Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Every town has its secrets—some small and insignificant, and most large. Life ruining. Reality altering. 

Most travelers wouldn’t know it, nor was it possible for them to understand. The people of your village all have varying stories, recounting different events and places in time when this deal went down, but they ultimately end the same. The founder of your town made a pact with the Devil, they say, for eternal success. Your village at this point suffered from a lack of rainfall and mysterious salted soil. It was as if a divine being had punished you all. Some recall the founder as a gentleman who would do whatever he could to make the people of Eoghan happy, including selling his soul. Others recalled him as a disgusting vermin who would stop at nothing to gain gold and power. 

No one in the village currently had ever met the man, but these stories had been told down generations for centuries now. Your once failure of a town had become prosperous. There was constant rainfall and fertile soil. The rivers and streams were clean, leaving purified drinking water for elders and children. Your pigs and cows were plump and fat, ensuring no one ever went hungry. You would feel a deeper sense of gratitude towards your founder if not for the sickening tradition that must be followed to sustain these riches. The atrocities underpinning your village's prosperity did not end with the founder's bargain.

This was the part where you began to believe the rumors about how vile your founder was. He was a sick man, plagued with desperation. He would have done anything to become rich off of his discovery of Eoghan, and that’s exactly what he did. He’d not only promised his eternal soul to this demon, or rather, the Devil, but he promised to follow through with a human and animal sacrifice every five years. For the next 200 years, the Devil would come to your village every five years. He would come and take his human and animal sacrifice, and then bless the village with endless prosperity until the five years passed. 

Your village was small but not unknown. Monthly, at least one person would visit, whether a traveler passing through or someone seeking a new home. Newcomers were not uncommon. Thus began the village's method of distinguishing between those who "belonged" and the newcomers. Any newcomer unfortunate enough to arrive in the fifth year was sacrificed without remorse. This tradition repulsed you, as you did not believe in the Devil. After all, no one had ever seen him.

It was said that in the fifth year, every villager was required to smear animal blood and holy oil on their foreheads and doors to protect themselves from the Devil's wrath. Anyone foolish enough to refuse was eliminated. As the sun began to set, everyone would paint their wooden doors red before hiding away. No one knew exactly when the Devil came, but everyone ensured their safety by staying inside. No one was curious enough to stay up late and watch through the window.

This year marked the fifth. Five years ago, you were a naive fifteen-year-old, helplessly witnessing your town meticulously sacrifice those who had trusted them. But this year, you vowed to end it. You would not allow another soul to be slaughtered in the name of tradition—in the name of this Devil.

Everyone had a role to play each year, and now that you were considered a full-fledged adult by your village, it was your turn to manage the sacrifice. With a basket of bread and wine swaying on your forearm, you walked to your home. After a long day of milking the village cattle and doing the children's laundry, you still had to find time to feed your bedridden mother. Leaving her alone throughout the day saddened you, but you had to earn your coin to afford her meals and bedding.

"I've seen’t him, I did!" The voice sent chills rushing down your skin. There were always some in the village who claimed to have seen the Devil, but they were never believed, and for good reason.

"Old man Nakuma, please have some shame," you heard a feminine voice whisper, turning to see a woman with a sneer on her face.

"I seen’t him, I truly did! His hair was ghostly white! A-And his eyes, blue! Like crystal!" The old man continued to ramble, but you paid him no mind, sighing softly. This nonsense about devils and demons was tearing your village apart. You could no longer look at the once-respected uncles and aunts of the town the same, knowing that every five years, they participated in the slaughter of one unfortunate soul to appease a demon they had never seen. Pure evil.

Your mind was consumed with thoughts of the impending ritual. The town had already selected a woman for the sacrifice. Her hair reached her calves, and her eyes burned gold with pools of jade within them. Her features were delicate, and her demeanor gentle. You learned she was a widow who had found joy in traveling again after losing her husband and son. She did not deserve such a fate, and you determined that you could not allow it to happen. The walk from town back to your village was rather tiring, but it had to be done.

Without even realizing it, you’d tripped on a large log, almost dropping your bread and wine. You’d been so entangled in your thoughts that the world around you seemed to melt. That was until a grounding hand rested on your shoulder firmly. 

“What has you so deep in thought?” 

You flinched, whipping your head back to see a cascade of obsidian locks and striking purple eyes. Your features softened at his presence, as his mere proximity had a calming effect on you. Regardless of how angry or hurt you were, he could soothe you in moments. You gave him a playful shove and smoothed the waistline of your dress with a free hand.

"Gods forbid a girl enjoys walking in silence," you retorted, rolling your eyes. A grin spread across his Cheshire-like features as he walked beside you, subtly taking the basket of goods from your hand. He hummed and nodded, his bangs framing the sides of his jawline—truly, a god among men.

"Delivering those? Did you even finish your chores? Hm?" he teased, clearly enjoying the annoyed sneer you directed his way.

"What does it matter to you?" you replied, feigning irritation in your tone. 

“You sure know how to wound me,” he replied dramatic as ever, placing a hand on his broken heart. “I just wanted to drop by. Say hi to your mom. 

