"Your first husband has died at war."
A piece of heart-dropping news, only to be met with another.
Her Papa continued, "You are now a widowed human girl."
Humans were prey, especially Descendants of the Moon. Direct Descendants' blood seeped liquid silver that healed vampires that ruled nobility and their flesh tempted werewolves that served as the nation's army.
Ophelia Eves didn't know what to say. Her heart dropped to her stomach and her hands trembled in disbelief. Wind bellowed outside, the entrance curtains flapping to reveal other tributes already beginning to line up.
"That'd be impossible," Ophelia squeezed out. She may not know her husband well, but there was one thing she knew he excelled at—fighting.
Another voice spoke up from beside Ophelia's father.
"With his death," Matriarch Eves finalized, "There is no marriage or husband to protect you. That is why you're participating in the Decade Tribute Ceremony today."
Matriarch Eves gazed at her granddaughter. This meek little thing would not be fully prepared for the consequences of her husband's death. Soon, when the people out there saw her silver hair and amethyst eyes, they'd know what her true identity was, even if Ophelia herself didn't.
"Your life's on the line," Matriarch Eves remarked with no remorse. "You are a human girl, widowed, and virginity taken. This is the only way you'll find someone to protect you."
"O-on the same day I'm supposed to mourn my husband, I'll be wedded off again," Ophelia stammered out, unable to form a proper sentence without her irritating tongue.
"Precisely," Matriarch Eves said, her gaze sharpening at the horrid habit. Even though she understood the silliness of this situation, their hands were tied. It was either now or never.
"The Decade Tribute Ceremony happens every 10 years, you won't have another opportunity like this again," Matriarch Eves continued at the sight of Ophelia's reluctant expression.
"I know," Ophelia mumbled.
With lowered eyes and shaky hands, Ophelia tried to form sentences, but all she could do was blink.
"Are you sure?" Matriarch Eves bit out at her blank stare.
The tortuous tradition of the Decade Tribute Ceremony began as a treaty signed by the humans who had lost brutally in a war against the werewolves and vampires.
To remind humans of their lowly place in the food chain, every 10 years, the noblest and blue-blooded human families that heavily contributed to the war ten generations ago must provide a female tribute. This was the only way the three races could exist in harmony—humans had to be sacrificed.
"We're not attempting to give you away again, but this is the only way to protect you," Ophelia's father began.
"Aaron," Matriarch Eves warned, rushing to shut her son's mouth.
Ophelia shakingly turned to her grim-faced Papa. Guilt flickered on his pale features. His limp leg and cane rendered him useless in Matriarch Eves' eyes.
Her father had once taken a horrid beating in Ophelia's place, sheltering her from Matriarch Eves' blows, but the old woman was too harsh. Matriarch Eves had shattered her own son's legs for intervening—crippling him for life.
"Everyone dies at a certain point," Aaron reminded her in a defeated voice. " Even the werewolves that served as warriors of the nation and vampires that ruled nobility with an iron fist can die. Even if Killorn was a Duke's son, he was just a human man, his death was inevitable."
"I-is that all?" Ophelia dully murmured. She was too caught up in the despair to register the maids harshly combing her hair. Silver strands spun to the floor, gathering like tainted snow.
"All the despicable and powerful werewolves and vampires are present," Matriarch Eves stated, just as there was a commotion in the background. She glanced out of the tent, wondering what it could be.
Ophelia painfully glanced at her grandmother, her scalp burning from the inconsiderate maid, but she was used to this treatment. Matriarch Eves took over as Head of the House a decade ago. At that time, Ophelia was only 10 years old when word of a horrific incident involving her reached the sickly Patriarch who had a heart attack. Since then, Matriarch Eves had always abhorred the young woman.
"I-is he really dead?" Ophelia couldn't concentrate on the ceremony. She was still trying to understand her husband's sudden death.
At the slightest of Ophelia's stammer, Matriarch Eves' frigid gaze turned her private study into a winter wonderland. A chill rattled Ophelia's spin.
"Cease your chatter immediately!" Matriarch Eves snapped. Her patience thinned whenever Ophelia's bad habit resurfaced.
Ophelia flinched at her grandmother's thunderous glare. Instantly, she clamped her mouth shut. She could never disobey her grandmother, who had beaten her enough to cause more psychological wounds than physical ones.
"Ophelia," Matriarch Eves coldly remarked in the regard as she would a servant. "When you were 18, we married you to him to protect you, but it's been two years since he deflowered you, disappeared in the morning afterward to fight an unspecified battle, and left you practically widowed since then."
Ophelia froze.
"Since then," Matriarch Eves continued. "There has not been a single letter about him or the battle, even if we wrote to his family. He is as good as dead—no human would ever last in a battle when werewolves are warriors of the land and vampires rule the nobility with vengeance to keep us humans contained."
So this was it.
"House Eves is expected to present a tribute," Matriarch Eves reminded her. "It would've been Roselind, but you traumatized your older sister when you dragged her out to the festival two years ago. Your inadequacy means you'll take her place today—even if it means death."
Regret stabbed Ophelia like an arrow through a bird.
Ophelia remembered the day she and Roselind, her older sister, were attacked by vampires. The party didn't start until Roselind showed up—she was just that beautiful. On that fateful day, Roselind insisted on staying for the Setting Sun's festival. Even now, Roselind's haunted screams filled Ophelia's nightmares.
Ophelia remembered Roselind's helpless gaze as she writhed against the vampire's cruel bite.
What had the vampires said again? Ophelia suddenly remembered his crude words—"Not that one."
