Trigger Warnings! This story contains brief scenes of death, suicide and murder in the context of human sacrifice, and also mentions of blood, starvation, and plague. 

Our Sacrifice 

by 

C.P. Miller

As I sit in front of my small, shabby home and watch the midnight sky slowly lighten to a reddish gray, I remember the first spring we didn't have a sacrifice. Ellari and I had been ten. The Divines’ chosen pair were brothers, Niko and Kino. They were sixteen and, when they were chosen, they accepted proudly the duty that was theirs alone. 

It is a great honor to be chosen, but like all truly great honors, it is a terrible burden too. I had not envied the older boys. Indeed, it was a relief to me that Ellari and I had not been granted that honor. Let them have the praise of the city, the accolades, and even the immense wealth. I was content with a full belly and a warm home and my twin beside me.

Thirty-three days of ritual and festivities would culminate in the Day of Giving. On that day, one brother would send the other to join the Ancients and serve as Divine Messenger between our world and theirs. For the first twelve, Kino and Niko performed all necessary ceremonies, but on the twelfth night, they fled the city without warning. 

City peacekeepers, common citizens, even youngsters like myself, scoured Belmore’s ancient winding streets searching for them. Farmers and hunters spread out beyond the city swiftly. A scrap of clothing was found at the very edge of the forest. Some of the wealthy ordered their servants to form search parties and enter the forest near there. A few peacekeepers joined them. Not one soul that went in returned. Kino and Niko were gone. 

It was unheard of for Chosen ones to abandon Belmore. Leaving at all was very rare. Only the most desperate would risk traveling beyond the safety of our city and fields. Death waited out there. 

Still, a part of me couldn’t help but sympathise. They would die out there, but they would die together instead of facing a lifetime of separation. Yet, another part of me hated them for leaving. 

When they left, they took with them the blessings of the Ancients. Sickly red clouds that had only ever lingered above the distant mountain range moved in to choke our once blue sky. The little rain they spat was foul smelling and burned any bit of flesh it struck. 

Before that spring, I had known nothing but plenty, warm summers, gentle rains, and mild winters. I used to laugh at the elders when they told me, “Without sacrifice, life is impossible.” Ellari and I would nod at their seriousness trying in vain to restrain our smug grins. We thought their proverbs were silly superstitions, but they were right. They were more right than even they suspected. 

Nine days left until the Day of Giving, the Council of Elders met amid growing panic. Fear and unrest had spread like a plague while they argued and debated for days. Even if another great lottery was held, there was not enough time left for all the necessary rituals of preparation. 

The Spring Sacrifice on the Day of Giving is not some simple brutish ritual of a primitive bygone era. It is a thing of sacred duty and ancient commitment, and it must be done properly to honor our covenant with the Ancients. There are no shortcuts. Even knowing this, the Elders sought desperately to find one. In the end, they ignored Gray Mother's warnings and attempted to choose a substitute pair. 

For the first time in recorded history, the great lottery was held twice in a single year. I remember all too well how frightened I was back then. It feels strange now, to face yet another lottery but not fear the outcome.

Every pair of twins between nine and thirty-three years of age were summoned to the great temple. There were so many of us at that lottery, we didn’t all fit within the ancient inner chapel. Firstborns stood gathered on one side and second-borns on the other. Next to the altar stood a great urn of gold tokens for the firstborn to draw their lots from, and on the other side stood a second massive urn, this one full of silver tokens. 

I still remember the delicately engraved flower bud on my silver token. Its beauty had terrified me. I had not wanted to be chosen then, nor had I wanted the terrifying honor of serving as Divine Messenger. My hand was clutched tight around it, and the edges dug into my sweating palm while I had waited for the rest of the candidates to draw. There were so many twins eligible to serve back then. It took all day for the tokens to be drawn, and by the end, the urns were nearly empty.

If Ellari had drawn a golden flower bud token from her urn, my sister and I would be chosen. Back then, I had felt nauseous even with the thought unframed by words.

Two by two, each pair of twins came forward to present their tokens to Gray Mother, then return them to their respective urns. She smiled when she saw my token, but her smile faltered when she saw Ellari’s. She had drawn a skull. We were not chosen. No one was.

