Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Vhaena
VOTING DAY
“It was a good night. Pa would have loved it,” Vosten said, breaking the silence as we neared our house.
“Yeah…”
The darkness was calming, soothing—wrapping around me like a welcome cloak. I missed my father. I wished he could have been here. Today would have been his fifty-fifth birthday and was the seventh one we’ve celebrated without him.
“Did you have a good time?”
“Despite Daemon being there, I did.”
Vosten sighed heavily.
“What?” I groaned, not bothering to hide the annoyance in my tone. From the sigh, I could tell he was frustrated.
“Nothing. I just don’t know what’s gotten into you with him. One minute you were fine with him, then the next you weren’t. Are you ever going to tell me what happened?” He wasn’t berating me, and the question seemed genuine.
And I knew it was. But I wasn’t going to tell him. There was nothing he could have done, and it would only hurt him.
“Just drop it, Vos,” I said quietly.
“Did Daemon do something? Did he say something? Did he hurt you?”
“You’ve asked me this a hundred times, and the answer is still the same: no. Did I want Daemon there? No. But it’s not like this was the worst night of my life or anything.”
That was reserved for the night my father was killed.
I still remembered every single moment, and it replayed in my mind in slow motion; every minute detail just as fresh as it was seven years ago.
My father being taken away. My mother’s screams. Hands gripping my arms as Vosten and I were held back, helpless to stop our father being dragged off into the darkness.
Demons.
I hated demons.
Then the memory of the following night began to play in my mind. When I was embraced by a comforting presence. Face buried in his chest and tears streaming down my cheeks, Daemon had held me until dawn.
Vosten pushed open the door to our house, and I shoved the memory away, reminding myself why the Corse family name left a bitter taste in my mouth.
“I know…” my brother said as we entered. “And I know you don’t want to tell me what happened, but always know that I’m here—whenever you’re ready.”
Maybe someday, when this all blows over, I thought to myself.
He ran his hand through his hair and blew out a breath when I didn’t respond. “I can feel it, you know.”
“Feel what?”
“When you have a bad day. I can just tell. Even when we’re not in the same room. Ever since we were kids, it didn’t matter if you were across town, somehow, I knew. And I remember suddenly knowing you were upset one day last year.”
I had the same weird twin-sense, too. It was like a small twinge inside me whenever Vosten was extremely angry or sad.
“Do you want to know what kills me about that the most?” he continued and I held his gaze. “That feeling from you hasn’t changed since that day. Not once. Not even a little.”
My head lowered. “I’m sorry.” I had tried to be happier like I used to be, but no matter how hard I willed my emotions to change, they wouldn’t. They were defective and broken—stalled in a state I couldn’t escape.
“Don’t be sorry. Just know you can tell me anything if you want. I’m always here, and I’m not going anywhere. Alright?”
Of course, I wanted to. But I couldn’t…
I nodded as I went into my room, closing the door without saying another word and finally finding sleep.
“You ready to go?” Vosten’s muffled voice sounded from the other side of my bedroom door.
I blinked the sleep from my eyes, squinting from the morning light.
There was a gap between the wood planks I had nailed over the window the first night I stayed here almost a year ago.
That was after my house was attacked only a week after the night that changed the rest of my life, and the light shone down directly onto my pillow every morning.
Vosten had given me the only room in the house.
He’d insisted on it, despite my initial rejection.
I was riddled with guilt that I had practically kicked him out of his own room because of shit that wasn’t even my fault.
Not that I wasn’t grateful, because I was. I just hated the entire situation.
My mother and Vosten were convinced it was demons who had attacked me that night, but it wouldn’t have surprised me if they were only men. Either way, I was staying here until Vosten felt it was safe for me to live on my own again.
I did what I could around the house, keeping it clean and trying to make it a little nicer; but it was hard when the home was as old as it was.
Vosten had been fixing it up when he had the time, but he worked long hours and most of his projects in the house were half-finished—which just made it look worse than it was before.
“Vhae? Are you even up?”
I cleared my throat. “Um, yeah. I’ll be ready in just a few minutes.”
He was silent for a moment. “You just woke up, didn’t you?”
“Maybe…” I said sheepishly.
