Lillian

A full moon rose behind the clouds on a dark night; on the night of her birthday. A sign of good luck, at least for her people. For her, it meant only one thing, death. She was a goddess, a princess, and a priestess to her people, and tonight she was told to die. To save her people, of course. Her name is Lillian and she is a nymph.

When you visualize a nymph, don’t assume they are short green women with pointed ears. The only truth to that rumor is the pointed ears. Adorning her head was a long mane of gold-white hair that flew freely down her back and ended at her thighs. Her pointed ears stuck out ever so slightly, giving her childish face a more adult look. She was only the age of sixteen, but her eyes gave her a majestic look far beyond her years. Her knowledge of the world and its creatures was great, but was put to no use. Tonight, on the eve of her seventieth birthday, she was to be sacrificed. Ironically, the sacrifice would be made by her own father.

As the moonlight pooled around her slender form, it caught a shimmer from the simple white dress she worse. It trailed behind her as she walked down an isle, almost like a wedding. But she would never see her wedding day. Nor would she have a husband or children to live the rest of her life with. No, tonight was her last night as a mortal. After this night, she would live as a goddess in the heavens. Her duty, to protect her village and watch over them forever.

The smell of wine was heavy at the ceremony; the wine’s symbol was a form of life. The red stood for the blood that had to be shed, and giving it to everyone would keep them all safe forever. White rose peddles were placed along the isle, meant to guide her safely to the heavens. And finally, a bright blue marble hung from a gold chain that settled at her neck, giving her the power to keep them all safe once she was a goddess. She would carry their lives with her forever.

She reached an altar where a man dressed in a long, white robe stood. He held a hint of sadness in his eyes as he watched his daughter walk to her death. But he reminded himself…it was for the clan and would assure them safety for the rest of their lives. Yes, he loved his daughter, but, to save the life of his daughter or save the life of his whole village? He had to save the village; it held life and the survival of their race. In giving her pure life to the gods, it would assure the village everything it needs to survive. And he had no say in the matter, the village had decided upon it.

Always as a child she had been given certain things that no other could receive. In a way, you could say she was spoiled, but it was all to build up to this moment. Her life was all built up to dying and to her that was not a life at all. But, she was loyal to her village and would remain loyal for thousands of years to come.

Coming to a halt at the altar, Lillian stared into her father’s eyes and he into hers. They shared an unseen bond, and they had ever since her mother had died in a fire when she was only three. He used his eyes to plead with her, to beg her to forgive him for the task he was about to do. She nodded in response, trying to comfort him and tell him…this was the way it had to be.

A priest-like figure came to the altar, dressed in the same white robes as Lillian’s father. He carried a dagger on a cushioned, blood-red pillow; the blade shimmered with every movement he made. The village surrounded the altar, wanting to see the ceremony that would free them all from misery. Hesitantly, Rubon, Lillian’s father, grasped the dagger firmly in his hand. He then turned to his daughter with a stone face. She smiled thinly and felt a light breeze ruffle her hair. Behind the two, the priest put his hands together so they formed a symbol, and then began to chant. The village was deathly quiet, straining to hear every murmured word the priest said. Slowly, Lillian made a similar symbol with her own hands and also began to chant.

The breeze picked up a little and the village swayed along with it unconsciously. Rubon’s grip on the dagger tightened and his knuckled turned white, but he waited until his moment. Until the moment when he would be forced to murder his own child.

Suddenly, the wind picked up and blew out all of the candles that surrounded the altar, leaving them all in a dark shadow. The priest’s words became softer and softer then faded completely into the wind. Lillian, however, kept her hands in place and spoke stronger and stronger with every passing minute. Her hair played and danced around her like little whips, striking her shoulders and her face, but she continued her chant. Rubon, noticing his moment, brought the dagger up above his hand and held it with both hands, but paused. The crowd chanted for him to continue, to do the deed, but then they hushed as they saw Lillian and what was happening around her.

MOOOAHAHA! New storeh! That probably isn’t a good thing but I wanted to write something new and I have a drawing that goes with it. ;;