Page 1 of Vows of Sacrifice

1

ASHANA

According to the many history books I’d read, Muvaria and Osacan had always been rival kingdoms, but never, ever had these two important nations gone to war. At least, not until now.

Why? Because even if their kings didn’t like each other, they had far too much respect for the precious lives of their people to send them away from their families to die in eternal, sterile battles. So, what happened on the other side of the border to bring the hand of the Osacan king, the infamous Black Demon, to personally behead my father? The answer was simple: Elendur Silh, the Prince of Osacan, took his place on the throne of his progenitor, Yblis. Clearly, invading Muvaria had been Elendur’s first political decision.

Our servants rushed to remove the body of King Mersif Carlion of Muvaria before I, his daughter, was dragged like a common criminal to the feet of the Black Demon, Dovah the Bloodthirsty. Dovah was the first knight and hand of justice of the new sovereign of Osacan. As I knelt, two knights forced me to lower my head, one hand pressing firmly on the top of my skull, until I was bowed before him as low as possible. As a result, I didn’t immediately see who I was dealing with. My field of vision was limited to his charcoal-coloured sollerets, the metal of which was smeared with a viscous substance. It became clear that it was blood as some of it stained the tiles beneath his feet. My father’s? I thought suddenly and painfully. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks.

I knew Dovah by reputation. According to rumours, he was known as the Black Demon because of his armour, his body tattooed with strange symbols, and his gigantic ebony stallion. Not to mention the fact that he was also a ruthless killer. He appeared overnight at the court of the late King of Osacan, and no one knew his origins or who he really was until he became the king’s hand.

There wasn’t a single person in the Highlands who wasn’t aware of Dovah’s talent as an assassin and his taste for blood. And this man had just decapitated my father. My heart sank, engulfed by suffering, while my mind remained empty. I became a kind of receptacle that only vaguely understood what was going on around it.

“Who is it?” asked Dovah.

His deep voice was distorted by the helmet he wore.

“King Mersif’s daughter, Your Lordship,” promptly replied one of his knights.

A brief silence passed, yet it seemed to last an eternity.

“Is she a witch or a magician?” he asked again.

“No,” replied the two men who were still keeping me close to the ground.

“Incredibly skillful, far more agile than me in combat?” persisted Dovah.

This time, the knights hesitated to answer. Something in their master’s attitude or voice seemed to worry them.

“N-no,” they stuttered in uneasy unison.

“So, if this woman represents no danger, why hold her like this?”

Everyone in the throne room held their breath. The atmosphere suddenly became stifling. The knights immediately let go of me, without helping me to my feet. After a few moments, trembling with all my limbs and my heart in my throat, I stood up to face my father’s assassin.

I saw nothing. I saw nothing but an imposing suit of armour as black as darkness and an enormous sword worthy of a giant. He held it like others lift a stick from the woods.

On his breastplate was engraved the head of a ferocious dragon, mouth open, eyes set with rubies, giving it a demonic air. His armbands and spaulders resembled sharp claws. Even his visor was monstrously frightening, complete with fangs. This was no knight, but a creature straight from the Underworld.

I stood there before him, frightened but curiously ready to face death. Death . . . Its scent was everywhere, in every corner of our stormed castle.

“Princess,” he greeted me.

The tone of his voice! This despicable man was smiling behind his visor! There was nothing funny about this situation, and yet he was enjoying himself? I clenched my fists and forced myself to swallow back the tears of terror that threatened to flood my cheeks.

“What’s your name?”

“Ashana Carlion of Muvaria,” I answered through gritted teeth.

Dovah beckoned a knight to bring him something.

“Well, Princess of Muvaria, I’m not happy about this,” announced Dovah, “but you and I have no choice but to bow to Elendur’s will. I’m bound by my oath, and you . . .”

He turned his head in my direction as if his helmet was no more of a hindrance than that.

“I imagine you want to spare your people and what’s left of your family.”

At the time, I understood nothing. What was he trying to tell me? Spare my sisters? The people of Muvaria? How?

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