CONTENT WARNINGS: Tentacles, multiple partners, Mpreg/eggs
"Surely the lord won't require a sacrifice this year," one of the women near Pascal whispered to her companion as she clutched her blouse at the chest. "The monsters haven't shown up in years."
"Because of the last sacrifice," her companion warned, "so we have to give them another. It's almost been ten years since then."
The woman rubbed her companion's arm. "The last sacrifice— she was your older sister, wasn't she? She drew the lot."
Her companion nodded and dropped her eyes. "Yes. I— I hate that I could do nothing...."
"You were only twelve. Who could have expected you to do anything?"
The gavel of Mayor Jean hitting the podium three times ended the muttered conversations around him. Pascal swallowed and brushed his ginger curls from his amber eyes.
"Thank you all for coming," the mayor began, "as we choose a volunteer to calm the beasts of the forest. As many of you know, our ancestors fled war and persecution. When they came upon this place and settled, they knew not of the beasts in the forest or the monstrosity deep within. When faced with their destruction, our ancestors struck a deal with that monstrosity: protection and prosperity in exchange for one of our own. It is now time to renew the agreement, to keep our people safe and protected. Whoever is chosen will receive instructions and venture into the forest alone."
Mutterings resurfaced as those on the town square's stage prepared the lots from the box. All adults not married or with children were expected to draw a lot. The cube was spelled to prevent tampering by the lord's pet warlock.
From where Pascal stood, he could see the lord and the warlock speaking with the mayor and his secretary. The warlock - Pascal's twin, Senka - barely acknowledged Mayor Jean or his secretary Anton, but nodded his ginger head along to the lord's words. Finally, Lord Claude turned to the crowd, and everyone quieted.
"Those who fit the requirements, please step forward."
Swallowing hard, Pascal twisted his shirt in his fists. His legs wouldn't move. But several around him started forward—and he couldn't be the only one who didn't. Careful not to jostle anyone, Pascal ducked his head and made his way to the front of the crowd. This time, over a dozen adults had no partner and no children to care for. Senka was the only exception to the drawing; magic talent was rare enough, and no one was willing to risk losing someone with that necessary resource.
Senka quickly counted those who would draw lots and muttered over the box. A brief flash of purple light and the warlock nodded. "Ready, sir."
The lord nodded. "Your sacrifice is for the good of your neighbor, your family, your people. Your name will be remembered. Know this as you draw your lot. Make a line and come forward one at a time."
The first who moved was a tall, muscular young man called Jonathan; though he was courting a young woman named Elsie, they had not yet made any vows. Both stood together with the crowd; both would draw lots. They squeezed hands and advanced to the stairs. Jonathan went first, pulling his lot and showing a blank slip. He left the stage on the other side and waited as his love drew her lot—another blank.
Another blank. And another. Until Pascal and two others were left.
The young man—Cal the baker's son—in front of Pascal drew a blank, relief evident on his face. The woman behind Pascal, Annie the apprentice seamstress, fidgeted her dye-stained hands, fear and anxiety clear in her body language.
Taking a deep breath and trying not to show his own fear, Pascal took the stage and strode to the box. Senka watched him out of amber eyes that matched his own but said nothing; he could not be seen as trying to save his own family.
