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CHAPTER 1
~ Raine ~
Sweatclungtomyskin as I stared at the target, a crudely forged blade in my hand. Seconds. That was all I allowed myself to make sure the aim was right, and then the knife was slicing through the air, spinning until it landed with athuck, burying into the tree trunk I’d selected.
Launching forward, I pulled more blades from my leather pockets as I sprinted in a circle, the wind tugging at my long ponytail. More thuds sounded as my knives sank into the other trees lining the clearing—my makeshift monsters, though I knew they were nothing like the real beings.
I was panting by the time I reached into my last pocket and discovered it was empty. Coming to a halt, I forced my breathing to calm and inspected where my blades had landed. I imagined the steel protruded from real monster flesh, but it was hard when I’d never actuallyseenone of the Katakin.Head. Chest. Neck. Arm. And…I tilted my head to the side, trying to decide on the position of the lowest blade. “Groin,”I finally muttered to myself with a smirk.I couldn’t be sure that stabbing male monsters in the groin would have the same effect as it would on a man, but either way, I was betting it would hurt like a bitch.Perfect.
Striding over, I collected my blades for the dozenth time and stared up at the sky.Fuck.I’d been out for too long. Pink had begun to stain the blue, the colors melding above my head.Time’s up, Raine. Get your ass moving.The Night of the Offering was here, and monsters didn’t wait. I took off at a sprint through the trees.
ChiefShaasistoodinthe middle of the clearing, firelight from her bamboo torch flickering on her skeletal face. My gaze swept across the area, and I continued forward, relieved that the last shadows of twilight were only just starting to disappear from the trees and the clearing was still empty of monsters.
Adding on to the end of the long line of villagers that stretched from one side of the clearing to the other, I ignored Chief Shaasi’s glare. I knew why she was cranky, but really, I was chuffed. For a moment there, I hadn’t thought I would make it. I’d barely had enough time to race back to my cottage, wipe off the sweat, change, and then I’d run here, twigs scratching my bare feet and fire burning in my lungs.
Pulling my hair from its ponytail, I hastily combed my fingers through my long dark waves, only to have one of my fingers get caught in a knot. Ripping through the knot, I forced the hair to loosen, pulling out a few strands in the process. My eyes began to water, but I blinked the pain away.
A low snicker sounded from someone further along the line, but I didn’t bother to see who it had come from.
My attention went back to Chief Shaasi as she raised her wrinkled chin and began to speak, her shrill voice grating against my ears. “Daughters of the Goddess, Falia, ten years have passed, and the Night of the Offering is once again upon us. You know what it means to be here. What’s at stake. Remember, it is an honor to be chosen as an offering to ensure the safety of your people, and your name will be remembered for all time on the Stone of Shetan.”
Chief Shaasi lifted her gaze to the top of Mount Traie, the tallest mountain on our island, where a huge slab of stone stood watching over us, its body etched with the names of those we’d already lost. She made it sound like an honor to have our names carved there, but really, the thing was a giant tombstone that loomed over us all—a constant reminder we could never escape our fates.
I thought of where I’d added Cara’s name at the top of the stone. I’d been ten when I’d carved it, and the letters were more like an angry scrawl. Sadness mixed with anger bloomed inside me, but I knew the anger was mostly at myself. It was my fault my sister had been taken.You’ll find her. Even if it’s the last thing you do.
“Remember to stand tall, but don’t look them in the eye, or they might see it as a challenge,” the old crone continued. “If the Katakin wanted, they could wipe us from this island. We can’t jeopardize the agreement between us, or we will all be lost. Your families and friends, brothers and sisters.”
She paused, and her face became grave. “If you try to flee, you will have forsaken your people. You and your family will be banished from the island, doomed to die a watery death. And that’s if the Katakin don’t catch you first.”
I rolled my neck as a chill night wind swept through the forest, fluttering the leaves of the nearby trees. A part of me appreciated how direct she was. What was the point of pretending this was going to turn out all right? If you were picked, you were fucked.
Either you were taken as an offering for the monsters and tortured for the remainder of your days, however long that was, or you were disgraced by the village and condemned with your family—all banished from the island. Which was also a death sentence.
The art of boat making had been lost to us years ago, and we only had a handful of rowboats remaining, which we used to go fishing in the shallows around our island. Those who went further out to sea never returned.
No one knew whether there was anything else out there, but with the frequent lightning storms crackling over the water every few nights, we all assumed the villagers who left the island died. If safe passage to a new land had been possible, we’d all have moved away by now.
That was not to say I hated it on the island. It was actually really beautiful. The air was always sweet with the smell of coconuts and summer fruits, waterfalls ran down from the mountains, and the ground and sea were fertile, so we never had to worry about starving. It was just unfortunate we were all stuck in this endless cycle of offerings to the Katakin monsters.
Chief Shaasi walked along our line, her back hunched and a twisted walking stick in her right hand. There were forty of us for the monsters to choose from this time. Forty young souls between the ages of eighteen and twenty-eight.
There were more of us between those ages, but they were exempt—either they were men (the monsters only requested females), or they were sisters of someone already in the lineup. For every eligible household with women aged between eighteen and twenty-eight, at least one woman had to participate in the Night of the Offering. If a household had more than one woman who was of selection age, only one had to participate.
Two hundred years ago, when the monster king and his warriors had first arrived, the king had been clear with his demand. Provide him with twelve beautiful women between the ages of eighteen and twenty-eight every ten years. If we couldn’t deliver, he and his monsters would destroy us all. No one knew why the monster king had made an agreement with our ancestors at all, but I suspected they had to have some purpose for us. Some reason they needed fresh humans every ten years.
I peered at the long line of women standing next to me, ready to be sacrificed like animals waiting for slaughter. Tonight, twelve of us would be taken to become the playthings of monsters.
Or at least, that was what the elders said. No one who went with the monsters into the mouth of Procus, the massive cave that stared eerily at me from the other side of the clearing, ever came back.
For all we knew, those chosen were killed instantly. It was anyone’s guess. Some of the villagers would say that sometimes for the weeks after the offering, they could hear screams when they went near the cave mouth, hence the rumor about them being tortured. I didn’t know if this was true. I’d slept by the cave mouth for days after Cara had been taken, and I’d never heard a thing.
All we knew for sure was that twelve of us were offered up all so the rest of the villagers on the island could live…for another ten years. Until another offering. If one could call that living.Goddess, the idea made me want to stab something.
Chief Shaasi passed the first few in our line, pausing every now and then to chastise someone’s clothing or tell them to fix their hair, even though everyone looked immaculate in garments far nicer than anything they’d ever owned. Apparently, soon after the offerings started all those years ago, some women had turned up to the Night of the Offering looking disheveled in the hopes it would decrease their chances of being chosen. The monsters had been insulted and enraged, and as punishment, they’d selected the twelve women they’d deemed acceptable and slaughtered the rest.
Now the whole village came together to make the garments for the Night of the Offering, and even I had to admit my own dress was spectacular. Like the material of the other women’s garments, it was white, as supple as silk, and without a speck of dirt to be seen. White. The color of surrender and submission.
Bile rose in my throat, and I took a steadying breath, all too aware of the sweat beading on my brow. I couldn’t lose my nerve now. I was the only insane person in this lineup who actuallywantedto be chosen. No, correction, Ihadto be chosen. Only the most beautiful were selected, so there was the risk that I wouldn’t be one of the twelve, but I was pretty enough, I hoped.
