Trigger warning - I can't even say it is gore, but it gets... oh well.
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The dungeon gates were thrown open and the unfortunate prisoners, chosen.
Amongst them was a baby fresh out of his mother's womb, still bathed in blood, his newborn cries filling the dead night and the stinky dungeon.
Weak, and forced down with after-birth pains, his mother begged for the King's witch to take her instead.
Her blind silver eyes sent chills down the new mother's spine, the red slightly glowing light on her forehead, terrifying. The witch towered over her and if it wasn't that she valued her baby's life more than her own, she would have surrendered to defeat, scurrying away, despite the pain she was feeling.
Her long fingers trailed down the side of her face, her long red polished nails digging lightly against her dirty, sweaty, and tear-stained skin, as she gave her a blinding smile.
"Save him if you can."
The mother's eyes flickered to her baby in the witch's grip.
She had not even had the opportunity to hold her baby.
She tried to reach forward but two guards held her back, and her struggles got frantic, till the weakness in her body forced her to stop.
She was bleeding even more now.
Weak.
So weak.
When all she could produce was her shallow breathing, Kestra spoke up again, taunting her.
"You can't?" She stood up straight, ignoring the baby whose high-pitched cry still sliced through the darkness of the dungeon walls. "A pity."
Her heels clicked against the ground as she walked away. Knowing the implication of that, the mother gave all the fight could.
She screamed. She cried. She grieved.
All futile.
The twenty-one chosen prisoners were taken away too, the mother of the newborn completely restrained, as Kestra took her baby away, smiling with contentment at the pureness of her sacrifice.
A baby's aura was strong, clean, and the connection? Powerful.
It was everything.
It was pure luck and there was no better sacrifice.
The baby's cries though were annoying, something deep in her hated it.
There were different places in the Castle. This one was an underground hall with a special ceiling that had a clear view of the glowing moon.
The candlelight were too few and darkness seemed to fill the space more than any other thing that was present.
The guards that had come in moved like mindless beings, the alterer they had on them, making them not question this, diverting their minds from even thinking about it.
They followed instructions, blindly.
The prisoners were forced to their knees around a podium that Kestra stood upon, their hands chained together as well as their legs. Kestra had taken her time to carve some symbols on their forehead with a sharp blade, just as she had taken her time to ensure that all the prisoners that were chosen weren't from the Capital.
The thing was that since everyone from the Capital had an altered mind as a result of the Alterer being on them, it was always a risk to use them for any sacrifice, since they sometimes turned out to be unfit.
That was a lesson she had learnt from preparing the souls of one of the brides they had taken from the Capital.
Mariyan? No. Marikita?
Yes, that was her name.
She had almost been unlucky with that one, and by the time she had taken her life, it felt like a rip had been created where she was storing the Brides' souls.
Kestra was sure she had nothing to be worried about though, the three necklaces she had around their necks would keep her sacrifices intact.
One would ensure they always looked happy, just in case they were dreamt about.
One ensured they remained locked in as her Prepared Souls with no way out.
The last, which had been given to them first, was to keep them away from the Bride Thief.
Kestra noted the last words in mockery.
The thief indeed.
Her unfortunate coverup.
The third necklace was useless but it would be a hassle to start taking them off their necks. She had better things to use her time for.
Excitement rushed through her veins. She had never done this before but she couldn't wait to finally bring the Blood Moon here.
She just hoped she was powerful enough for the pull.
The prisoners formed a circle around Kestra, as she placed the still crying baby on the flat surface of a pillar-like structure, where the light of the moon glowed upon.
Kestra took in a shaky breath, raising her hands, her eyes fixed on the moon, as she started chanting.
Her forehead glowed red, and her voice changed.
Powerful.
Voices belonging to many whose powers she had consumed.
It was deafening, unnatural, and eerie.
The baby's cries were diminishing, slowly.
Red lines went around the curved walls of the hall, like lightning. They crept first to the baby, going around him like a rope and tightly trapping him to the surface he was laid upon. Then the thin red lines crept into the baby's eyes, mouth, and nose. The crying ceased, as red light emitted from the baby's eyes and opened mouth.
The prisoners watched the horror, they tried to run despite their weakness, but the magic was faster, their attempt to escape futile.
Soon enough, they were all just like the baby.
Trapped by the red lines and emitting red light from their eyes and mouth, their faces turned towards the moon. The drawing on the floor around them, illuminated by the red lines.
Kestra's chanting increased.
The voices she spoke through, were powerful.
Crashing against one another with their contradicting nature. Like they were trying to tear apart yet forced back together.
Consumed by the intensity of the power, Kestra's eyes were forced shut, as unnatural wind swept around her, slashing her skin like a blade, drawing blood.
So, it began.
She could hear the bells in her head, as she raced forward in time to pull the moon to the moment she was physically in.
An hour gone.
Two hours.
Three.
Four.
Till it was too fast for her to count.
She was getting closer, the pain she felt from tampering with nature fading away the closer she got to her target.
That Blood Moon.
It was within her grasp.
She could see it.
It was so close.
Yank!
She was pulled back.
Thrown into the past. The very one she had performed sacrifices to make herself forget.
Here she was, reliving it.
It was a rainy night and she had wandered into the woods, her legs unstable with the labour pain of a child she had done everything to get rid of, till the risk of her losing her life had gotten in the way.
A woman had found her and helped her to her cabin, where she gave birth.
At the first cry of the child, everything changed, and when she held her baby in her arms, she wondered why she ever thought of getting rid of her.
It was stupid.
Those tiny hands gripped around her pinky and the warmth was everything she was missing.
It was life.
Kestra had never been this happy, not even while being with Eli. At that moment, she felt ready to leave everything and be a good mother.
It just felt right.
Till everything went wrong.
Light vanished from her baby's eyes, her cries silenced by death.
Kestra's emotions had been so overwhelming that she couldn't control it, and as her magic was trained to always take, she had taken her baby's life, and fed on the soul of her happiness.
Everything after that was a blur. She had shouted at the woman to take the baby from her as she trembled, and asked her if her baby was alive.
At the confirmation of the child's death, she had screamed, clenching her chest while she questioned herself, if there was anything she loved that she wouldn't kill.
She was pulled back into the presence, her grief rolling over.
She fell on her knees and wept, her hands that were filled with her own blood, clenched against her chest.
Her sacrifices laid around her barely breathing.
The moon above her tinted slightly with a shade of red, but she couldn't even celebrate her little victory.
Too broken.
Channeling her grief, she continued the ritual.
This time, with more intensity and turbulent wind.
((A little something - Can you take a guess at who the new mother at the beginning of this chapter is?))