Dark clouds loomed high above the woods. A rainy sort of musk had made itself known. There was a storm coming... The village was frantic. These were the worst kind of nights... These were the nights where they were most vulnerable to the feathered beast. By then the livestock was nearly gone from their sacrifices. Only a few sheep could be heard bleating out in their panic. The sun was nearly down... Beyond that, it was a new moon. Complete darkness would cover over the forest that night. The strongest men of the village bustled about as if preparing for war. Three of them, however, stood huddled together, whispering in hushed voices. They had a plan. A plan that they didn't wish to come to. But it was one they had thought necessary... These were powerful men. The Blacksmith, the lord of the land, and the town priest... They all looked between each other, before then glancing towards a small withered hut nearby.
"And you're sure he's the one?" The lord asked. The blacksmith nodded solemnly.
"Aye. He's not much use, the welp... Poor lad." He stated. The priest cleared his throat and shook his head.
"But even so... The boy is a true child of the goddess... He's such a kind boy... Every sabbath I see him... A warm face will be missed this coming day of rest..." He added, his tone severe and saddened. The blacksmith sighed.
"Aye, he will be... But it's the lad or his sister..." He adds. The Lord shaked his head.
"Certainly not... She may be weak, but she's a fine woman, fine for marrying... Goddess knows we need more young women for marrying." He declared. The other two nodded in absolute agreement.
"I'd drink to that y'know... If all our mead hadn't gone sour..." He responded. The two other men chuckled. But soon a silence fell over them as the grim truth again settled. The Priest looked between the other two.
"Then it's time I suppose." He stated. The others yet again nodded in agreement.
"I'll gather my men then. Make sure you pray for the welp. Pray that he has a quick death." The lord responded before snapping his fingers in the air and pointing towards the house. A few men lifted their gaze from their work and began to gather around the three. The group hearded towards the small hut. The priest held his head low, whispering to his goddess under his breath, doing just as the Lord had suggested. The blacksmith stepped in front as they approached the wooden door.
"Boy's father and I are friends... I don't reckon we'll be after this night... But for now, I have his trust." He reassured the group quietly. He then reached out, pounding his fist on the door. The men huddled around the door, the Lord's followers with their hand on their blades. The door, after a brief pause, slowly creaked open. Out peeked the face of an old weathered man. As weathered as the hut itself it seemed. He frowned as he looked over the group.
"What is this about?" He asked with a furrowed brow. The blacksmith eyed him sincerely, almost with guilt.
"Alfred... I think you know..."
"No... No, you aren't taking her!" He cried with a shake of his head. He began to close the door. The Lord stepped forward, inserting his foot into the doorway.
"Sir it's not your daughter we want... We need him." he insisted. The man gulped and shook his head.
"You can't have him either! You can't!" He stubbornly declared.
"I'm afraid we don't have a choice in the matter! Now please cooperate!"
"I will not! Leave... Leave this place! Find someone else!" The withered man spit. A collective sound of unsheathing blades filled the small area, and the Lord's men came closer. The man's cloudy eyes widened, his jaw agape. He stepped back.
"He's a good boy... Please... Don't take my sweet boy!" He bellowed. The men bursted in despite the protest. In the far end of the single room hut stood two young siblings, both with the same appearance, twins... The only difference was one was male and the other female. The boy's eyes widened as he looked towards his father and then the men at the door. He was listening... He knew. He didn't want to believe it, but he knew. He reached towards his sister, grasping her hand as the two fearfully backed away.
"Father, What's happening? Why do they want me?!"
The greyed man turned to his son, sorrow filling his expression, and tears in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly the tip of a blade came within inches of his face. He turned towards it, backing up in cowardice. He was speechless. The girl clung to her brother, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks as the armed men continued to advance into the room. Behind them at the door stood the lord, watching sadly, his eyes focussed on the twins. Dust from the dirt floor flurried, kicked up by the mens shuffling feet. The girl held her brother closer, glaring, and staring the lord down. However, one of the lord's men then quickly obstructed her view of him. She turned to her father instead.
