The Sacrifice

It was a curious thing, to see an ancient wooden sailing ship in this day and age. My mind couldn't quite make sense of it when I approached the port and saw it anchored among the modern expensive yachts and sleek liners. It looked like it had fallen out of time, but I knew that it was exactly where and when it was supposed to be. What's more, I knew why it was there.

The experienced sailors from the more modern vessels watched curiously as the ship- my destination- was prepared. By the time I arrived, it stood proudly with sails crisp and flags flying boldly. It was simply waiting. Waiting for me.

It was almost as though the ship itself somehow knew that it was part of some ancient tradition- one that had been faithfully maintained for countless generations. And if I did what I was born to do, it would be continued for countless more. The fate of the world literally depended on me.

Captain Octavius Clay greeted me as I boarded. He was a short man, nearly as big around as he was tall. A lifetime of salty sea air and relentless sun was etched into his weathered face, but his voice was strong and clear. His men followed him without hesitation or delay, and I got the impression that they would gladly sail with him to the gates of hell itself. What's more, I had no doubt that he would be able to lead them back. Like me, he was born for this journey. The difference was that he would be coming back from it.

"Do you know why you're here?" he asked once we were underway. I stood with him on the quarterdeck, watching the port get smaller and smaller until it disappeared over the horizon. I had never been out of sight from land before. There was a certain freedom in it, I supposed.

I nodded. I did know. It was the only thing I really knew for sure. Every hundred years, the demon at the end of the world required a virgin sacrifice. As long as he got it, he would remain where he belonged. If he didn't, then nothing could stop it.

That was the legend, at least. My ancestors truly believed that he lived at the end of the world. Today, we knew that there was no such place. Not in the literal sense, at least. The island where he lived, though, may as well have been. The sea and terrain past it was impassible and largely unexplored. Because of my bloodline, I was destined to be that sacrifice. I was literally born and raised for him.

Captain Clay, at some point, left me alone to my thoughts.

I didn't see him again until dinner. I imagined there was much to do when it came to sailing a ship, so I was surprised to receive his unexpectedly formal invitation. It came in the form of a nervous sailor who let himself into my cabin before suddenly realizing that he should have knocked first.

"Sorry," the man mumbled. "Not used to having a lady aboard." He looked at his feet. At the boards. Out the window. Anywhere but at me.

"It's fine," I replied gently. In the grand scheme of things, his intrusion was the least of my worries.

The man stood as straight as he could. It was only then that he realized he was more a boy than a man, young and fresh-faced. He cleared his throat. "Ms. Brianna. The captain requests the pleasure of..." he paused for a moment, repeating the words quietly to himself before continuing. "The pleasure of your company in his cabin for dinner."

I thought for a moment. I wasn't hungry and hadn't really thought about eating, but at the same time I appreciate the kind gesture. "Please tell the captain that I accept," accepting his invitation with the same formality that it was given.

The boy smiled and turned sharply, then was gone as quickly as he had come. I was left alone again; waiting, like I always did.

The captain's private cabin was much smaller than I had expected. Despite this, it was filled with various treasures and trophies from countless adventures; adventures that I could only dream of, I was sure. My sheltered life seemed like such a waste when I compared it to what I imagined his to have been.

He only watched from his chair at the far end of the dinner table, which was practically overflowing with food. He was waiting politely, allowing me to speak when I was ready.

"I'll never have a life like this, will I?" I asked. It was a rhetorical question.

I turned and faced the captain. The look on his face told me that it wasn't a question he had expected. I sat, returning the favor by giving him time to collect his own thoughts.

"If you haven't already..." he started. He stopped, thinking about what I had said and how he could possibly offer any comfort given the circumstances. He opened his mouth again, but closed it when he realized there was simply nothing to say "I'm sorry." The words hung heavy in the air; he seemed to truly mean them.

"I never had the chance, not really. But I suppose it doesn't matter." I filled my plate, suddenly very hungry. "I never had any real adventures... can you tell me about yours?" If nothing else, I could see the world through Captain Clay's eyes.

He smiled, and then he began to speak. I leaned forward, hanging on his every word.

