Elara stepped boldly out of their small home, the chill night breeze raising goose bumps on her pale flesh. She shivered, but clenched her jaw and moved swiftly out into the late autumnal night. Her pale gown seemed to glow in comparison to the shadow lined doorways and alleys, streaming out behind her like insubstancial wings. She resembled nothing more than a wayward phantasm, drifting in the darkness. She walked hurriedly down the cobblestone street, towards the town square, where the numerous voices of a crowd could be heard. Elara rounded a last corner, and stepped confidently into the square, drawing no attention at first.
All of the commotion ceased as she strode forward, a corridor of worried faces opening between her and a raised platform. As she continued at a measured pace, she couldn’t help but smile as she recognized friends that she had known her entire life. Over there, standing hand in hand, were Daisy and Hal the cooper’s son, just married this summer passed. And old widow Ravyn, who’d been a widow before Elara was old enough to read. She’d married several times, each of her husbands was buried in the local crypt. Sometimes people said nasty things about her behind closed doors, but no one ever dared accuse her of sending four husbands to the grave. If it was the truth, then no one could prove it. If it was not, then widow Ravyn must be the loneliest, and saddest soul in town. Elara gave her the benefit of the doubt.
As Elara moved she felt distant from the world around her, as if she were not a participant in the events to come, but a witness. She was not afraid. She knew that she would not brake into tears like Alisa had done the year before. Tears never helped matters. No one would have to drag her onto the stage, kicking and screaming.
She was at the center of something over which she had no control, so why should she spend what might be the last of her time, afraid? She’d much rather engrave what little she could, upon her memory, in hopes that it would mean something in the next circle. She reached the podium.
The mayor stepped down the four wooden steps, clasping her shoulders and conferring a hug. "You’ve always been a strong girl Elara, and even more beautiful because of it." He sighed. "I wish that things could be different."
Elara found herself smiling again. "I know." She said quietly, as she gave him a hug of her own, and then marched up the stairs. She faced the gathering, searching for her father’s face, to no avail. It’s better this way. Elara was deeply ingrossed in private thought. As strong as he may be, strength won’t help .He just doesn’t understand that not all warriors fight with swords, and not all battles can be won. But that is probably why I love him so much. By doing this, I may be lost, but many others will see the sun rise tomorrow because of my sacrifice. Father will hunt again, because of something that I have done. I can provide for him, and everyone else, the way that they have provided for me.
As she stood before everyone she’d ever known, deep in thought, midnight approached. "For ages midnight has been referred to as the witching hour, for good reason. We of Sarsozo town, are made particularly aware of this fact one night, every year." She paused, took a deep breath and prepared to speak The Litany. As Elara lay her hands upon the pulpit of twisted jade and diamond, it began to warm beneath her fingers. Glittering stars manifested, and began to twinkle beneath it’s surface.
"The Litany says that after the golden times, during the mage wars, a curse was placed upon a village. A wizard of shadow placed this foul curse. Legend says," She grimaced as the podium began to throb beneath her steady hands, emitting a low hum. "That it was in response to the imagined slight, of a woman within the town. No one is certain however, because the details have been lost over the many years since the mage’s wrath was incurred. Although we can not be sure of the source of the curse, nor how to remove it, the consequences have been made obvious."
The podium began to pulse with an inner light, it’s flashes of green synchroning with the ringing hum. Elara began to speak louder. "It was a simple magick, compared to the powers that were released during those days. If someone, or more specifically, a woman, does not present herself to the statue, the curse activates. If the sacrifice is not made, ten people within the town shall die at random. The ancient stone grows brighter, and brighter as she speaks, nearing an almost painful intensity.
"More than one hundred years ago to the day, a man, possessing the higher magicks cursed this town because a woman would not submit to his will. Though I am not truly of this town, I offer myself as a sacrifice, so that many more may live. I have faith that one day, the Guardians of Dawn and the Lords of Light will set you free ." A single tear escaped Elara’s rigid self control. The tone of the ringing podium dropped suddenly, just as the light flared, emblazoning the last images of the village upon Elara’s eyes. As blackness surrounded her, she did not cry out, in her mind, that would demean the sacrifice.
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