I scarcely remember her face. We were too young when they took her away from me. But I do remember her crying, shouting at them fiercely like a wild wounded animal. I couldn’t stop them. They had tied me up and forced me to watch.
They were three: all of them in thick black clothes; all of them blond and pale. The leader wrapped his hands around her wrists tightly to the point of making her scream for mercy. The youngest put a knife to her throat, looking at her with sickly desire. The cold blade made its way downwards, stroking her skin tenderly before desecrating it.
The blood started to spill when the iron penetrated the flesh. Small reddish drops coloured her white skin, making her look like a mythological sacrificed virgin. The one who had been quiet until then stared at me with anxiety. He wasn’t enjoying the ceremony, but he hadn’t tried to do anything to stop his friends either. He was as coward as I, both of us incapable of taking charge of the situation; both of us letting an innocent soul burned in hell.
The leader held her tighter when the guy of the knife crossed her heart with it. She didn’t resist anymore, being aware that the end was close. Only when the heavy scarlet liquid soaked her white clothes the leader released her arms, which fell lifeless onto the table. He made a sign to his brothers and immediately the three of them knelt before my already sister’s bloodless body with reverence.
My blood turned to ice when I discovered what was going on. They were selling her blood to the old Gods in exchange of an ensured victory in the battlefield, but they had disregarded one tiny detail: my sister wasn’t a virgin, and the old Gods would become angry when they found it out.
Tears rolled down my face when I realized my sister’s death had been in vain. But the worst of all this situation was that they were about to discover that there was still a virgin in the room…