Chapter 11 Vhaena #2
“Wrong. We’d be much easier to kill—more people makes us easier to track.
You’d be asking for a massacre. You think fifty women could overpower demons?
Not even knowing how many there are? Not a chance.
I’ve trained for this my whole life. I know how to hide, and I know how to survive in the wild.
I know how to forge weapons from my environment.
You don’t. You would only slow me down. Why should I risk my chance of survival because you are ill-prepared?
Why should you gain from my hard-earned advantages, when you haven’t done a single thing to prepare for this?
” She wasn’t being rude. She was just stating facts.
Bitch.
The space fell silent, broken only by the water rushing along the hull of the ship. The glimmer of hope was smashed to smithereens.
I swallowed. “I didn’t think I’d be chosen. I didn’t think I’d need to prepare. Our town chooses criminals—thieves and murderers. I spent my life making sure I didn’t fuck up in a way that would risk it. I didn’t think there was a chance…”
It was all for nothing. I could have stolen the medicine for my mother instead of spending all my money. I could have killed Asher. I could have fought back. I was voted out of Nillah all because of a false rumor—a whispered lie, twisted by gossip no one bothered to confirm.
My chest rose and fell, anger fuming inside me.
“You’re a woman,” Amalia said softly. “A woman from a town with a voting system. There was always a chance. That should have been enough.”
Her statement stopped my spiraling train of thought.
She was right.
I hated it, but it was true. There was always a chance, no matter what.
Any woman could have been voted for. The demons didn’t care who it was or how they were chosen.
Nillah decided to do a voting system of who was worsening their society, who they could stand to lose.
I was chosen because my town thought I was filth.
The other women began conversing, crying, and shouting.
“What about you?” Inka whispered. I turned away from Amalia to face her.
“Do you want to stick together? Work as a team? We can take turns sleeping, watching out for each other at least.” Her eyes flicked up nervously to the burly woman.
“Please. I’m not trained or prepared either, and I’ll take any help I can get. I don’t want to die.”
What if Amalia was right, though? I didn’t know this woman.
She could hinder my chances. Then again, I didn’t know anything about how to survive.
Not to mention, Inka made a good point about taking turns sleeping.
The fact that I hadn’t even thought of that was proof enough that I couldn’t do this alone.
But what if she betrayed me? Or left me in the middle of the night while I was vulnerable in order to just save herself?
Although, I could do the same to her. It was a risk for both of us.
Regardless, there were more reasons than not. I’d have to take a chance if it kept me alive.
I blew out a breath. “Sure, we can work together.”
Then a thought occurred that had me glancing back to Amalia. I sat up a little straighter, staving off nausea as the boat rocked more roughly.
“Amalia, I know you said you wouldn’t help us out there on the island, but would you be willing to help us while we’re in here? Could you teach us a few things? Give us advice on how to survive?”
Amalia pursed her lips in thought for a few moments as her stare swept over the women who were watching her and waiting for an answer with hopeful eyes. Mine included.
Then she sighed. “No.”
My eyes widened, and my heart sank.
“Why in the hells not?” Natascha, a middle-aged, cranky woman, demanded. I’d heard her introduce herself to another woman a few minutes ago.
Amalia schooled her expression, glaring fiercely at Natascha. “Because it’s every woman for herself out there. My only concern is my survival. If the demons are occupied hunting down the easier targets, it gives me more time and opportunity.”
“You’re such a bitch…” someone else sneered.
“What is wrong with you?!” another exclaimed.
“Nothing is wrong with me,” Amalia spat.
“If the Hunt wasn’t a requirement, I wouldn’t be here at all.
But since someone had to be, I wasn’t going to let someone weaker be forced into it.
I’ve helped hundreds of women already by volunteering so they wouldn’t be forced to be here.
I’m not going to risk my chances of going home because none of you were prepared.
You act like this is my fault. I’m not your enemy.
They are.” She pointed to the ceiling, to the demons above.
The room fell quiet because, once again, she wasn’t wrong. But it didn’t make this right either.
“Yeah,” I whispered, and Amalia’s eyes flicked to meet mine. “But just because you aren’t our enemy, doesn’t mean you’re our ally either.”
No one spoke for a long while, tension and apprehension of what was to come filling the space—along with the sound of vomiting.
“So,” a woman spoke from the other end of the room.
I craned my neck to glance past the others between us so I could see her.
I flinched when I saw the elderly woman again, still appalled that someone her age was here.
Long grey hair framed her round face covered with wrinkles.
My soul hurt at the thought of her being voted for the Hunt.
There was no chance she would survive. Yet, she had a sweet smile on her face as everyone’s attention turned to her.
She cleared her throat. “Where are you all from?”
No one answered. And it wasn’t surprising because I knew what they were thinking: what’s the point? We were all about to die, so why get to know each other personally to make our deaths hurt that much more?
