Erian was on the stage, standing among the trembling bodies of others being held. He didn't know exactly how he had ended up there. He barely remembered the pressure of the hands that had grabbed him, the firm voice ordering him to move forward, the spear brushing his back as a warning.
One of the Dawn Enforcers had dragged him through the crowd and placed him beside a group of adults, mostly mothers, holding small girls in their arms.
Some of them still wore the dried flower crowns from the children's choir, their white dresses were wrinkled, stained with dust. They cried in silence or clung to their mothers' necks, eyes wide open.
Erian held Nalia tightly against his chest. The girl sobbed. He forced himself to breathe deeply, to calm down. But it was hard. His heart was pounding out of his chest.
If I weren't blind, we'd have gotten away, he thought.
If he had seen the gap in the crowd, if he had run faster, if he had known which way to turn…
If he didn't depend on other people's eyes to move through the world, he would have escaped with his sister.
Nalia shivered in his arms. He hugged her tighter, wishing he could wrap her with his entire body, shield her from the cold, from the incense, from the judgment about to fall.
The Enforcers surrounded them, stood still, like statues of black steel.
And in front of them, at the other end of the stage, the three Bearers waited in their ornate seats.
"I do not take pleasure in this either," declared the Bearer of the Scales, feigning sorrow. "But the God of Ruin is cruel, and we cannot question His will."
"The God of Ruin does not love. He does not forgive. And His hunger never ceases," said the Bearer of Incense.
"Only through the offering of a pure flower will autumn bless us with its fire, and not its fury," concluded the Bearer of the Book.
One by one, the adults with girls in their arms began approaching the scales. Their steps were trembling. Some mothers could not stop crying. Others walked as if in a trance, their daughters clinging to their necks or hiding their faces in them.
The procession was slow and painful. Each reached the platform, placed the small hand on the golden plate, and held their breath.
The scales swayed. Judged. Balanced. And returned to their center, without tipping.
When it was Erian's turn, the young man hesitated. He clutched Nalia tightly but didn't know which way to walk. He took an unsure step, then another, but the stage was an empty expanse he could not see, and the murmurs of the crowd gave him no useful direction. Nalia's hand gripped his tunic.
An impatient Enforcer shoved him forward. Erian stumbled but didn't fall. The murmur of the audience grew louder.
"Can't you see what you're doing, you idiot?!" snapped the Bearer of the Scales. "Can't you see this beautiful woman cannot see?"
A tense silence blanketed the plaza. No one spoke. Not even Erian.
The Bearer came down from the platform with slow steps. He stopped in front of Erian, staring at him closely. And though his face was hidden behind a mask, it was evident his eyes lingered on each feature of that beautiful face.
"Allow me to help you," he said sweetly.
Erian didn't reply.
The Bearer placed a gloved hand on the young man's shoulder and guided him, almost tenderly, toward the scales. He crouched before Nalia, who hid her face in her brother's chest, refusing to move.
"Don't be afraid, little girl," the man whispered. "It's just a little game for the gods. A moment, and it will all be over. Yes?"
Nalia whimpered.
"I promise it won't hurt at all," the Bearer added, gently stroking her hair.
Very slowly, Nalia stretched out a hand toward the golden plate. Her fingers trembled.
The Bearer held the scales, ready for judgment.
And Erian, his heart on the brink of the abyss, could only clench his teeth and hold his breath.
Silence.
"Eri…" Nalia sobbed.
Erian's heart skipped a beat.
Everything remained silent.
"The chosen offering… is her," the Bearer announced.
Erian stumbled back, his breathing turning erratic, his legs weakening.
"No…" he murmured in a faint voice.
He pulled Nalia to his chest, took a step back, then another, as if retreating could rip her away from the fate that had just been imposed.
"No! No! No!" he shouted in despair.
He spun on his heels, groping blindly at the edge of the stage, searching for an escape route that didn't exist.
Then, he stumbled.
He fell to his knees on the stage boards, shielding Nalia with his body. The girl cried, clinging to his neck, sobbing his name over and over.
The Dawn Enforcers approached. One of them tried to tear Nalia from his arms. Erian kicked wildly, protecting his sister like a cornered animal.
"Don't touch her!" he shouted.
"I understand your pain, blessed woman…" said the Bearer of the Scales from the other end of the stage. "But you must feel honored. Thanks to your offering, the people will live another year in the grace of the gods. Your flower will be sown in the abyss, and from its root, the blessing will bloom."
Nalia began to scream when cruel arms tore her from her brother.
"Eri!! No! Eri, help me!!"
Erian crawled across the floor, clawing at the wooden boards with his nails. He reached one of the Enforcers' legs and clung to it desperately.
"Leave her! Please, I beg you, take me instead! Me!"
The Enforcer, with contempt, kicked him hard in the face.
Warm blood spilled from his nose and trickled over his lips, but Erian didn't stop. He struggled to his feet, swaying.
And then he felt arms wrap around his waist.
"Erian, stop!"
It was Malric.
"Let me go! Please, let me go! She's my sister!" Erian shouted, stretching a trembling hand toward where he had heard Nalia's cry.
"Please, Erian… please," Malric whispered, holding him tightly. "You're going to die if you don't stop."
But Erian only heard Nalia's screams as he remembered the broken promise of a candy apple.