Pure

A sharp scent invaded Finten’s sensitive nose, dragging him from the peaceful darkness.

Rough hands were unbuckling his sore wrists and dragging him off Alvie’s table. Pain raked across his back, but the wounds were closed already. The ability to heal quickly was a product of his Tarasque heritage.

Finten stumbled as he was shoved towards his pitiful little pile of clothing. “Get dressed, the presentation ceremony will be happening in a few minutes.”

Finten nodded dazedly, crouching down to scoop his shirt up. Alvie and her acolytes were gone already, probably preparing for the presentation ceremony themselves. It was only himself, Killian and the four soldiers left in the workroom. FInten pulled his clothes on with trembling hands. When he had finished bucking his belt, a flask was thrust towards him.

Finten looked up into Killian’s somber face. “Thank you,” he said as he gratefully took the flask, twisting the top off. Finten gulped the contents and it burned down his throat. Alcohol mixed with the poison of the wolf’s bane berry. The only thing that could get a tarasque drunk, if drunk in enough quantity. Killian had given him a flask every year Finten had gone through the presentation ceremony, and he was immensely grateful. It wasn’t enough to get him drunk, but it took the edge off his emotions, and was the only way Finten could force himself to get through the ceremony without causing his people even more harm.

Finten drained the flask to the last drop and handed it back to Killian. Killian screwed the cap shut, tucked the flask away in an inner pocket of his fine white uniform jacket, then he turned and led Finten out of Alvie’s workroom. The four soldiers arranged themselves around Finten again and they all made their way up to one of the rooms near the side door of the manor.

Three sixteen year old girls were waiting there, all bunched together like frightened lambs in their thin white presentation gowns. Finten forced his eyes to pass over them. Emer, Fiona, Soleil. All of the correct girls were there.

“You all have your gifts?” He asked gruffly.

The girls nodded, gesturing to the three piles of rich clothing on the little table that was pushed up against the wall. The girl’s fearful gazes returned to Finten, searching his face for comfort. Finten quickly looked away. He had no comfort to offer them.

“You remember what I told you? Be as obedient and emotionless as possible. Hadeaon thrives on toying with other people’s emotions. The less reaction you give him, the quicker this will all be over.”

One of the girls burst into tears. It was Fiona. Finten’s chest squeezed with anxiety for her.

“It’s time,” Killian said from the doorway.

Finten stepped up to Fiona and and leaned down to her eye level. “Save your tears for your mother, the wyrm will use them against you.”

She looked up at him, her tear filled eyes were blue. Finten squeezed his eyes shut and turned away. Caevah, can you ever forgive me for failing you and our people so badly. He turned back to the girls. “Help her. She can’t be like this when we get out there. Hadeaon will…she- she can’t be like this.”

Emer and Soleil, had already gathered close to the crying girl, wrapping their arms around her. Soleil was beginning to cry quietly as well. Emer glared up at Finten.

“You could show a little compassion, tarasque. We’re the ones who are being sacrificed to a monster for our people.” she spat.

Finten blinked at her. Her fiery spirit reminded him of Maigred. Maigred had caused him so much trouble the year she was sixteen. That had been the year after Caevah had died. The second presentation ceremony the town had gone through.

“Finten, we can’t keep our lord waiting,” Killian said sternly from the doorway.

Finten felt like couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. “Listen,” he said to the girls in a low voice. “This is unfair to you, this is wrong, but we only have two choices, die or give something of ourselves to this monster and live another day. There’s not a person in this town who hasn’t had to make this choice, except the children. We do this for them, for the future.

"Now, get your gifts and let’s go. Keeping Hadeaon waiting will not make this easier for any of you. If you have to cry, do it quietly.”

The girls obediently turned away to scoop up the tall piles of gifts then came back to Finten, all still huddled together. Fiona had quieted, but she was still crying.

“Lead on, Tarasque. We’re ready to be given as a sacrifice so that you can live in safety another day,” Emer said bitterly.

Finten opened his mouth, but nothing came out. What could he say? He was supposed to be the protector of this land and these people, and here he was leading their innocents to be sacrificed to the wyrm’s greed. He shut his mouth, turned and followed Killian out of the room, out the side door; the four soldiers surrounding him and the girls. As if they could stop Finten if he decided to attack the wyrm. The soldiers were only human and Finten could have torn through them like tissue paper if he wanted to.

They came around the corner of the manor, and faced the town square full of people. Finten’s heart squeezed again. The square had never been this silent when Caevah had ruled. There was always some sort of excitement going on in those days, even if it was just Finten and his men playing a rowdy game of football, but now it was deadly silent even with every person in town being gathered there for the presentation ceremony. Finten could hear Hadeaon’s white flags snapping in the wind. He could feel the eyes of his people on him. He took a shaky breath.

The people of this town had welcomed him when he had been nothing but a wild boy that Caevah had found and led home. They had shared their homes with him and made him their own. They had trusted him to keep them and their families safe.

Caevah, how can you ever forgive me? The world swam as his eyes filled with tears.

Finten followed Killian down the pathway that had been left open down the center of the crowd. It led to the raised platform where Hadeaon waited for them, a smirk on his beautiful, proud face. A small enclosed pavilion was on the platform behind Hadeaon, waiting to swallow the girls one by one. Alvie and all four of her acolytes were on the platform as well, kneeling on both sides of Hadeaon, ready to serve their chosen lord.

Finten fisted his trembling hands. Gods, hear me. Protect the girls. Let Hadeaon be gentle. Allow the girls to return to their families afterward. Let this all be over quickly. Please let nothing else happen today. He prayed, hoping that the gods would listen if only for the girls’ sake. He knew he had no favor with them anymore.

Finten’s men were kneeling in the dust at the very front of the crowd, between the people and the platform. The sight of them there comforted Finten’s aching heart. They could have renounced their loyalty to him when Hadeaon had given them the choice to join his ranks, but they hadn’t. They had decided to remain faithful to their oaths. They had born the punishment of their choice with quiet dignity in the thirteen years that had passed since that day. Finten would never be able to repay their kindness. If it wasn’t for their fidelity and companionship, Finten was sure his heart would have failed him years ago.

They had finally made it to the foot of the platform. Killian bowed. “I’ve brought you the tributes, my lord.”