He began to fish around in his pockets for something before pulling out a brilliant red necklace. You could tell the gemstones were set in a delicate, intricately designed gold chain, which complemented the vivid red of the rubies. The gold was polished to a mirror finish, its warm, lustrous glow enhancing the overall brilliance of the piece. You gawked at how each ruby was securely held in place by finely wrought prongs, ensuring that the gems remained secure while allowing maximum light to pass through, enhancing their natural brilliance. 

Such a necklace must have been extremely expensive. You looked up at Suguru with wide, almost fearful eyes. He was always so kind, constantly helping around the village and caring for his grandmother. Could it be possible that he had stolen this?

“Calm down,” he said with a gentle chuckle. “This is just something my grandmother had. She thinks that… that she doesn't have much longer and that it should go to someone deserving,” he continued, dangling the jewelry in front of your face. “That someone being your mother.”

Should you even reach for it? Do you dare? Throughout your life, all you knew was pain and relentless suffering. As a child, you had no father, and your mother was so ill after your birth that you were raised more by the villagers than by her. Though you never blamed her for that, it did shape your experience of isolation. Most children shunned you due to your peculiarities, and until you befriended Suguru, your only companion was your own shadow. Despite the village's blessings, most of these benefits seemed to favor the descendants of the town's founder and those who slaved the most. No matter how hard you worked, you could barely save enough for yourself, though you never went hungry. You always had your necessities, even if you wished for a little indulgence.

Your hands reached for the exquisite jewelry almost of their own accord, and it was too late to reconsider. You traced the rubies and sterling gold with your fingers, marveling at their beauty. Your mother would truly adore this gift.

“Suguru, I…” You trailed off, biting your lip softly. “Thank you. She’ll love this,” you spoke quietly, starting to walk again. 

The walk back to your village from town was tiring. Your fingers were exhausted and your calluses were hard from hours of knitting, washing, and milking cattle. You wished to just lie down and sleep, but more preparations had to be done. 

Your cottage stood nestled among a cluster of homes in the quaint village, its stone and timber walls weathered by time yet. The thatched roof, meticulously maintained, crowned the structure with a rustic polish. Wooden shutters framed the small, leaded-glass windows, their darkened panes hinting at the cozy interior within.

Surrounding the home, a myriad of trees cast dappled shadows on the ground, their leafy canopies swaying gently in the breeze. Ancient oaks and elms stood tall and proud, while delicate birches added a touch of grace to the verdant landscape. Intertwined with these trees, cascades of wisteria draped themselves over the cottage and nearby structures, their fragrant lavender blooms creating a picturesque canopy of color and scent.

Your front garden was a riot of greenery and flowers, with neatly tended herb patches and vibrant wildflowers spilling over the low stone walls. A narrow, winding path of cobblestones led to the heavy oak door, adorned with iron fittings and a simple yet elegant knocker. It felt so good to be home again. 

You walked in cautiously, hoping your mother wasn't yet asleep. Recently, keeping her awake had become a chore, a troubling sign of her worsening condition. Despite the village's accumulated riches, no medicine could help her. Suguru trailed behind you, his frame larger than yours, yet he moved with surprising quietness. 

“Momma?” You called quietly, before finally seeing her. 

You sighed at the sight of your mother lying on the small sofa, peacefully sleeping while clutching a picture frame. Though you always left her in her room, she somehow always found her way back to the living room. The reason for this was unknown.

“I don’t know why she does that,” you grumbled to yourself, setting the basket of now-warm bread on the stand beside the table. You pocketed the ruby necklace, reluctant to part with something so beautiful.

“I can see why,” Suguru said softly, coming up behind you and gently massaging your tense shoulders, eliciting a small groan from your throat.

“No one wants to feel confined. If I were sick in my room all day, I’d want a change of scenery too. And the living space is much bigger than her room, yes?” His long, thick fingers pressed into your skin like magic, sinking into your exhausted flesh. He moved some hair away from your neck, making a sound akin to a tsk.

“It looks more red today,” he said softly, a note of concern in his voice. He pressed down on it, making you yelp in surprise. Whenever your mark was touched, it sent tingles throughout your entire body, almost overwhelmingly so. You groaned softly, pulling away for a moment before Suguru gently pulled you back.

“Suguru,” you whined softly, squirming in his grasp. “I told you not to touch it…”

He chuckled behind you, his breath warm against the mark on your neck. The mark formed a triangular shape with thick lines, almost like ink. From each point of the triangle, fine lines radiated outward, intertwining with delicate loops and curves that resembled twisted vines or flames. These lines formed a circular border around the triangle, inscribed with runes and symbols from an ancient, unknown language. Within the circular border, smaller symbols branched off, creating a web-like pattern that seemed to shift and change when viewed from different angles.

Some days, the mark hurt and stung, but most days, it felt oddly pleasant to have it touched. It was usually a dark mark, like a tattoo, but recently, it had turned red. Every five years, it began to glow red. When children in the village saw the mark, they feared you and refused to play with you, causing your isolation. But as you grew, they did as well. They began to find the mark intriguing, wondering if it was a birthmark or something more significant.

Your own mother didn’t know what the mark meant. 

