She stared at the people around her in horror. This year was the year that they selected a bride for the god of Mount Felivelle. It was more accurate to say that they were selecting a sacrifice. No one had ever seen the fire deity, but it was widely known that he lived in the volcano near the village.
Every ten years they sacrificed a woman from the village to appease the wrath of a being Aurora wasn't even sure existed. She'd been orphaned at a young age, her parents dying in what they'd said was a carriage accident. Naturally the selfish people of the village offered her up to save their own daughters. Nothing like throwing an orphan to their death to show appreciation for the back breaking labor you've helped with over the years, she couldn't help but think bitterly.
She sat on the ground, legs collapsed under the weight of her dismay. The crowd dispersed, save for two boys the same age as her. One stared on with shame and anxiety, the other bore a vicious sneer.
"At least you'll finally be useful to the village," the hauty boy chuckled, kicking dirt at her. "Half blood filth."
"I tried to argue," the softer boy murmured as the other strutted away. He reached down and offered her his hand. With trembling fingers, she gratefully let him pull her to her feet.
"I know Sandor, you're the only one I can count on."