Lunation of Fate

Chastine was about to be killed as tribute.

Bound in a prison cell, her flesh and blood was going to be offered to the god of the werewolves in the morning. After being experimented on for their self-serving motives, her final day ends on the tribute stone to be slaughtered and eaten. The wolf god prefers a vestal offering for this ritual and she fits the bill.

And there she was in chains, as her hope for survival dissipates. All she wanted was to be a free human since that was what she hadn’t achieved in her waking life. But cruel fate just won’t let her have it.

A chinking sound of bolt and hinge being unfastened was heard within Chastine’s earshot. The noise echoed within the chambers of the underground jail. It seems to be that someone had opened the main gate of the dank and dreary slammer.

A pair of footsteps drew nearer towards Chastine’s cell. Louder had those footsteps became, then it halted in front of the gated side of her room. She saw the pair belong to a male fellhound, a human tainted with the curse of the wolf-god.

“Are you the witborn from the watchtower?” The man inquired of her origin. She saw the man to be brawny, but the man didn’t seem to be hairy like what they say of his kind. Chastine didn’t utter a word.

There was a moment of silence before the man say another string of words. But Chastine just couldn’t bring into herself to have a little chit-chat with the male stranger. In her mind it was futile to have a conversation with one of her captors as she is going to die soon by their hands.

But the male werewolf just wouldn’t give up to strike a conversation with her. He somehow had an idea on what was going on inside Chastine’s mind: that is, to break free from her chains.

The man smirked a little and revealed to her the motive of his visit, “what if told you that you can get out of here alive?”

Chastine’s face suddenly lit after hearing that hopeful statement. She recognized that his words had a serious, I’m-not-kidding tone. She responded by standing up, the chains on her hands and feet noisily clunking as she approached him at a good distance, her face finally catching some light beams revealing her face.

“Ah,” the fellhound was amused and smiled at the sight of Chastine’s face, “so this is what you look like. They must’ve prepared you for the feast in the morning. Beautiful.”

She could see in his eyes that he was indeed pleasantly surprised at seeing her physique.

Chastine was bathed and groomed. Her dark brown hair was half tied, with the tie loosely braided in an aesthetic fashion. They have also clothed her with a white flowy long gown that plunges down to her buckle-less belt sitting low on her waist. If you’d put a crown of flowers on her head, she would look like a bridesmaid in a wedding ceremony.

Chastine rarely hears sincere flattery. One might think it’ll lighten up the mood but her serious mood just wouldn’t change. She felt more determined at hearing the next line the man will spew out. Whatever he’ll say next was her ticket to getting out of the turf of the fellhounds.

“What do I need to do?” Chastine muttered with a determined look on her face, the inner tip of her brows almost meeting at the middle. She’ll do whatever it takes just to set herself free from her current chains.