I rolled out of bed and slipped out of my nightgown before walking over to the bowl on the table by the door.
I splashed my face, missing running water.
Vosten hadn’t had the chance to set it up in his house yet, even with my constant nagging.
My previous house was newer and already had plumbing when I bought it, so I’d been spoiled.
“Well, hurry up,” he called, and I could practically hear his eyes rolling. “We still have to cast our ballots, and I have to get to work.”
My face fell as I was reminded of our yearly civic duty. “Yeah. I’ll be right out.”
Voting day. The one day a year when we were forced to cast our humanity aside and put in a ballot for who should be sacrificed to the devilish monsters who hid among us.
Demons looked like humans. We had no idea who they were or how many, where they lived or what they did. The only thing we knew was that once a year, they required one person—a woman—to be handed over for the Hunt.
No one knew when it started, or if it had just been this way since the beginning of time.
It was only a couple of decades ago we found out someone could prevail when a woman survived and was allowed to come back.
Not many did. There had only been a few of them out of the thousands who had been taken.
Every town in Erdenvale had to sacrifice a woman or face severe consequences.
There were multiple accounts across history where a town had refused, and the next day, those towns didn’t exist anymore.
Either one woman died, or everyone did. The buildings were burnt to the ground, animals and livestock slaughtered, and bodies—drained of blood—piled up in the town center as a warning to all others: comply and your town will be left alone.
And most towns did. Ours included.
I threw on a long-sleeved cream shirt and tucked it into my skirt, then laced up my corset before putting on my boots.
I didn’t have time to deal with my waist-length hair, so I quickly ran a brush through the red strands and tied the front half behind my head with a ribbon, leaving the rest down.
After brushing my teeth, I rushed out of the room, grabbed my bag, and met Vosten at the front door.
The sound of Neo’s squawk let me know he wasn’t far as Vosten and I made our way toward the town center.
We lived just outside of Nillah; close enough it only took a couple of minutes to walk before we saw the line of townspeople waiting to vote at the booth next to the blacksmith’s shop.
I wasn’t sure how other towns did it, but Nillah came up with a system—a shitty one, but one that worked.
As soon as you were old enough to vote, you were old enough to be sacrificed.
Every person over the age of twenty was required to cast a ballot the day before the summer solstice, choosing who they deemed the most dispensable woman of our society.
The town’s way of using the Hunt as a purge.
It was only women. Never any men. And no one knew why.
There was one story about how, long ago, the neighboring town of Laenton had selected a man, but then it was attacked in the night.
All the livestock was killed and every last acre of crops burned as punishment from the demons.
A warning note was left, stating it had to be a woman. And since then, women it has been.
I hated it.
Did I have another solution? No. But it was still sickening to send a woman to her death. Generally, the town’s vote went to someone who had committed a crime—like a murderer, thief, or someone who hadn’t paid their taxes if we were low on candidates.
I stayed by Vosten’s side as we waited in line with everyone else. My eyes roamed, fixating on one particular pillar of the blacksmith’s shop…
Five years ago
“I have to work in the morning, so I’m going to call it a night. Want me to walk you home?” Vosten offered. He looked absolutely dashing tonight in his nicest clothes, even if it was just a button-up shirt and clean pants. It was his carefree smile, the peace and happiness of his features.
It was Erntenacht, the last night of the harvest season, marking a successful yield of crops to get our town through the winter.
It was a night of celebration with music, drinking, and dancing.
I always loved this time of year, and Erntenacht was a night to remember.
Ma and I had sewn a new dress for me this year—a long-sleeved dress with a scoop cut, dyed in a blue so deep it looked like the midnight sky.
I glanced behind my brother and noticed Daemon leaning against the side of the building, looking like he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. The side of my lips lifted.
“Nope! I’m going to stay for a bit longer. The musicians are really in the zone tonight, and I want to keep dancing.” The sounds of the lutes and horns filled my soul and willed my feet to move.
“You really should—”
“Dancing!”
He chuckled. “Fine, but no more drinking. You’ve had enough, and you’re on Ma duty tomorrow.”
I waved him away, rolling my eyes. “Go away now, Vos.”
Just as he left, Bastian approached me with a grin.