"Father! Father do something!" She wailed. One of the men charged towards the two, his sword drawn. He roughly grabed onto the small boy's arm, tugging him away from the girl. The boy tugs back however, his eyes wide with panic.
"N-no! Let me go!" He shrieked, his voice cracking in fear. The man only tightened his grip, and tugs him away from the clutches of his sister. The two's father looked over the situation, speechless and motionless, all the while mouthing something to himself silently. The girl bursted into frantic sobbing as her brother was ripped from her. The boy was then lifted and thrown over the gruff man's shoulder. He thrashed, screaming out an array of insults as tears fell from his face. He knew... He knew that he was the sacrifice... How couldn't he know? He was weaker than the others. Smaller and less capable. He was prone to fainting spells, and he had little strength. His sister was the same way. But she even more dainty than himself. But there were many more men in the village than women... This was his fate... He pounded his fists against the man's back, but to no avail as he was now being carried off towards the exit. The girl ram after, nearly tripping as she did.
"No! Take me! Take me!" she belted. Another one of the men however took hold of her arms, holding her back.
"Ferrin! Please!" She whined after her brother. He glanced up upon hearing his name as he was carried away from her. His eyes burned as tears started to fall from him like waterfalls.
"I'm sorry Lavender! I'm so sorry!" He called back with a broken sob. She fell to her knees calling after him just as he disappeared out the door.
The night had passed, and the boy had found himself with shackles around his wrists. His eyes burned, and his throat was dry and barren. He could only sob silently then, raspy and sore. He was being dragged along... Almost like a freshly trapped dear. His arms were roughly pulled above his head as a different man now tugged him along a dirt path. The sky was darkening with each minute. The trail grew ever narrower as Ferrin was dragged deeper into the woods. He couldn't even kick his feet anymore... Every ligament and muscle ached, burning in agony. His shoulders were the worse however, almost feeling as if they were being pulled from their sockets. Thunder boomed overhead. The man stopped and looks to the sky as just then a flash of lightning illuminates the land. Ferrin too glanced towards the sky. A few droplets of rain started to fall, slowly building heavier as they did. The man grunted, pulling the boy along faster now. It was clear to Ferrin that time was already begging to run thin.
Not long after the rain started, they arrive in a small dirt clearing. The priest stood, simply allowing the clouds to rain down upon him. He held his hands together, his head bowed in prayer. The other man says no greeting, but instead dragged Ferrin towards a sort of totem-like log. It seemed to be an old tree that was carved into the shape of a feather, the goddess's symbol just at the top. And the base of it was stained with what could only be assumed as goat's blood. Maybe that too of horse or bull. The man pulled Ferrin's back against its damp wood, beginning to wrap the chains around it. Ferrin looked up at the hefty man, whimpering softly, the chains now being wrapped tightly around the boy's waist. He trembled and very lightly struggled to break free again, but all his strength was gone. The man repeated wrapping till the chains had become short, now pulling a stake from the ground. He placed each end of the link beneath its point and then began to push the stake back into the now dampened dirt. The rain was only falling heavier by each minute. The boy wept softly. He wasn't ready to die... He didn't want to die. He gazed up at the gruff man again.
"Please! Don't do this!" He begged, but his voice was barely above a whisper; no doubt drowned out by the pitter-patter of the now marble sized water droplets. The man simply ignored his cries, walking away towards the priest instead.
"You must hurry my father... The beast will be upon us soon..." He said. The priest opened his eyes and looked to the man. He nodded.
"I am aware... This is not something I wish to do... I apologize for my prolonging of it." He said. His dreary eyes then landed on Ferrin, and his expression softened. The priest seemed to glide towards him, the bottom of his robes dirtied with mud. Even now in the rain and mud he seemed just as graceful as he did while preaching at the shrine.