From that point on, I spent every available moment with the captain- when he wasn't performing the varied and complex tasks that I knew I was keeping him from the rest of the time. The days turned to weeks, which eventually turned into months as he told me about a world I had ever seen.

I hung on his every word, often falling asleep hearing about the strange and exotic places he had visited and the people he met there. He told me about outrunning pirates in a cargo ship off the coast of Somalia. Sinking in the shark-infested waters of Australia. Battling heavy seas off the coast of Florida. He had lived more deeply than I could ever imagine. More than most could imagine, I realized. His stories helped to pass the time; to forget where I was going, if only for the moment.

"So, the water's just crashing over the bow," he managed. His face was red with laughter; I imagined mine was, too. He was drunk, which wasn't unusual for him. But it was something I had gotten used to. "We're all holding onto whatever they can find, cargo's flying all over the place. I couldn't see ten inches in front of my face." He stopped, taking another draw from his bottle.

I caught my breath. While I didn't drink, I felt as though I was enjoying hearing the story as much as he was enjoying reliving it.

"Suddenly, there's Fisher- he's pulling himself along the rail, shouting something. And he gets closer, and he has to yell so I can hear him."

I leaned in, wiping the laughter-tears from my eyes. "What did he say?"

Captain Clay tried to answer, but lost himself in a fit of laughter. "He grabs onto me and he says, 'Otto, I can't find my duck!' And I look at him, thinking he lost his goddamned mind. And then, out of nowhere, I see this..."

There was a knock at the door. Captain Clay scowled, then he stood up to answer.

"Land, Captain," the sailor announced. He looked somber. We all knew what that meant.

Over the past few months, the captain and I had grown very close. The news clearly devastated him, stealing the laughter from his eyes. I could fresh pain etched on his weather-worn face. He closed the door slowly.

"Well," I began. I hadn't known exactly how I'd feel when the moment came, so I was surprised at how calm I felt then. I didn't know exactly where we were going, but I knew that we were getting close. The air was getting warmer as we came closer the equator; only the captain new exactly where we were going, but I had an idea that we were fast approaching. And now, we were there.

"We could run," he said finally. I was as surprised to hear it as he seemed to be to say it. "It's a big ocean, he won't find you."

I shook my head sadly. "Maybe not. But if he doesn't get what he wants, it doesn't matter where I go. Nothing would matter then. It's something I have to do. It's for you as much as anyone."

I had often wondered if the legends were actually true. The world had never actually ended, so I didn't really have a way to prove it. But, according to the records that had been handed down through my bloodline, every single worldwide disaster coincided with some sort of delay in the sacrifice. The black plague; the Spanish flu; both world wars. Whether mere correlation or causation, it was a risk I couldn't bear to take.

I had grown close to the captain, but for the first time I saw that he had felt close to me as well. I caught him in a brief hug and kissed him on the scarred cheek before pulling away.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine," I lied.

Captain Clay's smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

Neither did he accompany the skiff when his sailors took me to the shore of the small, foreboding island that we had finally reached. I thought, for just a moment, that I saw him through his cabin's window, but I couldn't quite be sure. I wished that he had come, if only so I could see a familiar, kind face for a few more minutes. Of those that had come, I didn't know any of them very well. I supposed that those that I had come to care for during the journey didn't want to be the ones to deliver me to me certain doom.

The men that did come were quick to leave once I was safely ashore. I really couldn't blame them. A part of me wished I could have gone with them, but instead I was left all alone, watching as the ship got smaller and smaller until it disappeared.

All alone.

All alone on a remote island, where no one would ever find me.

All alone with only enough food and water to last for just a few days- hopefully enough time for him to find me. I didn't want to starve to death.

If I were pleasing to him, he would provide for me, bringing me food and fresh water for as long as he wished to leave me alive. If I failed to please him for any reason... it really wouldn't matter, then. I'd be the first to go, and everything I knew and loved would follow shortly thereafter.

I shuddered involuntarily, peering into the shadows of the tree line. I wondered if he was watching me then. Wondered what he looked like. What he would do to me. I forced the thoughts from my mind. I couldn't afford to be afraid. It wasn't my role. I was here for him, and at the same time I was here for everyone.