"But she's the only one that smells so darn sweet," another groaned with bloody red eyes that pierced through Ophelia's body.
"You know the order, anyone but her," his companion replied after grabbing Roselind by her hair, as Ophelia was frozen with shock. "Now, straighten up and tell the fine lady to have a good day."
"Even though we assaulted her sister?"
"Yes."
"Have a merry day, young lady."
Ophelia recalled those words as if they had happened a moment ago. A group of bloodthirsty and rogue vampires had surrounded her, but not a single one dared to touch her.
'Anyone, but her,' Ophelia recalled. What did they mean by that?
Ophelia could tell they were rogue vampires by their skeletal appearance where skin clung to their bones and their bodies mimicked mummies due to how dry they were from the lack of human blood.
The vampires were on the verge of death and still didn't drink her blood.
Ophelia didn't know why, but soon, she would—for all the wrong reasons.
- - - - -
Ophelia was set up from the very beginning.
Ophelia had barely set foot in the grass clearing where enormous white tents were erected with noble human houses' emblems which could be seen from afar, the color resembling surrender flags. The humans were once again reminded of their defeat in the ancient war, as one by one, families watched their daughters line up like pigs for slaughter.
"Near silver hair and amethyst eyes, they're traits of the Moon Goddess's descendants, could it be…?" An Alpha whispered to his Beta, a second-in-command.
One by one, Alphas—leaders of the Werewolf clan— and Vampires glanced at the women with disinterest. Though, all of them peppered in Ophelia's direction, even if it was for a single moment.
Betas and heads alike instantly turned towards her, eyes sharp with curiosity.
"Perhaps," Betas were Second-in-Command and all of them were rapidly firing statements at their Alphas.
Ophelia couldn't hear their conversation. What were they looking at? The second they saw her, they turned to their advisor, who could only shake their head in disapproval. Everyone seemed interested in her. Why?
"Ophelia," Matriarch Eves snapped, suddenly approaching her granddaughter with a man in tow.
Ophelia didn't want to look, but she had no choice. She froze at the sight of the man old enough to be her father. Her heart stopped. A vampire. His pigeon-blood eyes reflected her frightened gaze.
"Bow to Neil Nileton, your soon-to-be new husband."
"Hello, darling," Neil murmured in a slick voice that made her skirt back a step.
Ophelia's head spun. The last thing she remembered of her husband was a painful embrace in bed, their heated bodies, and the silver flames of his rough gaze. She remembered his large hand grasping her waist, his soft frown, and the warmth of his touch.
"Well?" Neil pressed on.
Ophelia's skin crawled with goosebumps at his voice. His leery gaze flickered across her white-cladded shoulders. He stepped forward with confidence, his pigeon-blood eyes penetrating her, lifeless and leery.
Vampire.
"H-hello," Ophelia forced herself to say, hoping that her stammer would deter him. It did.
Neil paused.
Ophelia shakingly glanced away at Matriarch Eves' snarl. Neil was a close family friend of her grandmother's. House Nileton protected House Eves and was the reason they were able to prosper; since, human families needed a supernatural sponsor, preferably noble vampires, that'd ensure their businesses wouldn't be attacked or sacked by the empire. House Eves depended on Neil, who was a second son at forty years old.
"What is with all that noise?" Matriarch Eves murmured when she saw the same chaotic crowd gathering at the foot of the forest.
"Ignore it, Ophelia," Neil said when he saw her finally raise her head. He stopped. Truly, she was just as the rumors said, purple eyes bearing a prophecy.
Neil narrowed his eyes at her rigid stare. Had he not been old enough to be her father, he was quite charming with his dense mustache and stealth-build, but slight beer belly.
"Ophelia. Bow." Matriarch Eves' words were absolute.
Ophelia greeted him with a curtsy—showing every man and woman here, she had been chosen. His ruby eyes penetrated her within seconds, still lifeless and leery. Her heart skipped, he was a creature of the night.
"Marvelous," Neil murmured, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles, his parched lips lingering too long.
Ophelia snatched her hand back as if his saliva was poisonous. He snarled, his sharp predatorial fangs flashing out of his mouth. She froze in fear, even though her leg ached to connect with the family jewel between his thighs.
"He's selected you during the ceremony." Matriarch Eves stated with a pleased smile for everyone to see.
Liar. Ophelia knew her grandmother despised werewolves and vampires alike, which didn't make sense for Matriarch Eves to send Ophelia to the ceremony. The official selection process had barely begun, but this was Matriarch Eves' plan for the family to fulfill the requirement, and introduce Ophelia to their choosing.
Smart.
"I hereby declare you my tribute," Neil arrogantly announced.
Murmurs of complaints filled the air, earning a snide glare from Neil who grabbed her without warning. They were yanked into a canopy tent, where Patriarch Nileton was already waiting for them. What was going to happen now?
Ophelia saw a bribed priest with a holy book inside the tent. They were actually going to get married on the exact day her husband had died. What the hell was wrong with these people?!
Ophelia's emotions threatened to spill out but she bit her lip & blinked back the first drops of tears. She should be mourning her husband not saying, 'I do', to a new one.
Once again, a loud commotion was heard from the distance. Through the fluttering tent entrance, she saw the powerful Alphas falter and blanch at their Beta's statements whereas Vampires sharply turned to their advisors in disbelief.
"When the ceremony ends," Matriarch Eves calmly said, oblivious to the situation. "Our houses will be joined as one. As of this moment, Ophelia of House Eves' marriage to Killorn Mavez is annulled."