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The guards of the lady gathered around the stone in the middle of the room. They put their weapons on the floor and knelt down. Their eyes were closed, as if they were sleeping or meditating, as if they had a private conversation with their goddess. The lady herself approached the altar and stepped on it. She sat down on it – no, she almost lay down on it and looked at the women that were with her expectantly. One of them nodded and rose to her feet again. She walked over to the table and took a few of the knives. She knelt down and presented them to her mistress. The young noblewoman looked at them for a moment and frowned, but then she picked a knife, a long, silver knife with an ebony handle. Her fingers ran across the silver surface lovingly. It was so sharp that it draw blood. The woman did not mind that at all. On the contrary – she smiled. With a brief movement of her hand she signalled the guard to take the other knives away and assume her position to the side of the altar again. The guard complied.
It was then that the back door was opened. Three male vysstichi, servants of the temple, dressed in black and red just like the priestesses entered. They had two prisoners with them: The first was a young man of not more than eighty patterns with white hair that came down to his waist. His eyes were a pure silver, a color that was rare among the children of Haya. His body was perfect. There was not a single scar, not a single imperfection. He did not have the ageless look that so many older elves possessed yet. He was young, and it was showing – but he already had the grace that was common among his kind. They had dressed him in a simple black robe, but his feet had been left bare. His hands were tied with a heavy chain, a safety measure in case he decided to try and escape. He looked completely calm and composed, as if he had expected that this would happen all along, as if he almost considered it an honor. And the servants? They did not seem to care at all that one of their kind would die.
The second prisoner was a human girl of about sixteen, dark eyed and black haired like most of the Vortexians. She was slender, almost to the point of looking thin and undernourished, but apart from that she looked perfect. Her skin was white, almost like snow. She had been dressed in a red robe that stood in contrast to the man’s black one. She was not calm at all. Olvann could hear her screams. “No ... please ... don’t ... I’ll be a good slave ... I’ll never do this again ...” She stared at the woman that was sitting in the middle of the room wide eyed. The daughter of House Chaos Dawn just smiled at her. The young woman turned around, she was about to run, but the chains kept her from making more than one or two steps, and in the end the servant that held her chain just pulled her closer again.
“I want the man first”, the lady decided, and the servant pushed him towards her. “He will be a fitting sacrifice for the goddess. Watch the girl in the meantime, and make sure she doesn’t scream and disturb the ceremony. Haya would not be pleased at all!” Olvann in the meantime remained undisturbed. The many people in the room had not detected him yet – or they just didn’t care that he was there.
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