Silence weighed down on the cave, thicker than the mist that drifted in from the waterfall. The only sound was the distant roar of water, a constant reminder of where I sat—trapped, waiting. Near the entrance, a stone platform jutted out, and upon it the priestess sat with her back straight, her hands folded in her lap. Her lips moved in whispers I could not hear, but I knew she was praying—to the moon goddess, she said. A necessary devotion before the sacrificial ritual.
My eyes slid toward Mia. She sat apart from the rest, her posture slack, her gaze empty. There was no struggle in her, no spark left in her hollow stare. Some of the villagers shifted uneasily, whispering that she should be tied—bound like a goat before the blade.
Shahib's voice cut them off. Calm, firm, final. "No. Leave her. It isn't needed."
And they obeyed. They always did.
I found myself staring at Mia longer than I should have. She didn't resist, didn't even blink at their words. It was as though she had already accepted her fate, as though her spirit had slipped from her body long before the knife ever touched her. For a reason I couldn't name, that sight unsettled me more than the ritual itself.
They called it survival. That was their reason now. The priestess's chants, the villagers' trembling faith—it was all draped in that one word. Survival.
Something bitter rose inside me.
Yes, this time it truly was survival. But hadn't they been surviving until now? Hadn't they endured, even after all the fires, the blood, the betrayals? Why was it only now, when they had the chance to sacrifice the very girl they once longed to tear apart, that their will to live burned so fiercely?
The thought twisted in me like poison.
I am not cruel. At least, I have never thought myself so. But in this moment, looking at them—these same people who once dragged her to flames, who laughed at her father's blood, who shattered her childhood—I could not stop the thought: they deserve this. Every single drop of it. This is their karma. They do not need to be saved.
And what stings most… they are not even asking her to save them. They are not kneeling, not pleading, not humbling themselves. No—they are demanding. Pressing their will upon her, again. Just as they did before. As if she were nothing more than a vessel for their fear and their hunger.
They broke a happy, innocent child who never wronged them. Her only sin was befriending a monster. A bloodsucking monster, yes—but even that creature had a strange rule, a twisted mercy: it left children alive.
Doesn't that make it more human than them?
The thought seared through me, and I clenched my fists.
Yet even if I argue these villagers deserve to die, I cannot deny the truth—there are still children here. Innocent eyes that have not yet learned cruelty. A handful of people whose hearts have not yet rotted. To damn them all would be a sin of my own.
But here is the twist.
I will make certain of one thing: Mia will not be their fodder. Not this time. Not ever again. Survival is not her burden to bear. She will not be the sacrifice that keeps their rot alive.
And I will not let anyone—not priestess, not villaigers, not these trembling cowards—do anything wrong to her.
Not while I still draw breath.
A voice cut through the murmurs, sharp and commanding. The priestess had risen from her place on the platform, her robes whispering against the stone. "We are ready for the ritual," she declared.
The cave rippled with low whispers, nervous and eager all at once. Someone asked from the shadows, "So… we put the girl on the aisle now?" Another answered almost immediately, "Let's take her."
I stiffened as they moved. Two of them went to Mia, who still sat cross-legged on the cold floor, her face blank, her body too still. They slid their hands beneath her arms and lifted. She didn't struggle, didn't protest—she simply allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. Her small steps carried her forward, quiet, steady, as though she were walking toward nothing at all.
And then… she looked at me.
For a moment, the cavern vanished—the villagers, the priestess, the roar of the waterfall—everything fell away except those hollow eyes finding mine. My chest tightened, my breath caught.
And then, impossibly… she smiled.
It wasn't a smile of joy. It wasn't even hope. It was something gentler, almost serene, like a child who had finally accepted the end of a long, cruel journey. She raised her hand slightly, her fingers moving in a quiet sign only meant for me.
"I am going to meet Mother and Father."
My heart dropped like stone into an endless pit.
They led her to the aisle. The stone was cold, etched with markings the priestess had carved earlier—strange, jagged symbols that curled across the ground in circles and lines, all converging on the center. That was where they placed Mia.
She stood there quietly, her bare feet touching the cold stone, her small frame framed by the symbols. And still… she smiled. That same serene, unnerving smile that twisted something inside my chest.
The priestess lifted her hands and began to chant. Her voice rose low and rhythmic, words old as the mountain itself, syllables that scraped the air raw. The markings began to stir, glowing faintly, and then—blue fumes seeped out from the lines.
They rose slowly, curling like serpents, twining through the cavern air. The smoke shimmered, as though alive, writhing and swaying in time with her voice. The villagers shivered, bowing their heads, their whispers drowned in the rising chant.
And then… silence.
The priestess opened her eyes. They gleamed with strange light as she stood tall, her expression cold, resolved. Without a word, she stepped to the side of the markings, her hands reaching for the weapon waiting there.
A katana. Its blade gleamed pale in the dim light, sharp and final. She lifted it with both hands, its weight steady, its edge angled toward the girl in the center of the markings.
My chest tightened. The time of the sacrifice had come.
"So we are not going to do anything?" I asked my teammates, my voice casual, almost careless. The sound of it cut through the heavy silence, and for a moment, they all just blinked at me.
"It's… necessary, right? We can't fight a Charora," Lie Jun muttered, his tone small, his hands fidgeting at his sides.
"Yeah," Shahib added, nodding, though his voice carried no strength. "Charora is almost impossible to kill. The priestess can handle it with this ritual. It's the only way."
Selena exhaled slowly, shaking her head. "I never thought we'd witness something like this in our very first mission…" Her eyes lingered on Mia, sympathy tugging at her features.
"May her soul rest in peace," Mie Lin whispered. She even bent her head slightly, reverent, as if already mourning. "She's… the savior."
A short, sharp laugh escaped me before I could stop it. It echoed against the cavern walls, startling them all. Their heads snapped toward me, their eyes wide.
"Have you lost your mind out of fear?" Lucian asked, his voice low, bewildered.
I turned to him with a smile that wasn't quite a smile. "Fear? No. You misunderstand." My steps were steady as I began walking toward the aisle, my eyes fixed on the girl standing within the markings. The blue fumes coiled around her like spirits, the priestess's katana gleaming in her hands.
"I am not someone who watches from the sidelines," I said, my voice carrying, steady, unyielding. "I am the main character on this stage."
And with that, I crossed the invisible line that none of them dared to step over.