"Does that feel good?" he whispered in your ear, his thumb tracing each intricate line of the mark until he heard you gasp, causing you to wrench yourself away from his touch.

"Suguru!" Your face flushed with heat, and your hands trembled uncontrollably. The embarrassment overwhelmed you to the point where you considered fleeing your home. "I said stop!" You buried your heated face in your hands and shifted nervously, hoping your mother wouldn’t awaken.

He raised his hands in mock innocence, teasing you. “What? I didn’t do anything!”

As you reached to push him away, he swiftly anticipated your move, grabbing your arms and bending them gently behind your back. Your back pressed against his chest, intensifying the heat in your cheeks. It wouldn’t have been surprising if you had fainted. The two of you remained in that position for what felt like hours, and all you could do was pant softly, almost desperately.

Your best friend’s hands were remarkably soft. Despite their size, they were gentle on your neck, kneading your sensitive skin as if you were made of dough.

“My mom’s going to wake up,” you whispered, not attempting to fight back. 

“She won’t,” he replied immediately, his voice taking on a soft, almost growling tone. He brought his hot lips down to your mark, swiping his tongue along the marks, forcing you to whimper helplessly.  While other children feared you, Suguru embraced you. He had always been kind and gentle, and as he grew from a teenager into a young adult, he became more than just a friend. He was dependable—your first friend, your first date, your first kiss . He was your best friend, and yet, a part of you always longed for something more. 

“Suguru,” you protested while making no actual attempt to move away from him. It seemed like any time you got alone time with him, his hands were instantly on you. Something made you wonder why your relationship hadn’t progressed past good friends. You ground your hips against his growing boner, earning a soft groan from his lips as his hands tightened on your wrists. He suddenly turned you around after a moment and instantly slammed his lips against yours, his hand flying to the back of your neck to hold you in place. 

In seconds, he’d pinned you against the wall, not even caring about your sleeping mother anymore. His tongue pushed past your lips, leaving no room for defiance. A muffled moan escaped you as your best friend began to grind, snapping his hips against yours. You were too dizzy to protest, allowing him to mold your body into a perfect toy for him. 

Just as you were about to beg for more, blaring alarms began to sound, creating an ominous, chilling resonance—the waning call of the devil. Suguru seemed unfazed, but you couldn't ignore it. Reluctantly, you pushed him off of you, your lips wet and swollen, and your cheeks ablaze. A gentle tingling sensation coursed through your entire body, and you would have given anything to keep kissing him, to have him hold you.

“He’s here,” you said quietly, clearing your throat.

As if on cue, voices began screeching outside the window, warning the village.

“The Devil is here! Quickly,” one voice yelled, pounding on each window and door. “Hide your children! Hide your wives! There’s lamb blood on everyone’s windowsill! Please hurry!”

Doors burst open as crowds of strong, burly men rushed out of their homes to ensure others were grabbing the blood from their windowsills. Mothers emerged carrying their children, fear etched on their faces despite how “normal” this event had become. Most people in the town had lived to see five decades of the devil’s tradition, but the fear never abated. You and Suguru quickly stepped out, grabbed the small vials of blood, and returned inside. You smeared Suguru’s forehead with the scarlet mess, then your mother’s and your own, followed by holy oil prayed over by the village priest.

“Suguru, what about your grandmother?” you asked worriedly, wiping the blood from your hands.

“I’m sure my mother’s watching over her. They’ll be fine.” He moved in front of you to lock the door, but your hand suddenly stopped his, not tightening but holding it in place.

“Actually, I’m leaving. I didn’t finish my last pail today, so the elders want me to milk at least one more cow,” you lied softly. Instantly, you felt his hands tremble beneath yours, his eyes filling with an emotion akin to disbelief and fear.

“There’s no way I’m letting you out while the Devil is here,” he said, his voice soft but his tone cutting like you’d gravely offended him.

“He’s not even here yet! He never comes this early; I still have some time,” you explained, reaching up to cup his cheeks. “Suguru, I promise I’ll be back.”

“Please,” he pleaded, eyes softening towards you in a way you’d never seen before. Such an ethereal man, but he looked so broken now. So vulnerable and weak for you. It was a side of him you’d never seen before, and you truly loved it. The way his eyes glistened in earnest made you feel like he was breaking into a million pieces in front of your very eyes. “Let me go with you. Just…”

You pressed your lips to his softly, savoring his taste for a moment before pulling away. “I must do this alone. I’ll be back before the sun sets.” 

——

The journey back to the pastures was rushed. Your hair clung to your sweaty forehead as you huffed and puffed. Running in your flats was always difficult, but it had to be done. Though you didn't truly believe in the Devil, there was always a small part of your mind that did. A lingering "maybe" echoed in your thoughts. You looked around, only seeing cows still roaming around and munching on grass, as they usually did. It felt strange to not see mothers and children walking around. The entire town was locked up in their homes, fearfully waiting for the Devil to take what was his. This was fortunate, as it left you alone.

You headed over to a small shed on the edge of the pasture fields. The human sacrifice was always kept here, bound, gagged, and usually tranquilized. This was your town’s attempt to maintain a semblance of humanity—if the sacrifice was sleeping, she couldn't be afraid when the Devil came to claim her. You pulled out a small pocket knife from your dress pocket and began to fidget with the lock.

