The guards knelt before the Devourer, their heads bowed as they presented him with a long, gleaming sword. The weapon caught the firelight, its blade sharp enough to split flesh with a single strike.
The villagers erupted into chants, their voices rising in unison, a dark melody of devotion and bloodlust.
Nana's heart pounded as she and Callan were dragged forward, forced onto a stone platform—a sacrificial stool stained with the memory of past victims.
She struggled, but the guards held her still, pushing her down onto her knees. Callan fought harder, his body thrashing against their grip, but he was no match for them.
The Devourer stood, his movements slow, deliberate. He lifted the sword high above his head, the fire reflecting off its deadly edge.
The chants grew louder.
This was it.
Nana clenched her teeth, her body trembling as she stared at the blade.
It was time to die.
The blade came down in a swift, merciless arc.
Nana barely had time to scream before blood sprayed across the stone.
Callan's body jerked, his eyes wide with shock—then empty. His head hit the ground first, rolling slightly before coming to a stop. His body slumped lifelessly onto the cold platform.
The chanting of the villagers grew louder, ecstatic, as if they were celebrating a great victory.
Nana couldn't breathe. The world around her blurred. Callan was gone. Just like that.
The Devourer lowered the sword, blood dripping from its edge. His gaze shifted to her.
She was next.
Nana's mind spun as she stared at Callan's lifeless body.
Her family. Her home. The laughter of her siblings. The warmth of her mother's embrace. Her father's strong voice telling her everything would always be okay.
But nothing was okay. They were all gone.
Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She squeezed her fists so tightly her nails dug into her palms. If this was her end, she would meet it without fear.
The Devourer raised his sword again, the firelight gleaming against the bloodied steel. The villagers held their breath, waiting for the final strike.
But then—he hesitated.
His grip on the hilt faltered. A strange shiver ran through his body, his expression shifting almost imperceptibly.
His piercing eyes locked onto her, and something unknown flickered in them.
Nana braced herself for the killing blow, but it didn't come.
The sword stayed in the air, unmoving.
Whispers rippled through the crowd. The villagers exchanged confused glances. The guards stiffened, waiting for orders.
But the Devourer simply stood there, staring at her, his body tense as if something unseen held him back.
Something was wrong.
The sword slipped from his grasp, clattering onto the stone floor.
The sharp sound cut through the silence, shocking everyone. The villagers' chants faltered, confusion spreading through the crowd. The guards exchanged uncertain glances, their hands tightening on their weapons.
One of the Devourer's closest guards hesitated before stepping forward. His voice was cautious but firm.
"My lord… are you alright?"
The Devourer didn't answer immediately. His gaze remained locked on Nana, his jaw tight, his breathing slightly uneven—like something had shaken him.
The villagers whispered among themselves, uneasy murmurs spreading like wildfire.
The ritual had never been interrupted before.
The village fell into an eerie silence. No one dared to speak. No one dared to move.
The Devourer—Kier—kept his gaze locked on Nana, his face expressionless . But there was something in his eyes—confusion, hesitation, something no one had ever seen in him before.
He took a step closer, his voice low but firm. "How old are you?"
Nana's throat felt dry. Her body trembled, but she forced herself to answer.
"Thirteen," she whispered, her voice shaky.
Kier's frown deepened. He stared at her like he was trying to understand something—something that didn't make sense even to him.
The villagers remained silent, waiting. The guards stood tense, their hands gripping their weapons, unsure of what was happening.
For the first time, the ritual had been disrupted. And it was because of her.
Without warning, Kier turned on his heels and walked away, his dark cloak billowing behind him as he disappeared into his domain.
The silence in the village was deafening. The villagers exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of what had just happened.
One of the guards hesitated before stepping forward, his voice careful. "My lord… should we finish it?"
Kier didn't stop walking. Without looking back, he gave a single, firm answer.
"No."
The guard blinked in surprise. "Then… what should we do with her?"
Kier's voice was cold, final. "Take her to a room. Keep her there."
The guards hesitated, but none dared to question him.
Nana was yanked to her feet and dragged away. She didn't fight this time. Her mind was spinning.
She should be dead. But she wasn't.
And now, she awaits what happens next.