Kada had never gone outside before.
In their dark little haven, no one in his family, his town, no one - had ever thought of leaving. It was safe, and they still had to fight off the monsters that tried to invade their home.
But then, one day, a young girl - an adventurous one, he knew - came back pale-faced and shaking.
"There are gods outside this town." She had said, near tears. "There are gods above us."
She'd described massive, terrifying beings, shrouded with light from some... godly creation. She'd been sure that she'd accidentally broken into their home.
Not a day later, a non-believer, a young man, came back, just as pale and terrified, waving his hands erratically and gasping out stories of their shadowed faces, striking eyes, and their strange, foreign devices that glowed and flashed.
"They saw me," The man had sobbed, "and they know we have not been giving them any offerings."
The council was unsure, but knew that to anger a deity, even one that they may not believe in, could be dangerous.
Better to be safe, then sorry.
"We must give the gods an offering." They had announced. Many of the council members had pained looks in their faces.
"The offering... of a life."
There had been an uproar, panic, chaos. But everyone knew, deep down, that if they did not comply, the gods would surely kill them all.
So they decided to sacrifice the one who could not speak, could no longer.
Kada.
Kada, who had struggled and whimpered and cried, who could not retaliate, who could not resist, was prepared in a simple leather suit, and doused with garnish and sauces and spices. The ladies that prepared him were tearful and sad, sniffling as they apologized over and over again.
"I'm so sorry, Kada." They bemoaned, sprinkling pepper across his chest with shaking fingers. "But it must be done."
Kada thought that they'd never forgive themselves.
There had been a ceremony, to bid farewell to the poor boy. There had been terrible sobbing and hiccups and crying, and Kada couldn't help but join in, letting tears silently trailed down his sugar-coated cheeks.
They'd hauled him up through winding passageways and dark, foreboding tunnels, before they stepped out into a blinding, bright area.
Kada couldn't help but be amazed. It was as if a massive candle had lit every corner of the room, and the entire place was bathed in golden light. He saw the strange structures that towered above him, and felt a faint wind blow past his face.
Truly a palace fit for a god.
They had tied him to a small pole, secured to the massive tabletop, and with sad eyes and low voices, bid him farewell, and left.
Kada did not fight. He did not scream, or try to escape, or any of that sort.
He simply knelt there, in that expansive table, littered with foreign, novel, and simply enormous items, letting new tears overlap the dried, hot ones.
He felt the sugary powder on his face become a sticky mess, small flecks of pepper drift down from his shirt. He felt the fancy sauce drip from his ankles, and onto the clean tabletop.
Kada was certainly a very well-prepared offering.
So he sat there, eyes closed, and waiting for the god to receive their first - and most likely not last - offering, from his people.