Suddenly, thunder boomed, causing you to shriek and flinch. The knife nearly slipped from your grasp, but you shook off your fear and pressed on. Rain drizzled from the sky, not enough to soak you, but enough for droplets to hit your nose and sweaty head. It was time to go, but you had a mission to complete.

Without faltering, you finally broke the lock and swung the shed door open, revealing a young woman. She wore a magnificent red dress and a black, lacy veil. Her face was dazed and confused, but she seemed conscious enough to understand the grave situation she had been forced into.

You couldn't help but marvel at the dress. Sacrifices were always dressed as nobles and royals to appease the Devil, but you had never seen the clothing up close. It almost made you feel envious, as all you possessed were torn, old dresses. The dress, crafted from rich velvet, clung to the young woman's form and flowed gracefully down to her ankles. The deep crimson fabric shimmered faintly in the dim light as if absorbing the encroaching darkness. Intricate black lace adorned the neckline and sleeves.

The bodice featured elaborate embroidery, with swirling patterns of black thread that seemed to dance across the rich red fabric. The sleeves were long and fitted, ending in cuffs of the same intricate lace that graced the neckline. A ribbon of black satin cinched her waist, accentuating her slender figure and adding a final touch of refinement to the dress.

A beautiful dress meant for a joyous occasion, not whatever this was.

You quickly set to work with the knife, slashing through the restraints on her mouth and hands, freeing the poor woman. Deep, red marks marred the sides of her cheeks and wrists, but she did not groan in pain. She barely reacted at all, just staring at you with trembling hands.

"Please," the woman croaked, her eyes dazed and half-lidded. "Please don’t hurt me…" Her voice was soft and shaken, evidence that the tranquilizer had not yet completely worn off.

"I won’t. I promise I won’t." You noticed a sigil drawn on the woman’s neck; a mark used for each sacrifice. Since it was drawn and not tattooed, there was a good chance you could wipe it off. You extended your arm toward her as the rain began to pour even harder, causing the woman to flinch in fear. She was hesitant, staring at you as if suspecting a cruel trick.

"Please," you pleaded, your eyes gentle and your lip trembling. "He’ll be here soon. I need to get you out of here."

A moment passed before lightning struck again. This time, she quickly grabbed your hand, and you pulled her out of the shed.

The woman whimpered softly, her dark hair now covering her eyes. She seemed so devoid of life, a stark contrast to the vibrant person she had been when she first arrived in your village. Back then, she had been kind and always willing to help, but now she was an empty shell. Her once bright spirit was extinguished, leaving behind only fear and resignation.

You helped her through the dense forest, each step producing sharp snaps as twigs and branches broke beneath your feet. Thunder boomed ominously behind you, echoing the urgency of your situation. The sky had darkened considerably, an unsettling indication that the Devil was either here or on his way. The weight of impending doom spurred you on, making you sprint toward the village entrance, dragging her along without regard for the tightness of your grip. This was life or death.

As you neared the edge of the forest, the entrance of the village coming into view, you felt the rain intensify, each drop like a cold needle against your skin. You wiped your face, trying to clear your vision. The downpour made it difficult to see, but you pushed on, adrenaline fueling your every step. The woman stumbled behind you, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated, but you couldn’t afford to slow down.

Finally, you reached the outskirts of the village, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The entrance loomed ahead, a threshold between fleeting safety and the unknown horrors pursuing you. You glanced back at the woman, her face pale and eyes wide with fear, yet she clung to you, trusting in your resolve. With one last effort, you pulled her forward, crossing the boundary into the village, hoping against hope that you had outrun the terror that lurked in the darkness.

The dark sigil on her neck had smudged, making it easy to wipe off. You brought up the sleeve of your dress and carefully erased the marking using the rainwater.s

“Okay,” you said softly once the mark was completely gone. “Leave. Leave this town and never come back. Warn anyone you hear talking about visiting, please!” you urged her.

She was disoriented, her body heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her eyes held a glimmer of gratitude, though it took her a moment to find her voice. “Thank… thank you,” she rasped, her shaky, frail hand cupping your cheek.

“Please go,” you whispered as the rain poured down on both of you.

She nodded slowly before running off into the darkness. You watched her retreating figure until she disappeared, feeling a fleeting sense of satisfaction at having saved her.

However, that satisfaction was short-lived, quickly replaced by an eerie, sickening feeling that settled deep in your gut. A profound sense of dread washed over you, making your skin crawl. Your head snapped around, and you caught a fleeting glimpse of something white moving behind you. Before you could fully process what you had seen, a wave of dizziness overwhelmed you, and nausea churned violently in your stomach.

You fell to your knees, clutching your abdomen in agony as your vision began to blur and whiten. Through the haze, you felt long, thick fingers gripping your chin with an ironclad hold, tilting your head upwards. Panic surged through you, but your body refused to respond. The world around you faded, the last thing you felt was the sinister touch on your skin before everything went black.