Ferrin watched him, unable to stop his tears. This was really it... He was going to die... But Ferrin never imagined the last face he saw to be that of a friend leaving him for dead. Ferrin knew the priest. He cared for him even. They had shared much prayer, food, drink, and song together... All of course within the holy walls of the shrine. But still... The boy knew this man that now condemned him. The priest crouched beside him, gazing into Ferrin's seafoam green eyes. He stares back at the priest with a pleading expression.
"I trusted you! Please! I don't want to die!"
"It is not up to me or you... I'm sorry Ferrin. I did not choose this fate for you."
"But you condone it! Is there no more livestock?"
"Not enough. This was not my decision...It was voted for. But the Goddess will keep you now. What is meant to be will be. It's in her hands." He muttered in response. The priest then took the beaded twine from his neck, placing it around the boys instead. The necklace brandished the Goddesses symbol. In which was represented by the shape of small tetroganal crystal. It was an indigo color, instead of a deep purple as it was supposed to be. In fact, it was not a crystal at all, but cheap painted and glossed glass. The goddess's symbol was an amethyst, but such things were much to expensive for anyone within the poor and dying village of Thornwood. The priest was no exception, and certainly Ferrin wasn't either.
The boy softly sobbed as the necklace was hung around his neck. He knew there was nothing he could do. He glanced down, the rain drenching through his chamese. The cotton fabric clung to his body. His shaggy blonde hair dripped, covering over his eyes. The priest reached out, pushing his bangs from his face. He then leaned forward, placing his lips against Ferrin's forehead. He then pulled away, leaning towards the boy's ear instead.
"May the goddess bless you. May your soul find her embrace once more. May she kiss your lips to protect your soul. May she have a place for you in her garden. May you sleep at peace. And now you will be at peace." He chanted. This prayer... It was what was whispered in a corpse's ear before burial... At that moment Ferrin realized. Lavender, nor his father, would even have a body to bury. They would have nothing left but dull memories. Would they forget that too? Ferrin could barely take the thought. The priest then reached into his rain-soaked sleeve, pulling out a small bronze-colored blade. Ferrin shook his head, again weakly kicking his feet. The chains rattled slightly in his struggle, but wouldn't budge. He buried his bare heels into the mud, trying with all his might to pull away. He cried, the priest quietly shushing him as he brought the blade to Ferrin's belly, just below the chains.
"It won't be deep enough to kill you... The beast... The beast needs to smell your blood..." He said softly, no longer looking Ferrin in the eyes. More so avoiding it. The shame in his voice was apparent. Ferrin shuddered at the thought. He would almost prefer if the knife was what killed him. The beast was known to play with its food after all... The boy however knew there was no use in fighting it anymore... He gulped, shutting his eyes tight and anticipating the pain. The Priest pushed the blade down, piercing through fabric, and then skin. Ferrin yelped, lurching from the sudden pain. The priest then began to drag the knife across, the blade ripping through the boy's flesh. Ferrin cried out from the intense feeling. He opened his mouth to scream, but little sound escaped. The feeling of the rain was cold. But his blood... He could feel his own blood, hot against his shivering skin. He could not see the red liquid beneath what bound him, but he knew it was in surplus. The boy felt it drip down his abdomen, and pool at his legs. Again the tears began to fall from his eyes in streams. He shook and shivered, his head beginning to spin slightly. The priest pulled away, standing now. He turned, pacing away with haste. No final goodbye, no looking back.
He and the other man then approached a single steed. Ferrin watched as they mounted, and quickly... As if they were never there at all, galloped off back down the trail. The boy sobs silently, listening. The sounds of the stallion's hooves against the muddy trail soon disappeared too. Ferrin was completely alone. Alone to cry, alone to ache and bleed, and alone to die. He was going to die... Ferrin knew this was his end. His early fate... Just half a year short of manhood, he would die. And at any moment, the winged beast would arrive.