“If we’re all going to die together, we could at least learn about each other,” the old woman continued. “Give ourselves a distraction.”
I pulled my knees up to my chest, my damp skirt riding up my legs a bit. She seemed so kind, warm, and welcoming.
Maybe she’s the one who wants the distraction.
I opened my mouth to be the first to speak since no one else seemed to want to, but Inka beat me to it.
Everyone listened intently as she told us she was from Helmfer, a city near the center of Erdenvale. Funny, that’s where the healer was that I needed to take my mother to.
Inka went on to tell us that Helmfer’s city officials chose their female sacrifice based on their contribution.
They didn’t have community voting. They were just picked by a bunch of men, basing it all on numbers with parameters such as financial means and health.
Inka’s husband died in an accident at work.
She was unable to hold a job because of her disability; episodes of painful numbness, fatigue, and muscle weakness prevented her from having the physical capability to do work.
She had difficulty walking at times and had muscle spasms in her hands.
Without her husband’s income and support, she had come to rely on the city.
She had no family, no job, and no money.
It was a fucked up system, even more fucked up than Nillah’s. They took the weakest of their citizens and sent them into the lion’s den—or the demon’s island, I supposed.
“—less resources to be used on an already struggling and overpopulated city,” she said.
After Inka explained her story of how she came to be here, others took turns explaining theirs. It seemed most had some sort of voting system, like Nillah, choosing the weakest, the poorest, the criminals—the unwanted. It was all so sick and messed up.
“You all must be so terrified,” the elderly woman said with a frown pulling at her lips. “My name is Dita. I’m from Hythe. It’s a very small and isolated village at the southernmost tip of Erdenvale.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” I said with intrigue.
I loved learning about new, faraway places. I would dream of going on adventures and seeing sites beyond my imagination.
“No, you wouldn’t have. And we like it that way,” Dita chuckled. “Hythe is the most wonderful place with the greatest people. We all look out for each other.”
“Except when it comes to the Hunt.” Natascha rolled her eyes. “Every place seems great until this time of year.”
Dita smiled widely. “But that’s where you’re wrong. We also volunteer.”
I nearly gasped. “You chose to come? Like Amalia?”
“Well, we certainly don’t compete to send the strongest, but we do have volunteers like myself, in order to spare others.”
“Shouldn’t you have been one of the ones to be spared? Why did you volunteer?” Inka asked.
“Oh, no, dear. You see, I’ve lived a long and full life.
I don’t have much longer here anyway—likely not even a year.
So I would rather die sparing anyone else than wither away with guilt on my conscience.
This way, those who are younger can have more time with their loved ones.
It’s an odd system, I know. But it’s one that has worked for years, and our small community thrives because of it. ”
Wow. I take it back; that’s the system I wish Nillah had.
It was sad, still fucked up, but apparently worked for them.
There was a beat of silence. “Would you like to hear some stories? An old woman like me has plenty.” Dita huffed a laugh, and we all nodded our heads.
The distraction was nice. I thoroughly enjoyed hearing Dita tell stories about her experiences, adventures, and life in Hythe. It was almost like a dream. If I ever made it out of the Hunt alive—not that it was going to happen—I’d want to live in a place like that.
I lost myself to her history and tales, closing my eyes and imagining the magical village of Hythe. The rocking of the ship eventually lulled me into a peaceful sleep.
I had no idea how long I had slept, but an abrupt jolt woke me up, followed by gasps from the women around me. Thuds and shouts came from above, which had my pulse racing.
The ship was no longer cutting through the water, instead only gently swaying in the cradling waves of the sea.
I quickly sat up, muscles stiff from sleeping on the hard, splintered floor. Leaning against the post, Inka and I exchanged a worried glance. We practically held our breaths as we waited and waited. We all knew what was happening, but refused to speak of it.
I wasn’t sure how long we stayed like that; how long we trembled in anticipation. It could have been minutes or hours. But however long it was, it wasn’t long enough. I wasn’t ready.
The door at the top of the stairs on the far side of the room burst open, flooding the dark space with blinding light. There was a collective gasp from us as a figure stormed down the stairs.
A demon.
A mask covered his face. It was the first time I had ever had the chance to truly see it.
It was the color of ink, like the void between the stars in the night sky.
It was covered in strange patterns, like engravings of a language I wasn’t meant to understand.
The eyes were deep black pits that seemed to swallow any light around them, and the nose was sharp and ridged.
Where the mouth should have been, a deep red line was slashed across it—like a claw had dragged along the material.
A hooded cloak hung low on his head, casting the edges of his face in shadow and making it impossible to see anything human within him.
His low voice carried through the large room, and the pleasure lacing his tone sent a shiver down my spine.
“Welcome to the Wal of Two Tears. The Hunt is about to begin.”