Chapter Text

The morning after the Devil's arrival was shrouded in a somber gray. The once bustling village lay in eerie silence, its streets deserted and homes tightly shuttered. The only sounds piercing the stillness were the sporadic drip of water from hoses and the distant, mournful cry of a lone bird. No one dared to venture outside, waiting anxiously for confirmation that the Devil had departed. Traditionally, another heavy rain would follow his departure, but today was unnervingly clear.

It was a sunlit morning—a rare and unsettling phenomenon since the Devil began his grim tradition in the village.

The first to emerge from his home was old man Itadori. With his weathered face set in a stern expression, he wobbled out of his brick house, relying heavily on his walking stick for support.

"Come on," he grumbled as he made his way from his porch into the communal garden. "We can’t stay holed up forever…" His resolve faltered, however, when he encountered a sight that chilled him to the core. The river that typically separated one side of the village from the other was now a ghastly shade of dark red, its waters thick and murky, resembling blood. There was no sign of fish or other aquatic life—only the unsettling crimson liquid that reeked of rot and decay.

Itadori’s face twisted in disgust and confusion. “What the hell is going on?” he bellowed, his voice carrying across the village and catching the attention of other brave souls who had begun to follow his lead.

The commotion began with a single villager, whose alarm quickly spread. Soon, two more joined in, then three, and before long, a dozen villagers had emerged from their homes. Curiosity and apprehension drove them to uncover the cause of the growing unrest. Children, frightened by the sudden chaos, fled back inside, huddling under tables and sobbing in fear.

The scene outside was alarming. The river had turned a disturbing shade of red, resembling blood, while the grass was decaying rapidly, shifting to an unhealthy, sickly brown. Although it was summer, the trees looked as if they had succumbed to autumn's early grip.

“Hey, look up,” one villager said, pointing at the sky.

“Has the sun always been this… big ?” a man asked, his hands trembling as he stared up, eyes wide with disbelief.

The sun appeared unusually large, almost dominating the entire sky. Its intense heat was overwhelming, causing sweat to pour from every brow and drench clothing. The oppressive warmth was unlike anything the villagers had experienced before; it felt as though their skin was melting under the relentless glare.

Everyone began to panic as they couldn’t tell what was happening. Never in two centuries had this happened before. Either the Devil broke his deal, or someone in the town made a very, very big mistake.

——

The first sensation you registered upon waking was a pounding headache. Your eyes were watery, and your vision was a blur as you slowly came to. You’d somehow ended up collapsing at the entrance of town.

That couldn’t be right, though. You had promised Suguru you would make it back before—

Before what?

In a sudden panic, you sprang to your feet, your eyes wide as your vision gradually cleared. The Devil was here! You scanned the area frantically, searching for any sign that the sacrifice had not truly escaped, but found nothing. The last thing you remembered was freeing the woman and then being overtaken by dizziness. Your entire body felt as though it were prickling with an unsettling chill, the hairs on your arms standing on end. It was as if someone was watching you.

Perhaps you were just exhausted after a long day of chores. That had to be the explanation.

After setting the human sacrifice free, everything seemed to have remained calm. The village hadn’t burst into flames, nor had it been ravaged by any divine force. It was possible, then, that the stories about the Devil were nothing more than horrifying superstitions.

A hesitant smile spread across your face as you sighed with relief. You had saved that woman—like a true hero. Once the villagers saw that everything was safe and there was no Devil to fear, they’d surely be grateful.

Dragging yourself through the forest and meadows, your initial sense of achievement started to erode. The world around you seemed to grow increasingly unsettling. The once vibrant grass, lush and green, had dulled to a sickly brown. The flowers that used to brighten the landscape had shriveled into desolate, dry husks, their petals curled and brittle. The soil beneath your feet had turned dark and mushy as if it were decomposing.

As you neared the village, the rotting stench of decay became overwhelming, seeping into your nostrils and intensifying the nausea you had been feeling. The air was heavy with the foul odor, a grim reminder of the destruction that seemed to pervade every corner of the landscape. Each breath felt like a struggle, the acrid smell making your stomach churn. It was as if the village itself was succumbing to some unseen blight, and the more you inhaled, the closer you came to losing the battle against your rising bile.

Despite your efforts to convince yourself otherwise, the ominous signs around you could not be ignored. The landscape had transformed into a scene of death and decay, casting a grim shadow over the victory you had once felt so certain of.

Suddenly, a sharp, searing pain radiated from your neck, precisely where your mark was located. It was an unusual sensation, one you rarely experienced. The sensation alone forced a soft groan from your lips. 

The distant murmurs and desperate cries of your fellow villagers pierced through the thick, acrid air, reinforcing your growing dread. The once vibrant town, teeming with life and color, was now a scene of desolation and decay, and it had all transpired in a single, harrowing night.

“Gods! What have we done wrong?” A distraught mother collapsed to her knees, her cries mingling with her children's sobs. She clutched her children to her chest, tears streaming down her face as she prayed fervently. “We sacrificed another, and this is our reward?”

Nearby, a man, his face contorted in anguish, also sank to the ground. “We have been nothing but faithful servants to the Devil! Where is he? Why has he forsaken us?” His voice trembled with a mixture of confusion and fury.