I changed into my white dress. The ceremonial outfit had been designed and fitted just for me, and it fit perfectly. After a deep breath, I rang the massive metal gong. It had been set in place centuries before I was born, someone would ring it long after I was gone. There was a certain symmetry to it all. There I waited, afraid and uncertain. A willing sacrifice, albeit a reluctant one.

Of all the things I expected to feel after that, boredom wasn't among them. But once the fear started to subside and as the hours ticked away, I was left inventing games in my mind to pass the time. I tried to count the birds that chased each other at the water's edge. I gave a few of them proper names, comparing them to people that I had known back home. Marcus, the largest of the birds, reminded me of my father as he protected some while chasing others away from the food that he provided. I assumed that those staying closest to him were his family.

Eventually, as nightfall came without incident, they flew away to nest.

"Good night, Marcus," I called out as he flew away, his family close behind. Although I tried not to think about it, I knew that I was really saying goodnight- and goodbye- to my family one more time.

The island was unexpectedly quiet at night- that worried me more than anything. I didn't really know what I expected, but I had been pretty certain that I wouldn't be left waiting.

I turned to the trees. I knew he was out there somewhere. "What do you want from me?" I called out. "I'm here, I came. Didn't you hear the gong?" My voice grew louder; I could hear myself shouting, but couldn't really understand why. Anger flashed through me. "What do you want from me?" I scolded. I said it again, but much quieter- almost to myself. "What do you want from me?"

Perhaps he had seen me and didn't want me? What if I was too late? Was this all a cruel hoax or baseless myth? Would I die of starvation, or would I find a way to survive? I laid down in the still-warm, soft sand and tried to ignore those thoughts until I finally drifted off into a light sleep.

My dreams were fevered and strange; twisting, bizarre images that I couldn't fully remember when I woke up. And I woke up so many times that night that I began to lose track of what was a dream and what was reality. Perhaps that was why it didn't seem so strange to me when I finally noticed a man watching me from among the trees.

I closed my eyes, rubbing away the sleep. When I opened them again, he was gone.

"You're imagining things, Brianna," I whispered to myself. "You're just afraid, that's all. There's no one there."

Despite my self-admonishment, I had a feeling that I was still being watched. Despite myself, I took a single step forward. Then another. Then another. Each bringing me closer to the tree line where I had seen the man. I didn't know who he was or what he was doing on the island- as far as anyone knew, it was supposed to be uninhabited. And yet there was a man somewhere out there. Someone that had found a way to survive in an otherwise hospitable place... or maybe someone that didn't know the danger they were really in. Either way, finding them was likely to be better than being alone.

I took a deep breath and took off after him, pushing into the jungle and through the overgrown trail before I could stop to think about what I was doing. I cursed my bare feet as the overgrown and uneven terrain stung at my feet, but I forced myself to continue.

One twist in the path, then another. Up ahead, I caught a glimpse of the man- just for a moment before he turned out of sight again. No matter how fast I walked or ran, he always seemed to be just out of sight.

At least he was, until he wasn't.

I had no idea how far I had gone and I wasn't entirely sure I could find my way back to the beach if I wanted to, but when I rounded the final bend in the path I found him. He was waiting for me.

The word 'waiting' didn't exactly do what he was doing justice. He was prepared for me. He sat on an ancient throne carved from age-worn rocks, which itself sat perched on a raised platform that looked to have been formed from a single, massive slab of quartz. Tiny gems and precious stones were embedded in the stone, and they winked and glimmered in the light that filtered in through the canopy overhead.

It was him. I was in his lair.

I was suddenly very aware that I was very vulnerable. My throat closed up and I shivered subtly. I hoped he couldn't tell; I wasn't supposed to be afraid.

I cleared my throat and stood up as straight as I could. "Greetings. On behalf of all humanity, I offer myself as a sacrifice," I recited. It was reflexive- I had practiced for this moment so many times in my short life that I didn't even need to think about it. "I give you-"

"What's your name?" he interrupted.

"I'm sorry?" I asked, more confused than frightened.

"Your name; do you have one?"

"Y...yes, of course. Brianna."

