REVOLUTION: A Rebel Among Monsters ✔

Nine••The Ceremony

"As I understand, your parents have... already been through this, with your sister." Wylan hesitated, eyes creasing. "Valnia, right? I assume you were too young to recall the formalities. So... I'm here to answer your questions, any within my knowledge." His timbre was pleasing to the ear, but all Melaynia heard were screeching seagulls.

Where's the exit? How do I stop my death? What do you know about Valnia? Why were we chosen?

"Will... will it hurt?"

Wylan squeezed his eyes shut, pondering his response. "No. You'll have no pain, I guarantee it." A slice of calm and serenity emanated from his aura, and Melaynia nearly growled at him.

Don't be cute—my life is ending, you jerk.

He appeared so young beneath that mask, not much older than she was. "Are you qualified for this job?" She couldn't help herself, and though she cringed at her immaturity, it was too late.

Tomus and Valeyria looked up from their paperwork and scowled. "I swear, we raised her better than this," said Tomus, glaring in her direction before flashing a weak smile at Wylan.

"Don't worry." Wylan's grin was obvious in his speech. "It's a common question among Sacrificed Ones. I bet Valnia asked it, too. I sound young, but I'm not. I'm not allowed to disclose my age. No Attendant ever is."

Melaynia frowned. His continuous mentioning of her sister by name irked her. He spoke like he knew her, or understood more of her than he claimed.

She huffed. "What happens... after? After... death, where... where do I go?"

Wylan' eyes showed nothing, no sadness or concern or knowledge. "I can't answer that. You're welcome to ask the Monsters when you meet them. It's custom for them to grant questions to their Sacrificed Ones before they... uh... eat." He wriggled in his seat, disturbed.

She'd receive answers. Maybe a slither of time to plan an escape... to disappear before they ate her.

Maybe... I don't need to die.

Wylan cleared his throat. "If you're out of questions, I'll detail tomorrow's schedule for you." He pulled a sheet of paper from the stack he had given the Royas.

Shaking from her reverie—she had been going over ways to dodge the Attendants—Melaynia shifted in her seat. "Oh... yeah, sure."

"Great. So, tomorrow, I'll come get you early and take you through the secret tunnels to the Sacrificial Place. There, we'll prepare you in a special chamber, and lead you onto the platform for the proceedings. After that, when we take you Underground. You must keep your eyes shut. We'll blindfold you, but some claimed the material is a bit transparent, and we can't allow you to identify your surroundings."

She was going to die. Or so they believed. Why wouldn't they let her visualize the Lair where those who sentenced her to death rested? It put a damper on her plans, but she still had all night to work a way around it. "Okay, sounds easy enough."

"Make sure you spend time with your parents, because you won't have long in the morning for your final goodbyes." The Attendant scooched out of the booth and stood, extending a hand to shake Melaynia's. "Your sacrifice is appreciated, Melaynia, and I promise, it'll all be over fast."

She accepted his gloved palm, surprised at how warm it was, and a tiny twinge of electricity passed between them. She jolted into her seat, heart racing as he turned to her parents.

"I'll leave you be," he said, gathering the paperwork. "Thank you for allowing me to sit with you. And should you require any counseling, please contact us." He shook their hands and, after a brief glance at Melaynia—full of sympathy, she presumed—he sauntered out of the restaurant.