For the first time in the history of the great city of Belmore, lots were drawn by every traditionally eligible pair, and not a single set of twins held matching tokens. Most years, there were a small number who drew matches. From among them, the lots would be collected and drawn again until only a single pair remained. The Chosen. The first born would become Divine Speaker of Belmore, and the second born would become Divine Messenger of Heaven.

Gray Mother had cackled with bitter mirth before she began to weep. It was a sign she said. The Ancients wanted none of us. They wanted Niko and Kino. They would accept no substitute, and Belmore would suffer.

I’m still not sure why she laughed and then cried.  Maybe she knew what would happen next.

Again our Council of Elders met. They debated all through that night. Debate turned to bickering. Five days remained before the Day of Giving. Time had run out the day Niko and Kino had disappeared, but elders can be as stubborn as mules, and we were all desperate for a solution. Against Gray Mother's wishes, they extended the pool of candidates. Every pair of twins must report. The youngest could barely speak and the oldest could barely stand. 

That had been my third lottery. Ellari made me eat breakfast before we went to the temple. Dread made me throw it back up before we even stepped out of the house. That day, the temple was flooded with people, but I barely remember the tight press of bodies around me. 

I do remember trembling as I plunged my hand into the urn for the third time in my life. For the third time in a single year, I prayed to the Divines not to choose me, not to make me leave Elarri and join them. My token was a skull. The same skull Ellari had drawn from the gold urn the day before. I wept loudly as others drew their tokens. Many people wept that day, mostly the youngest, but older folk as well. 

Even the memory of how sick I felt makes me just a little bit queasy now, though that fear is no longer with me. I was sure I would lose my twin. I was not the only one. 

But, for the second time in Belmore's history, there were no matching pairs. Ellari had drawn my flower bud. I did not like that we had drawn each other's coins. It felt like an omen, but Ellari held me tight and told me it would be alright. Her tears were wet in my hair, but her voice was steady. Her hands were steady. Ellari was always steady. Always sure of everything. Never afraid. Not like me . . . 

This second failed lottery convinced the council to heed Gray Mother. She secluded herself for the handful of days that remained until the Day of Giving. When the holy day came, instead of Niko and Kino at the altar, there was only Gray Mother. Fatigue from her long days and sleepless nights of prayers was written in shadows under her eyes. Her voice was strong and steady, though she looked as if she might collapse at any moment. "Today, the Day of Giving, we have failed to honor our covenant with the Ancient Divines. We have forgotten that to be chosen is a duty even more than it is an honor. Today, our precious twin-borns fear to be chosen to serve Belmore.”
I had felt as if Gray Mother were speaking to me directly and guilt had twisted my belly as she went on. “They fear to serve the Ancients. They fear to serve their city and their people, because we have failed as a people, and for our failure, we shall be punished.” Grief cracked in her steady voice, but she continued, and her stern words carried out of the temple and to the densely crowded street beyond. “The burning red rains will poison the land and water. Our crops, our animals, and we ourselves will suffer as penance. Because one would not die, many will suffer and die in his place. Next year, we will hold another Great Lottery. It will be on the first day of spring . . ."

I don’t remember the rest of her speech. It must have been inspirational to many, because I do remember some people were smiling despite their fear. Outside though, under the thunderous blood thirsty clouds, there were no smiles. A blinding bolt of lightning struck the bell tower, and a deafening roll of thunder drowned out our screams of terror as the gathered crowd fled in a panic. 

Up to that day, the red clouds that had moved in after Kino and Niko disappeared had only released a few stinging drops. Now, they unleashed the full fury of Those we had offended with our failure and cowardice. Elarri tugged me against the flow of the crowd, back toward the temple, and we waited there for the rain to stop. 

Gray Mother’s predictions all came to pass. The crops people tried to sow never sprouted. Even weeds and grass began to die off, leaving nothing but scarlet mud right up to the edges of the forest. It was not only the foodstuffs that died unsprouted; flax for linen and the herbs grown for medicines also suffered. People’s clothing grew ragged, even among the wealthiest. Gold cannot ease hunger or clothe a cold body in winter any more than it can heal sickness.