"Brianna," he repeated.

"What's your name?" I asked, only catching the impertinence after I spoke. I cursed at myself. "I apologize, I..."

He laughed. It wasn't an evil, menacing laugh like I would have expected, but something sweet and pleasant. His eyes were bright, rivaling even the gems set into his throne. He was, surprisingly, handsome.

"I've been called many things," he said. Standing up to recite from memory with a mocking sort of drama. "The Ravager. Tar'quel. The Demon at the End. And, for some reason, Russ." He thought for a moment. "I rather liked that one. You can call me Russ."

"You're human?" I asked, scarcely able to believe it.

"Am I? I never really know until someone says something."

"What do you mean?" I hardly noticed that I didn't feel afraid any longer. Perhaps I should have, but I felt unexpectedly comfortable in his presence.

"I look like whatever someone expects to see. Apparently, on some level, you expected a man. That probably means something, you know. Sometimes someone will see a dark cloud; other times a demon. You saw a man."

I thought for a moment, but wasn't sure what that meant. I had a feeling, though, that Russ probably did.

"Are you going to kill me?" I asked. I wasn't sure if it was a question I was allowed to ask; none of what was happening was what I had expected.

Russ looked confused for a moment, then his face turned sour. "Kill you? Are they still saying that?"

I nodded. "Yes... is it true?" A glimmer of hope.

Russ turned and walked away, then stopped and turned again to face me. "Come with me," he said.

It wasn't a question, but it wasn't exactly an order either. All the same, I didn't really think it wise to start off with defiance when he had been nothing but hospitable so far. I decided to follow; it wasn't like I had too many options otherwise.

We walked together in silence; it was only then that I realized how beautiful the island really was. The foliage was lush and vibrant. Harmless creatures watched curiously as we passed, scurrying away once we got close. I was so distracted by the journey that I hardly noticed when we had stopped.

Russ pointed. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. I knew a graveyard when I saw one.

The trees had been cut away to make room for the headstones. Someone, perhaps Russ, had taken the time to cut and polish a stone for each of the graves. That same someone, I assumed, had kept the grounds neat and carefully-maintained.

I could feel my veins slowly turning to ice. Who else could it be if not those that came before me? My ancestors. My relatives. Sacrifices.

"Why are you showing me this?" I asked. My voice broke, but I tried to hide it. I took a step away, but I knew I wouldn't be able to run- even if I knew where I could run to.

"Look at the dates."

I kept one eye on him as I tentatively stepped forward. The first stone was old. Worn with time, but clean. I didn't recognize the name, but it was the dates that got my attention: 1244-1315. I quickly did the math. "Seventy-one?" I asked, hardly able to believe it. Like me, she would have arrived shortly after her eighteenth birthday. That means she had lived another five decades after that.

The next stone told the same story. Each had lived a very long life, long after those that they left behind thought the were dead.

"Were they trapped here? Am I?"

"No. They were free to leave at any time. As are you."

"And then what? You destroy the world? Kill everyone because I didn't stay? Is that why they stayed?" It was a question, but a pointed one. I swept my arm towards the gravestones as I spoke. I tried to contain my anger, but finding out that your entire life was based on a lie was a hard thing to accept.

"If you leave, you leave. Nothing happens."

"Then why did they stay?" I asked again.

"Because they chose to."

I thought about it for a long time; Russ didn't say anything, allowing me to work through the thoughts. I was raised to belong here; it was all I really knew. I had come from a long line of women that had made the decision to stay. More so, my family had raised me thinking my lot in life was to die- what was really worth returning to?

"I can leave any time?" I asked.

"Any time," Russ repeated. "But I hope you don't."

It was a brief glimpse into the humanity that he may or may not have actually had. I didn't really know for sure, but at least I wanted to find out. That was certainly a lot better than being sacrificed.

At least, I hoped that was true. If he was telling the truth about being able to leave at any time, I had little to lose. And if he was lying about it, then he was probably lying about allowing me to leave in the first place. Either way, I felt safe enough to stay for the moment. It was the only opportunity I would ever have to unlock the mystery that had influenced my entire life, and curiosity had always been my weakness.