The people watching scuttered back, shuffling their feet loudly as gasps rang out.

“Duskwalker,” Gilford greeted brightly with a deep-seated tone of respect, skilfully hiding any fear or disgust he must have held. He placed one arm over his stomach while the other rose into the air behind him as he bowed. “It is an honour to greet you.”

The Duskwalker gave no response as he walked closer and closer, getting taller and taller, until he paused just in front of the chief. His wolven companions slowly walked in behind him, silent, as if they weren’t there, despite their muzzles being pulled back as if they were ferociously growling.

Reia’s eyes moved from the bottom of his closed black cloak, all the way to his skull face, and then finally settled on the Impala antelope horns protruding through his hood.

The area became so silent she could hear the wind, and she thought she could almost hear the stammering hearts of all the people who were here to bear witness.

The anxious smacking of the chief’s lips was loud after he swallowed what must have been an uncertain lump in his throat. The only reason they knew the Duskwalker was

staring at him – since his glowing orbs didn’t show where he was truly looking – was because his skull head was pointed down in his direction.

Gilford stood at least a foot shorter than him and had to crane his neck to meet his stare head on when he unfurled himself from his bow.

“Ah, I am sure you are wary of who I am. Please, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Gilford Borilette. I am the new chief since Clement died twelve summers ago, and I know you visited one of the other villages last time you emerged from the Veil.”

“You humans die so quickly,” the Duskwalker said, his voice deep and dark, and surprisingly, quite smooth. That wasn’t why most, including Reia, gasped. It was because he spoke without opening the jaws of his skull. “I grow tired of learning all your names. You will most likely be dead the next time I come here.”

Gilford visibly flinched at the coldness of the Duskwalker’s words.

“Well—”

“I have little care nor time. It is a long way home. Where is my offering so that I may leave?”

His head turned up, easily seeing over the short man to stare directly at Reia in her obvious white cloak and wedding dress. Her back instinctually stiffened under his scrutiny, yet she lifted her chin confidently.

“Ah, yes. The willing sacrifice as payment for a protection ward against the Demons.” Gilford stepped out of the way, waving his hand to the side so that Reia could be presented fully. “Pure and knowing of her future.”

The hounds remained where they were as the Duskwalker stepped forward to approach her. His footsteps crunched in the dirt but were light despite his heavy-looking frame. He dipped his bony skull down to her just under a metre away, and she slowly lifted her chin to glare up at him through her lashes.

Reia expected the smell of blood or the rot of decay to waft from him like some Demons produced. She expected him to smell of death.

Surprisingly, he smelled of smoking mahogany wood and... pine.

That did little to ease her, although it was welcome in comparison. Her lips tightened as he looked down, casting a large, looming shadow over her.

It gave her a sense of foreboding – like she may never see the light again past this day.

Once more, a hush fell over the area. The air felt stagnant like the world was holding its breath as much as the humans who were desperate for her to be taken away.

The glowing orbs of his eyes, which hovered in front of the voids of its sockets, swirled almost like rotating fire. His skull was clean and appeared as though it was polished as the sunlight hit over the white of it and made it glisten.

I thought it would be cream-coloured. Or that, perhaps, the flesh of a rotting animal might be loosely hanging from it like a decaying corpse.

“What is your name?” he finally asked, quiet despite how close they were.

Shit. How am I supposed to give my name if I am not allowed to talk? Hell, the people didn’t even utter her name.

How was she supposed to violate two things they feared without upsetting them?

Reia gave a sneering cringe, unsure of what she was supposed to do. No one had given her advice or told her what she should do if he spoke to her.

Shuffling her feet nervously, her eyes fell to the chief.

“Speak, child!” Gilford shouted, his face growing red with anger. Reia was making a mess of this already.

It was too late. The Duskwalker’s hand shot forward.

She managed to catch a glimpse of the dark, glistening claws that ripped through his black gloves before his hand encircled her throat. She expected him to lift her off the

ground, but he only brought her to the tips of her toes. The pressure was tight but wasn’t suffocating as he bent forward to be more at her level.

“Reia,” she managed to get out, calming enough to narrow her eyes into a glare once more. “My name is Reia Salvias.”

Orpheus twisted his head at the petite little human he held onto, inspecting her face in detail now that they were inches apart and she couldn’t escape.

Yes. It is much easier to see her like this. She was too far away before, too hard for him to look at bony face to human face.

He was unable to smell her properly since he’d shoved mud and grass into his nose hole to block as much of the scent of fear as he could. It was uncomfortable, and he despised it, but he needed to do this otherwise he would attack the village in a mindless craze because of their stench of fear.

Her hair was blonde, straight and glossy around the backs of his gloved fingers. Her nose was small, but had a defiant upturn to it, which made it appear more dismissive when she’d turned her chin up at him earlier. Her features were gentle around her jaw and chin, but were sharp around her eyes and brows, making her glare, he realised, more prominent.

Her skin was like snow, as though she hadn’t been in the sun much, which he could tell was true by the transparent-

like paleness of her skin. If he took her to the Veil, he doubted her skin would ever ripen into the light golden that should have wrapped the warm meat of her slim body.

Her eyes were a forestry green, which pleased him.

Actually, looking upon her was pleasing, but he felt this way about most humans, for various reasons, some more evil and cruel than others.

As he inspected his sacrifice in detail, Orpheus waited for the tantalizing scent of fear to fill his mouth with saliva. He was so close to her. He would be able to taste just a hint of it that his blocked, clogged nose couldn’t. He could only just smell her with their proximity, but it hid the rest of the humans from him.

It didn’t take long. The scent gently lifted into the air from her pores, inciting the glow of his eyes to want to change from his normal blue to red in hunger.

But that didn’t happen, his eyes remained blue.

He tilted his head when he realised the scent wasn’t strong enough to stir true hunger in him.

This female, this human woman, was afraid, but not nearly as much as she should have been while being held like this by him. She appears rather... angry.

“If-if she is not to your liking, we have prepared other sacrifices to become your bride,” the one named Gilford sputtered in haste.

There are others? He lowered her enough that she was no longer blocking his vision, as two humans in white dresses were ushered through the Priests and Priestesses.

A dark-haired man and a red-headed woman.