All For Honor

CHAPTER 1

I had always envisioned a happy future—one where I fell in love, settled down, and eventually raised a family of my own. I would like to have experienced the joy of watching my children grow up, celebrating every milestone until one day, they, too, began families of their own. I had hoped to savor the fullness of life and every pleasure humanity had to offer. Then when my time came, I would slip away peacefully in my sleep, old and gray, surrounded by my loved ones.

Unfortunately, those dreams had been stolen from me. To die a martyr for a decision that my ancestors made was never the ending I had wanted. Yet now, it was my fate.

I should feel honored, or so my mother and father kept telling me, their tears and forced smiles betraying their words. Only four girls are chosen every ten years—four girls to represent the innocence of our people and to serve as the price for peace. It is only for them that the monsters stay at bay. For a day, they are to be treated like royalty—a fleeting honor that is the highest praise a girl like me could ever receive.

I sat alone in my small bedroom—a room I once shared with my eldest sister—gazing at my reflection in the mirror above our dresser. The summer months had left their mark on me. My dark hair, lovingly touched by the sun, glowed with auburn highlights, warm and red even in the dim light. My once pale skin now shimmered with a golden tan. I looked pretty—nothing extraordinary, but pretty enough.

"Renata?" A gentle voice drifted in through my bedroom door, pulling me from my daydreams.

I looked up to find my grandmother. She wore a soft smile, though it carried a hint of sorrow in her eyes. "Oh, Renata, you look beautiful, my dear," she said, extending her hand to caress my cheek. Her cool touch soothing against my skin. "My beautiful grandbaby."

A rush of warmth spread across my cheeks at her words. "Thank you," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

She dipped her head in a solemn nod, "It is time. Festivities are beginning. You must get dressed, dear."

I turned my gaze to the gown draped over my bed, a vision of ethereal beauty crafted from soft ivory satin and delicate chiffon that promised to billow gracefully with every step. It lay there in striking contrast to the worn and broken walls of our home. The dress itself was likely worth more than the entirety of my belongings. I swallowed.

As I approached the gown, my heart raced with a feeling that I could only describe as a mix of anticipation and dread. The fabric was cool and silky beneath my fingertips. A dress of such beauty would've once thrilled me. My mind flashed to the other girls chosen alongside me. Each would be wearing a white dress as exquisite as this, each preparing to face their own uncertain fate. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my thoughts, but the weight of what lay ahead pressed heavily on my chest.

The white dress, a symbol of beauty and honor, was also a symbol of the sacrifice we were to make—a sacrifice for the land, for the old treaty that bound us. With trembling hands, I slipped into the gown. The fabric enveloped me like a fragile promise.

As I fastened the delicate clasps at the back, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror—a vision I hardly recognized. The dress transformed me, framing my figure in a way that felt unknown. With a final touch of my fingers along the embroidered hem, I stepped away from the mirror, leaving behind the girl who had once known nothing of this burden.

As I walked towards the door, I took in my home for the last time. The hall my sister and I used to play in, the table where we'd share family dinners every night. I would miss all of this.

My cat sauntered over, weaving between my legs, his soothing purr resonating in the quiet room. I crouched down to offer him a few final, gentle strokes. "I'm going to miss you," I murmured softly. He tilted his head, his wide feline eyes meeting mine, and blinked slowly before responding with a soft, mournful meow, as if to offer his own comfort.