The sheer chaos unfolding around you was overwhelming. You stood paralyzed, watching as the villagers’ despair spiraled into madness, their once firm beliefs crumbling in the face of their plight. The overpowering stench of decay made it difficult to breathe, and your stomach churned with rising nausea. Unable to endure the sight or the smell any longer, you turned and hurried toward your home, your mind racing.

Reaching your house, you flung open the door and rushed into the living area. There, you found your mother lying on the sofa, still in a deep, disturbed sleep, her body covered in lamb’s blood and holy oil. The sight of her, juxtaposed with the chaos outside, only deepened your sense of helplessness. But Suguru was nowhere to be seen.

A wave of despair crashed over you as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. The realization that you might have unwittingly triggered this catastrophe clawed at your heart. The Devil you had stubbornly refused to believe in seemed undeniably real now, and you feared that your actions had condemned the entire town to suffer. The weight of your choices felt unbearable, and you grappled with the crushing guilt of possibly having damned your entire village to a fate worse than death.

Tears streamed down your face, at first in a slow, steady trickle, then cascading down like an uncontrollable downpour. “Mama,” you whimpered, your voice quivering as your body shook with sobs. Your dress was tattered and soaked, the heavy scent of rain-soaked earth and mildew clinging to it. You felt utterly wretched and repulsive, overwhelmed by the crushing realization of your own guilt.

“Mama, I really need you right now,” you sobbed, desperately trying to rouse your mother from her sleep. Your attempts to shake her awake were futile; she remained unresponsive, her frail form barely registering as alive. You could sense that her time was running out if she had any left at all.

As you continued to cry, your ears caught the sound of the front door creaking open.

“There you are! Damn it!” Suguru burst into the room, his eyes wide with concern. He hurried to you, his strong hands gripping your face with a mixture of relief and frustration.

“Where have you been? I thought—I thought you were…” His gaze swept over you, taking in your disheveled appearance. “You’re soaked through… why are you crying? What happened?” His voice was a mix of worry and bewilderment, his eyes searching yours for answers.

You could only gaze up at Suguru, trying to decipher the mix of emotions on his face. He seemed genuinely horrified by your appearance, his eyes wide with a fear that mirrored your own.

“Where did you go?” His voice was soft at first, almost a whisper, but then he spoke again, louder and more insistent. “Tell me, please. I know you didn’t go milk the cows.” His tone turned accusatory, his large hands gripping your shoulders so tightly that you could feel the bruises forming beneath his fingers.

“I made a... a serious mistake, Suguru!” you cried out, tears of fear streaming down your cheeks. The enormity of what you had done weighed heavily on your heart. Your entire village was falling into shambles, rotting, and decaying because of your actions.

Just then, a piercing scream echoed through the air, causing both of you to turn toward the source. Another villager had collapsed to his knees, his eyes wide with terror, his overalls drenched in a cherry-red liquid.

“The animals,” he stammered, his voice hollow and broken. He had ventured away from the chaos for a moment to check on the meadows and pastures, only to return with the horrifying news. “The animals, they’re all dead!”

His words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. The villagers, already on edge, began to panic. Mothers clutched their children tightly to their chests, their faces etched with fear. Fathers exchanged anxious glances, unsure of how to protect their families from this unseen menace. The stench of decay permeated the air, overpowering the once-familiar scents of home. The vibrant village was now a scene of utter desolation.

“What do you mean?” a woman inquired, her voice trembling with fear.

“I went to check on the cows and… each one of them is lying in a pool of their own blood!” he explained, his head bowed. “And the ones that aren’t dead smell foul, like rot. They’re sick, I think…” He looked around the village in disbelief.

The crowd fell silent, everyone staring at one another in shock and horror.

You turned to Suguru, your eyes wide with guilt. “I think… I think I did that,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Suguru sighed, forcing a small, incredulous laugh. “I know you feel bad, and this is terrible, but there’s no possible way…” He stopped as you interrupted him.

“I didn’t milk the cows yesterday. Actually… I freed the human sacrifice,” you explained quietly, your head bowed in shame. 

He was quiet, more than likely hoping you were simply telling an awful joke. Once he realized you were being dead serious, his brows furrowed. Something foreign flashed in his eyes—disappointment, realization, and also relief. He bowed his head, resting the top of it against yours, his long, obsidian locks cascading down to frame your face.

“I’m just glad you’re safe. That you were able to… get away with that with your life,” he whispered, absorbing your soft, shameful cries.

“I’ve damned everyone, Suguru,” you gasped softly, your eyes wide and glistening with tears as they locked onto his.

Suguru's hands gently cupped your tear-streaked cheeks, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Come on, calm down. You don’t know that,” he reassured, his eyes still kind despite the gravity of your confession.

His thumbs brushed away the tears, his touch both comforting and grounding. The warmth of his palms contrasted with the cool dampness of your tears. His voice, though gentle, carried an urgency that demanded your attention.

“Listen to me,” he continued, his tone firm yet soothing. “We will figure this out. Together. You should have told me what you were doing, but…” he trailed off, just leaning down to peck your lips. “Doesn’t matter now.” 

