They come for me as the first bells toll. Normally, that sound would signify that the first shift of workers was due at their workstations, whatever that may be. Today, they have an ominous tone, a signal that the hunt ceremony is about to begin.
I have just barely enough time to hide the pouch around my body before six guards burst through the doorway. I’m tough and determined when I want to be, but they are armed with swords and brute strength. With my too thin frame, I wouldn’t stand a chance right now. I’m weak, and I hate that.
Suddenly wishing that I focused more on gaining strength in the past months than rebelling against my father, I thank whoever is listening that at least my thin frame makes it easy to hide the pouch beneath my shift. There is extra room, thanks to my boney hips and shoulders, so I’m able to stash food and a knife inside. I don’t know how much the knife will help, but at least it’s something. Better a small knife meant for fruit than no weapon at all.
Stepping from the gilded prison and into the streets, I take in all those lining the edges. All of Shadow Lands is required to come witness this desperate parade, this sacrifice, to keep the monsters at bay.
After all, what’s one woman to save everyone? I see the relief written in their faces that it’s not them, along with the fear that one day, it might be.
I’ve never wished for the monsters to tear through the Gilded Lands more than I do right now. What chaos would that create? What was this world like before the barrier existed? I’ll never know, not truly, not as I’m being marched to my death.
The barrier isn’t a wall in a traditional sense. One would think it would take stone as high as you could see to keep monsters out, but it takes something more than that.
It takes magic.
The barrier between the Shadow Lands and the Dead Lands is nothing but a wall of thorns and vines, intertwined so tightly, you can’t see through them. They are taller than I am, perhaps twice as tall, but it doesn’t seem like enough to keep out the worst of the monsters. I don’t even know what they could be, but I can only imagine they are gruesome, horrifying creatures. My brief weeks in school had shown me a few of them, some of the worst, but I’d been ripped from that freedom too soon to learn what I needed for this.
I’m stopped just before the barrier and made to stand in front of them, staring at where the opening appears every year like clockwork. There’s no need to guess when the vines will open to allow a single woman to pass. It’s scheduled religiously, and every year, we’re forced to attend. Last year, I watched as Beatrice had been shoved into the other side without mercy. She cried, screamed, and begged the king to stop the madness. I felt terrible for her, but like everyone else, I just stood there and watched the vines close on her terrified voice. Unlike others, I stood there and listened to the sounds of the monsters screeching their excitement over a new hunt.
I won’t give them the satisfaction of begging or crying. I’ll walk across that line willingly with my chin held high. Not a single tear will fall from my cheek—that I can promise.
Kai is standing off to the side with my father and mother. Mother looks as empty as she always does, her eyes focused on the sky rather than her daughter who’s about to be offered to the monsters. She’d rather disappear inside her mind than face reality. It’s too late for my mother, but it’s not for my sister. She still has a chance at happiness. She still has a shot to live.
Our eyes meet as I look at her. Her face is swollen and red from her own tears, but she meets my gaze without flinching. Her mouth moves, forming the words, “I love you,” so that she won’t be reprimanded for speaking out.
I hold my fist over my heart, telling her that I love her and that she should be happy. Kai would never survive in the Dead Lands, but me? I’m going to survive if it’s the last thing I do.
At least I’m going to try.
When the king appears with his group of concubines, it takes everything in me not to snarl at him. Fat with gluttony and coated in gold and jewels, the king seems to rub his richness and status in our faces. When everyone bows to him, I remain tall, my chin tipped up. The king’s eyes land on me. Before this, I would have been put to death for the slight. Now, I’m being put to death in a different way.
The joke will be on him.
The concubines, who are gathered submissively around the king, watch me curiously, a mixture of Gilded Land girls and Shadow Land girls deemed far too pretty for the likes of us. They are all young, too young, despite there being plenty of women of age. The king’s eyes trail over Kai, who stands with my parents, and his brow rises, but my shift and clearing of my throat draws his attention back to me and away from my sister.
Those of us from the Shadow Lands appear so different from this king dripping in jewels, it’s disgusting. I was just like them only yesterday—dirty and beaten down, eyes hollow and empty, and treated no different from livestock—before I was dressed up to be thrown to the monsters.
This was our fate, but now my fate has changed, and I won’t waste it.
“Every year, we commemorate the day we were gifted freedom from the monsters in the Dead Lands,” the king says loudly, the hushed crowd going still at the looming threat. He towers above us on the wooden podium, breaking the backs of his soldiers who are holding it up so no speck of dirt can touch this godly king. No one will interrupt the king unless they want to die. “This year, we have a volunteer.” He looks at me again and narrows his eyes. “Let the monsters tear her apart and show her how we handle defiance in this world.”
Bravery has me replying. That, and the knowledge that I won’t be hurt before being offered for the hunt. I need to be intact for such games.
“Cowardice is how you handle it,” I spit out. “Only a coward sits in his gilded castle dripping in gold while his people starve.”
The smile that pulls at his lips drips with malice. “May your offering bring us a prosperous year.” They are words that have been spoken many times before, every year, and always with the same careless tone.
“May the crown on your head break your neck,” I respond.
I don’t know where the bravery comes from. Perhaps, with my death on the horizon, I’ve realized just how doomed I am, so everything I’ve ever wanted to say comes to my mind.
Looking out over the other Shadow Lands people, I say, “We were meant for more than this.” I meet the king’s gaze head-on. “We were always meant for more than to bend and break under your rule.”
I get no more time to sow my seed, no more time to practice my newfound bravery. The bells toll again, and the magic of the barrier begins to move.
The thorny vines begin to move, almost vibrating with the preserved magic. The inky black spiked tendrils slither open, revealing a human-sized hole.
My chin never dips, even as I stare at the darkness beyond.
