Chapter 363: The wrong girl
The temple stood in the heart of the forest hidden by its ruins, hidden by thick trees and cloaked in silence. Cracked stones lined the floor, dark with age and dried stains no rain could wash away. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth, smoke, and something bitter like burnt flowers and blood.
The flames flickered across the cold stone walls, making shadows stretch and twist. In the middle of the temple stood several stone caskets, long and narrow. One of them had just been opened.
A quiet sound echoed low and muffled. It came from within the casket, the whimper of a girl still breathing.
The priestess stepped forward, her movements slow and deliberate. She was tall, her veil thin enough to show her pale face but keeping her identity anonymous. Her fingers, covered in rings, hovered over the girl like a spider ready to strike.
"She’s the right age," she murmured, voice cold and soft like falling ash. "Her skin is smooth. Pure. The goddess would be pleased."
The ladies of the moon didn’t offer sacrifice just for immortality but for power and influence. All of them were extraordinary beauties, and the main criterion to join them was a face that could kill. It was a beauty that chilled the bone. Their faces were still, their eyes sharp. They were not saints or saviours. They were killers.
The other women said nothing. They watched. Waiting. None of them cared about Hope’s desperate cries; she was no different than a lamb to them.
The girl inside the casket trembled, her wide eyes shining with tears. Her hands were bound, and a silken ribbon gagged her mouth. Hope tried to move, to twist away but there was nowhere to go.
The priestess smiled faintly. "Open the next Casket." the priestess chimed, she wasn’t interested in this one.