You were captivated by the young man before you, mesmerized by his ability to soothe your tumultuous emotions when no one else could. He knew you intimately—body, mind, and soul. He was your true, singular soulmate, the one who understood you like no other.

"What can I do? How can I fix this?" you implored, wiping away tears and sniffling softly, your heart beginning to steady in his calming presence.

Suguru’s touch was gentle as he caressed your cheek, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding and compassion. “Well, we can start by telling the townspeople what you did,” he suggested softly, his voice a balm to your frayed nerves.

“What? Suguru, no!” You quickly backed away from him, nerves on edge as goosebumps prickled your skin. The mere thought of confessing to the villagers was unnerving, and there was no way you were going to tell everyone that you were the reason the entire town was now damned to hell.

“They deserve to know, don’t they? Wouldn’t you want to know?” His voice remained suave, almost persuasive as if he could convince you to agree.

For a fleeting moment, you considered it, but then you remembered just how ruthlessly your town could behave. These people sacrificed others for their own benefit; imagine what they would do to you! You narrowed your eyes at Suguru, a flash of anger coursing through you.

“They’ll kill me, Suguru. They won’t be as understanding as you are, and you know that,” you whispered, clutching your throbbing temple. The fear of retribution from your fellow villagers was overwhelming, and you couldn’t bear the thought of facing their wrath.

Turning away, you muttered, “Forget I even said anything. I’ll figure this out on my own…!”

Before you could take another step, Suguru’s grip tightened around your arm, yanking you back towards him with a force that took your breath away.  His grip was firm, almost bruising, and his expression was a mix of desperation and determination.

“Don’t be foolish,” he hissed, his voice low and insistent. “You can’t do this alone. You don’t want to tell them? Fine. But we need to tell someone to get some help.”

You gulped, your body trembling in his grip. The situation was becoming overwhelming, and your head pounded relentlessly. Regret gnawed at you; you should never have interfered. It wasn’t your place to free that woman, and now you had condemned the entire town. Suguru’s expression was a mix of disappointment and frustration, making you feel like a foolish child, and the weight of his disapproval nearly brought you to tears again.

Just as Suguru opened his mouth to speak, a loud bang echoed through the house. Both of you exchanged wary glances before you slowly moved to open the wooden door. Standing on the threshold were two imposing men from the town center. Their stern faces and authoritative presence immediately set you on edge. These men were typically the guards for the town’s leader and elders—what could they possibly want in your village?

“Everyone has been ordered to travel to the center of town. The elders would like to speak with you all.”

——

Suguru squeezed your hand lightly before pressing his hand to your lower back, guiding you to one of the seats. You’d all been brought to what used to be the town’s chapel, now an almost abandoned area covered in moss and mold, with broken and stained seats from years of neglect. The elders were already seated at the front, commanding the attention of everyone present. Your town consisted of two small villages and a separate lot for the elders and the founder. It wasn’t a large, bustling town, but looking around, you saw faces you’d never seen before.

Your mother was slumped in her chair, as you had been instructed to bring her whether she was awake or not. Her frail form added to the already heavy atmosphere.

Suddenly, a large, burly man stepped into the center of the room. His dark brown hair was neatly kept, but his expression was set in a deep scowl. He seemed rather upset, and you had a good guess as to why.

“I’m sure you all know why you’ve been summoned,” he spoke after clearing his throat, his voice deep enough to seem like it could shatter the tectonic plates of the earth.

“Our century-long tradition has failed. This has never happened before, as we all know, but now it has,” he continued, scanning the room with a penetrating gaze. The other men and women stood to their feet behind him, their faces stern and unyielding.

He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. “Our prosperity, our very survival, has always depended on the rituals we uphold. Yet, for the first time, the ritual has been disrupted. The consequences are dire, as you all have witnessed.”

You held your breath, anxiety tightening its grip as your eyes darted around the room. Paranoia seeped into your thoughts, weaving together a thousand ways in which they might know the truth—that you were the cause of the village’s sudden descent into chaos. Each stolen glance from a villager felt like an accusation, each whispered word like a dagger aimed at your heart. How could they possibly know? You tried to convince yourself it was impossible, that your secret was still safe, but doubt gnawed at the edges of your resolve. It was too soon to know. Wasn’t it?

Then, one of the elders, a gaunt man with a voice as sharp as flint, stepped forward from the shadows behind the leader. His presence seemed to darken the room, and when he spoke, the sound cut through the uneasy silence like a blade.

"Someone among us has committed a grave error," the elder declared, his eyes sweeping over the gathered villagers. The tension in the air thickened as everyone turned to listen, the atmosphere growing heavy with anticipation and fear. "Yaga has already had a vision, along with some witnesses revealing things to us."

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing the fear that surged within you. As the elder's gaze swept across the room, it felt as though his eyes lingered on you just a moment too long. The weight of his words pressed down on you, and for a terrifying moment, you were certain he could see right through you, to the guilt and panic that simmered beneath the surface.

The murmurs of the villagers grew louder, a chorus of suspicion and unease. You could feel the walls closing in, and the air around you seemed to thicken, making it difficult to breathe. Suguru’s hand, still resting on your lower back, was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality, his touch a small comfort amid the rising dread. You squeezed his hand, hoping to draw strength from him, but even his presence couldn’t chase away the terror that gripped you. 

