Page 1 of Blood Sacrifice

Chapter One

Luna – Four Hundred Years Ago

The moon hung low in the sky, illuminating the landscape and allowing us to bear witness to the events of tonight. A slow, steady drumbeat echoed, footsteps keeping time as they marched to the site prepared for the ritual.

Emperor Atahualpa sat on his throne to oversee the sacrifice that would take place to appease the great gods that were stirring the passions of the volcano. Swirls of smoke and sparks of red fire hid the moon for a moment, heralding a bad omen. The emperor had been in ill health lately, and demanded we held the sacrifice tonight to petition the gods.

The children of the required age stepped forward when the drumbeat stopped, their faces pale and hands trembling. They had been dressed in new, ceremonial robes, their hair adorned with ribbons and crystals, each having undergone the preparation rituals that would allow them to be eligible for selection. Sons and daughters of the high born took their place among other beautiful youths of this tribe.

Objects crafted from gold, silver and spondylus shells were carried by the priestesses, each blessed in the holy waters in preparation for the capacocha ritual, which was normally only carried out on specific nights of the moon cycle. Tonight, we worried that the emperor’s insistence of the ritual early may offend the gods.

The emperor’s guards stood around the periphery, their eyes glowing amber. They were the vicious defenders and guardians of the men who ruled this land, and the priestesses who I stood among were those forced to create the life of luxury and extravagance those same men demanded.

Magic was never supposed to be possessed by greedy men and used for their own personal gain. It was why the elements complained, Misti voicing her annoyance as she spat fire and released her great plumes of smoke. More and more frequently there had been eruptions, her hot, red lava consuming the land surrounding her.

Our mother priestess turned worried eyes to the volcano, whose rumblings were making the ground under our feet shake.

“It is time to choose our sacrifice,” Emperor Atahualpa bellowed, standing and holding his arms out to indicate everyone below him. “It is their honour to die for us.”

There was no honour in their death, it was a lie our leaders told us to justify killing innocent children in a ritual that didn’t work. All of this was about vanity and power. My gaze met the glowing eyes of Salvator as he stood on the periphery, his expression fixed in a mask of indifference.

My sister Aisha grabbed my hand, squeezing my fingers until I winced. We all knew this would not stop Misti the volcano, that someone would lose their life tonight, and it would be for nothing, but the threat of the barely controlled animals keeping watch meant we bowed our heads and said nothing.

The chief priest Balor, who oversaw the ritual, stepped forward, holding his ceremonial tools as he walked along the front of the scared youths. The drums beat lowly, creating tension in the air. The priest held out a large crystal point toward all those chosen for the sacrifice. He stopped for a moment, holding a feather in the air to determine if the gods chose this sacrifice. I didn’t doubt he had already selected who would bethe chosen one, and one of his priests would manipulate the breeze to ensure everyone believed it was the will of the gods.

The feather didn’t move, so he continued on, stopping at two others before he arrived at the one marked for death. The feather moved violently as if an invisible hand shook it. A murmur rippled around the assembled crowd.

“No,” Aisha whispered. “What is he thinking?”

He had overstepped the boundary of his power.

The emperor stepped forward on his podium, his eyes narrowing. “You are mistaken,” he said in a cold, hard voice. “Choose again.”

The priest turned around with a feral smile on his face. “The gods are never wrong.” Balor held his arms in the air, throwing his head back dramatically. “They demand a sacrifice of flesh and blood to atone for the sins of the people.”

The magic users were born to serve the nobility, the guards bred from a vicious line of lycans to ensure order was maintained. Tonight, Balor was daring to challenge our emperor by choosing his only child. His daughter was his pride and joy, and he had been seeking to make a powerful alliance for her in a marriage to another tribe, and increase the power of the emperor’s dynasty.

He would never allow his only child to be taken from him, and Balor knew that. As if sensing a fight brewing, the lycan guards stepped forward, their claws slowly descending, and canines on display.

They had always terrified me with their violent behaviour and loud voices. They patrolled the area surrounding our homes every night, their howls echoing on the wind and their claws destroying the symbols drawn by the priestesses. Anyone caught outside in the wilderness alone in the hours of darkness were subject to their lycan laws.

All of them, except one.

A priestess had been executed last year because she bore a child to one of the lycan guards, the offspring a product of magic and wolf. The child had disappeared, and there had been terrifying noises that night in the direction of Misti. None of us spoke of it the next day, and when I asked about the baby, one of the older priestesses shook her head and held her finger to her lips.

It hadn’t always been this way. When we were younger, my sister and I lived with our parents before our gifts manifested and a priest came to collect us. Lycans lived among us, the black-furred ones taken away from their families in the same way we had been, since they were the dire wolves that became guards. Salvator and his brothers had played with our brother in our village. They had collected him the summer before they took my sister and me.

I knew it was him the first time I had caught one of the black wolves standing close to the priestess temple, amber eyes glowing in the darkness, watching our every move. He didn’t scare me in the same way as the other lycans did, and in my heart I believed it was Salvator. The nights I noticed him, I left sweet treats outside, and they were gone the next morning.

Our relationship was against every rule we lived by, and if discovered, we would be slaughtered like the couple last year. His kisses enflamed me and made the risk worth it, his touch making me feel alive in a world of pain. None of us had chosen this life, Fate had intervened and now we found ourselves here tonight in the middle of a chaotic storm. Stolen moments of pleasure were our only reprieve.

Emperor Atahualpa descended from his platform, his personal guards moving into position behind him, their swords drawn. He drew everyone’s attention as he prowled toward the priest. Balor was older than anyone I knew, no one knowing his true age, merely that he had outlived many emperors andhad travelled far to reach this place. He was ancient and had amassed a lot of power in that time.

My heart fluttered in my chest like a trapped bird trying to escape. Balor was cold and calculating. If he had chosen the emperor’s only child for the sacrifice, then he was ready for the repercussions.

I felt energy ripple over us, goosebumps rising on my flesh in warning.

Tension palpated the air, a breeze moving my hair, and a flash of a vision blinded me for a moment.

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