And he taught you all about the human body didn't he?" He waited for her response which never came. She was caught off guard by his accuracy. "Everything he taught you was to prepare you."

She fearfully asked. "For what?"

He leaned in close and said. "Before he died, your father began a ritual that would have made you powerful. Though it required a sacrifice, a great one." He stood up and turned to face the camp, admiring their handiwork, "Afterwards, he planned to bind you to his will. If you had lived of course."

She stared at him in shock and horror. No words came to her for none existed to truly show her feelings. He turned around and noticed her expression and almost like a parent comforting their child, he said. "Oh don't worry. I shall not bind you to anyone. The power shall be yours alone."

Her confusion grew. “You’re all crazy. I don’t know why I thought I could get answers from you. It’s all lies!”

“From me or to yourself?” He squinted a questioning eye at her. “Has all this not been evocative? Does seeing these faithful people and hearing their songs bring out something inside?”

She could not answer for she was too stunned by his perception. How could he know about her conflicting feelings? No doubt a trick used to convert the clueless, she thought. After all who wasn’t born and raised amidst song and working folk? But what she felt earlier was no trick. It stirred her heart. She looked up at him as he spoke. “You know you’ve felt this before. You just don’t remember it. Wasn’t it odd how that adventurer left you just after your father died?”

“How do you…?” Her voice started breaking from the realisation. He simply smiled at her shock and left her. It was not that he knew about their relationship, but rather her suspicion of Raynor’s excuse to leave her. He never told her the full story but she guessed that it had something to do with her father’s death. He was always avoiding the subject.

She thought about it for such time that she did not notice the sun had set. The braziers around her were lit but only in a crescent. The cultists gathered around just outside the ring and watched her with wide smiles. Two more cultists dressed in white robes untied her from the stump, only to splay her out on top of it. They started to undress her to which she thrashed back. Rowan’s voice boomed from behind her. “Stop! That is not necessary.” The cultists bowed apologetically before leaving to join the ring.

Rowan walks around the stump in his robes. He takes in a breath and says. “Tonight is a special night. Tonight we are given an opportunity to create something truly magnificent, more so than Gore!” Risa can hear the cultists mumble and shuffle nervously among themselves at the mention of the monster’s name. She felt relieved that there was at least some manner of sanity among them. They all went silent when Rowan continued, “Tonight is when we finish one man’s dream. We should be immensely grateful to him.” The crowd cheered in celebration.

He then stepped around Risa drawing a ceremonial dagger from his sleeve. Her eyes went wide at the sight of the rusted blade. She screamed and wrangled in her restraints. She was able to break one arm free from the rope which caused Rowan to wave in some help. Four robed cultists rushed in to hold her down by each limb. With her strength gone she started to scream louder. He tried to continue the ritual and even started saying the words but her screaming soon irritated him. He waved in another cultist who stuffed her mouth with a cloth taking her voice away. He then sighed in relief and cleared his throat before starting the words again.

She could not understand what he was saying. They sounded guttural and heavy like someone choking on their blood. She watched him raise the dagger and saw in his eyes a swirling red mist that soon overwhelmed his irises. Her own vision then started to turn red. A pain started growing in her chest that soon swelled into every bone of her body. She tried to scream but nothing came out. It was not the cloth this time but her very breath. Images of her father flashed through her mind. He was speaking the same words that she was hearing now. She snapped back to the present and saw Rowan grinning sinisterly with the dagger still raised. He was shaking with excitement as he spoke. “Veritas! Grant her your gift!” He poised to bring the dagger down into her heart.

“Excuse me? Can I have a quick word?” A familiar voice echoed across the ceremony silencing everything else. All turned to see Carso standing nonchalantly outside the ring smiling. Risa tilted her head up to look at him. He spoke after seeing her face. “You’re not dead? Oh, that’s good, just in time right?” He chuckled.

Rowan darted his head around. “You? Who are you?”

“I’m the captain of the fleet you attacked.” He answered. The camp growled and snarled at him. Then they all started to panic and rushed to grab a weapon. He raised his hands in response. “There’s no need! Calm down, I’m not here to retaliate.”

They slowly started to calm down but were still anxious. Some continued to look around afraid. Rowan eyed him intently. “If you’re not here to kill us then we might as well kill you and finish this.” He said causing the cultists to approach Carso.

He stood his ground but quickly spoke. “But then you’re gonna miss out on the one thing you attacked us for!” All stopped and turned towards Rowan but he did not reply. Carso spoke again before he could. “I’ll make you a trade. Her for the Queen.” As soon as he finished did the queen step out from the shadows and into the light of the braziers. She lifted her hood and showed everyone that it was not a mistake this time.