You nodded slightly, your throat too tight to speak. Your mind raced with possibilities, each one more desperate than the last. Could you escape? Hide? But where would you go? And what would happen to your mother, still slumped in her chair, oblivious to the storm that was about to break over all of you?

“We have reason to believe,” the man began, his gaze fixed unflinchingly on you, “that the woman who disrupted the ritual is a witch, sent by the Gods to punish us.”

You felt the urge to sneer. Yes, you were a woman, but how had they so quickly leaped to the conclusion that you were also a witch? The accusation seemed absurd, yet it loomed over you.

His words struck you like a blow, sending a jolt of terror through your body. You trembled uncontrollably, the accusation hanging in the air like a noose tightening around your neck. 

The elder’s voice cut through your thoughts, sharp and commanding. “There will be no more waiting. No more hiding. If you know something, step forward now, or face the consequences of your silence.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. You could almost hear the collective heartbeat of the villagers, each one as anxious as the next. The tension was suffocating, and you found it hard to breathe. Your chest felt tight, your pulse quickened, and your mind raced with the thought of the village turning on you. The elders were relentless, their stares boring into the crowd, searching for the smallest hint of guilt or fear. Your nerves were frayed, every part of you screaming to run, to flee this place before they discovered the truth. But there was nowhere to go.

The elder's eyes swept over the room once more, his expression darkening with frustration. "We cannot delay this any longer. Our village's survival depends on our ability to root out the cause of this curse. If anyone harbors any knowledge, any suspicion now is the time to speak."

You tried to rationalize. Whenever misfortune struck the town, the elders would claim that Yaga had foreseen the culprit, often compelling someone to confess. Over the years, this pattern made you question whether Yaga ever had any visions at all, suspecting it was merely a ploy to extract confessions. You silently prayed to God that was the case now.

You felt your heart hammering in your chest, each beat a deafening thud in your ears. The elder’s words hung in the air like a death sentence, and you could feel the collective gaze of the village slowly turning in your direction. It was as if they could sense the guilt radiating from you, like a beacon calling them to you. The thought of it made your stomach churn, your fear twisting into nausea.

Suguru, sensing your mounting panic, leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “Stay calm. Don’t let them see you’re afraid.”

But how could you not be? Your entire world was crashing down around you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. You knew what these people were capable of—how quickly they could turn from neighbors and friends to a vengeful mob. You’d seen it before, in the eyes of the sacrifices chosen over the years, their desperate pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears.

The elder at the front of the room finally spoke again, his voice carrying a note of finality. “If no one will come forward, then we will have no choice but to take more drastic measures. We will find out who is responsible for this, one way or another.”

The crowd murmured in response, their fear and frustration palpable. You could feel their eyes on you, their suspicion growing with each passing second. It was only a matter of time before someone spoke up before the whispers turned to accusations.

You could feel your pulse in your throat, a steady, rhythmic beat that seemed to echo the impending doom that loomed over you. Your vision narrowed, and for a moment, you wondered if you might faint right there in the chapel, your knees giving way under the crushing weight of your fear.

Just when you thought you couldn’t bear it any longer, a voice rang out from the back of the room. “Wait!”

Every head turned, including yours, to see who had spoken. It was one of the younger villagers, a boy you barely recognized. He looked nervous, his hands fidgeting at his sides, but there was a determined look in his eyes.

“I think I saw something,” the boy said, his voice trembling but loud enough to carry across the room. “Last night… I saw someone near the old well. I don’t know who it was, but they were acting strange.”

The elder’s eyes narrowed as he fixed his gaze on the boy. “What did you see, exactly?”

The boy hesitated, his gaze darting around the room as if he were searching for the right words. “I—I’m not sure. It was dark, and I couldn’t see their face. But they were doing something near the well… something that didn’t seem right. Like they were trying to hide something.”

The room fell into a tense silence, the air thick with suspicion. The elder seemed to consider the boy’s words carefully before nodding. “We will investigate the well. If there is something to be found, we will find it.”

Your heart skipped a beat as the villagers murmured amongst themselves, the focus shifting from you to the mysterious figure near the well. Relief washed over you like a cool breeze, but it was short-lived. The villagers were scared and desperate, and it wouldn’t take much for their attention to shift if nothing was found.

The elder nodded to the guards, who moved swiftly to organize a search party. The villagers began to file out of the chapel, some murmuring in low voices, others exchanging worried glances. You and Suguru lingered behind, waiting until most of the crowd had dispersed before moving to leave.

As you stepped outside, the cool evening air hit your face, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the chapel. The sky was a deepening shade of blue, the first stars beginning to twinkle overhead. But even the beauty of the night couldn’t dispel the knot of dread that had settled in your stomach.

Suguru led you away from the chapel, his arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders. “We need to be careful,” he said quietly, his voice low. “This isn’t over yet. If they don’t find anything at the well, they’ll start looking elsewhere. And we can’t let them find out what really happened.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you tried to push down the rising tide of panic. “What do we do?

He was quiet for a long moment before sighing softly. “We’ll have to summon the Devil.”