The Bearer of the Scales slowly turned toward Erian and extended a hand to him.
Erian remained still. He had not expected them to truly put him on the scales. He thought that, thanks to his voluntary offer, his beauty, and his words, they would accept him. For an instant, he believed that would be enough, that they would look at him and see in him a worthy sacrifice.
A cold sweat ran down the back of his neck.
His heart pounded hard in his chest.
And suddenly, the weight of his actions fell on him like a stone.
He had let the vendor touch and kiss him. He had sold a piece of himself for nothing more than sugar and caramel. His throat tightened, and he wished he could turn back time, even if only for a few minutes.
Erian felt stupid and filthy.
What kind of impure offering did he think he was?
He was no longer pure or worthy.
Even so, when he felt the Bearer's hand brush against his, he didn't pull away. His trembling fingers clung uncertainly to the man's, and he let himself be guided to the center of the altar.
He closed his eyes and murmured:
"Please… if you're there, God of Ruin… if you really made me this way for this… make me worthy. Accept me instead of Nalia… Help me."
***
The ancient runes carved into the walls began to glow.
Seirion opened his eyes.
For a moment, he didn't understand what had awakened him. The stillness of his prison was absolute. But then he felt it: a soft hum, like a warm current in the midst of darkness. And then… a voice.
It bubbled in his mind as if it came from the bottom of a lake, distorted and far away.
It was the voice of a young man.
Seirion blinked, confused. It had been centuries since he had received a prayer. No one prayed to him. No one invoked him except to fear him. What was this, then? A mockery? Another sacrifice?
Seirion leaned forward. There was something different. The voice did not plead with hatred or fear. It was not a prayer to destroy or to curse. It was soft. Full of longing. Full of hope. He could barely make out the words, but he heard one.
Help me.
Seirion, still not fully understanding, closed his eyes, let the prayer surround him, and, for the first time in centuries, answered the call.
***
The Bearer of the Scales gently took Erian's right hand.
"Allow me," he whispered, guiding him carefully.
Erian swallowed hard. His feet trembled, but he did not retreat. He let himself be led, let his fingers touch the golden rim of the scales. His pale skin contrasted with the muted shine of the ancient metal.
Before the Bearer could activate the mechanism, the scales tilted.
The sound of the metal shifting was soft, almost imperceptible but enough to freeze the breath of everyone present.
The Bearer of the Scales remained motionless, eyes wide behind his mask. Surprise struck him like a spear.
Never, in all his years of service, had he seen the scales move on their own. It was always he who had to activate the mechanism, he who secretly decided the weight of each soul.
"What… what's happening?" Erian asked softly, afraid, as he heard no murmurs or protests.
The other two Bearers, standing beside the altar, immediately tensed.
The Bearer of the Scales needed a moment to find his voice.
"It's you…" he swallowed hard. "You are the Dusk Flower… the flower the God of Ruin has chosen."
Erian remained silent, caught between astonishment and relief. His slightly parted lips trembled, unable yet to form words.
Thank you, God of Ruin… Thank you for accepting me and not Nalia.
"May I see her?" Erian asked after a few seconds. "My sister. May I say goodbye?"
The Bearer of Incense and the Bearer of the Book did not respond immediately. They remained still, as if they still didn't understand what had just happened. The divine judgment had been spoken, but the result shattered centuries of tradition.
Then the Bearer of the Scales stepped forward.
"Priestess," he said, raising his voice, "inform the congregation that the God of Ruin has changed his mind. He no longer desires the girl as the offering. He has chosen… this young man."
A woman in a garnet robe, around thirty years old, came out from behind one of the columns. Her gaze was severe, and at hearing the Bearer's words, she turned with a look of alarm.
"A man? As the Dusk Flower? That is heresy…" she murmured.
"Perhaps," the Bearer replied, not taking his eyes off Erian, "or perhaps the God was moved by the love of the young man who offered his life in place of his sister's."
The woman looked at him, hesitant, and her expression slowly lost its rigidity until it became almost compassionate.
"Take him to her," the Bearer ordered. "Allow them to say goodbye. Then take the little girl back to her home."
Erian nodded, relieved.
"I want to be the one to take her home."
The Bearer calmly shook his head.
"No. You can't anymore. You have been chosen. You are no longer a simple human. You are the Dusk Flower. And the Flower must not leave the sanctuary."
"…Alright."
Then, obediently, he stepped back and began to follow the sound of the priestess's soft steps through hallways and staircases he didn't know. He stumbled now and then, but he did not stop. His fingers gripped the staff tightly.
A door opened with a soft creak.
"Nalia," Erian whispered.
The little girl lifted her face at the sound of his voice. In an instant, she hurled herself at him. Her small body collided with Erian's with force, her little arms wrapping around him desperately.
"Eri!" Nalia cried. "Eri!"
Both fell to their knees, holding each other and trembling. They wept openly.
For a moment, Erian forgot everything. It was just the two of them. Like before. Like always.
Erian slid a hand under his tunic, where he had hidden the candied apple. He held it for a second, thought of giving it to his sister… but the memory of what he had done to get it churned his stomach.
He closed his fingers tightly around it and hid it again, feeling nauseous.
Nalia didn't deserve that.
"Hurry," the priestess's stern voice interrupted from the doorway. "The little girl must leave."
Erian nodded with difficulty. He leaned toward his sister and kissed her on the forehead.
"Nalia, listen to me," he said softly. "When you leave here, go to Malric. Tell him to take care of you. Promise me."
"But why?" she sobbed. "You're my brother, you're the one who should take care of me, not Malric."
Erian caressed her gently, touching gently her cheeks, her messy hair, her swollen eyes.
"You're still too young. You can't understand it now… but one day you will. One day you'll know why I did this."
The little girl shook her head, hugging him tighter. But the priestess was already approaching. She reached out and took Nalia by the elbow. Erian felt his sister being pulled from his arms.
"No! Eri, no! I don't want to go! Don't leave me alone!" Nalia screamed, her little arms stretched toward him.
Erian, still on the ground, heart breaking, could only tell her in a shattered voice:
"Be happy, Nalia… Have a very happy life."
And then the door closed.