The Sacrifice I Made

The gods are always with us. At least, that’s what the leaders of my country wanted me to believe. Bad grades? The gods are the reason. Nightmares? The gods have a plan. Death? We’re the gods’ entertainment, nothing else. So, when I finally made it to the Afterlife, the one my leaders always praised as a paradise, I was taken aback by the dismal landscape and muted colors. The gods were supposed to be these all-powerful beings who bring love and life back into the awful world I used to call home, but they must’ve run out of money when renovating our “forever home”. Or, as I call it, our “Torment for Eternity Vacation Home”. It has a nice ring to it.

My name is Micah Layne. I’m what some people called a “Shadow”. I was always there, just never noticed or needed. Or really wanted. Ironically, I’m scared of the dark. Terrified. The shadows in my room seemed to bend and twist in such unnatural ways that I had been accustomed to sleeping with the lights on. And now, I’d never sleep in that bed, in the room I shared with my sister, who loved to sleep with the lights off. I’d never help my mother with breakfast, or wave goodbye to my father after he dropped me off at school.

All because of that stupid dare.

I lived in what used to be called Greece, a place where gods and mortals interacted together. The rebellion had named it Avalon a couple hundred years ago when people still cared about each other and could make their own decisions without fearing what the Avalonian gods would think. Unfortunately, I was born into a family of “saints”. My father was a priest, my mother a priestess. My older sister was a youth leader. And I was the black sheep, the disappointment. The one my parents hid during important dinner parties and joked about to their buddies. And although I loved them immensely, I was sick of trying to be a good kid.

My parents had a high status in our community. Because of both their career and spiritual successes, they rose quickly to the top of the food chain. My sister followed in their footsteps, while I stayed near the bottom with the other vermin. I had one friend: Juliette Klyce, the unexpected child of Matthew and Evelyn Klyce. She was prom queen, student body president, and favorite pick for any award. And she was the one with the wonderful idea to sneak into the temple of Athanasius.

The temple of Athanasius was infamous for its bad omens and dark followers. Athanasius was the god of immortality and death, the two things everyone feared. Many families left small offerings for every god, but Athanasius was always forgotten. Always ignored. Funny how fate works; Athanasius, the forgotten god, killing me, the Shadow.

The day of the dare, Julliette picked me up in her vintage, scarlet Corvette in the dead of night. Like always, the lights in my room were off, casting everything in its pitch-black darkness. I was leaning over my windowsill and held onto my denim blue backpack, the panes wide open. The car lights blinded me for just a second as she pulled up to my window.

“Micah, come on!” She hissed, parking the car. I clenched my jaw as the engine hummed loudly. “We don’t have all night.”

I climbed onto the tree a couple feet from my window, gripping the branch as wind swayed the tree gently. “I’ll be down in a second.”

Once on the ground, I hopped into the passenger’s seat and threw my backpack into the back seats. Julliette revved the engine, and I glanced up at my bedroom window, my heart pounding louder than the noise Julliette’s old car was making. “If we get caught-“

“Then I’ll make sure I take the blame,” Julliette promised. “Just make sure to put your offering on the front steps before heading in. And don’t touch anything but Athanasius’s symbol.”

“And the fifty bucks?” I held out my hand, and Julliette sighed, rummaging in her pocket before shoving the crumpled paper money in my hand. “Thank you.”

The drive took a half hour, but every minute felt more like an eternity. A couple cars passed as we drove through the quiet neighborhoods, and streetlights shone above, forming shadows that creeped toward me as we passed. I swallowed painfully and kept my eyes on my hands.

Julliette and I made the offering the day before during Math since no one cared what happened during that class; I had seen some horrendous events happen in the back seats. The single black rose was made of paper mâché and painted while our teacher droned on about triangles and some other shapes. Julliette insisted on adding silver glitter to the edges of each petal, which did look beautiful, but I would never give her the praise that would raise her already inflated ego.

The Grecian architecture of Athanasius’s temple was unique from the rest of the gods, who had modern temples and monuments. The ebony stone and intricate detailing were a nod to the past, present, and future. Although intimidating and ominous, I couldn’t help but admire the beauty in the temple. But I was apparently taking too much time because Julliette shoved me out of the open door. I stumbled onto the stone walkway, my legs shaking violently. I walked to the temple steps and grabbed the offering from my backpack. I held my breath as I put the rose on the first step.

“Get going,” Julliette whispered as she turned off the engine of the car but stayed in the driver’s seat. “We don’t have all night.”

“Sorry,” I muttered before scrambling up the stairs. There was no door, just an empty hole of darkness and anxiety. My phone’s flashlight caught the dust in the air as I stepped into the temple.

Purple fire flashed as I continued down the long hall. My heart jumped into my throat, and a voice whispered down the hall.

“Finally. I thought you had forgotten about me.”

Kneeling at the altar, I placed my second offering; an offering Julliette didn’t know about. “I’m sorry, my lord.”

A man appeared on the opposite side of the altar, picking up the silver dagger, my offering, from the altar. He smiled down at me, but I kept my head bowed.

“Hand.”

I raised one quivering hand, dreading what would happen. What always happened. Athanasius grabbed my wrist, slashing the palm of my hand over a scar that had finally healed. I gritted my teeth as warm blood trickled down my arm, but I kept my head bowed and my mouth shut. I couldn’t look at the god until I made a sacrifice, but I hated it each and every time.

“Please, rise.” I stood quickly, bowing to the man. “And stop with the formality, its insufferable.”

“I’m sorry, my . . .” I paused, looking up at the man for the first time that night. “I mean, Athanasius.”

Athanasius patted my shoulder, the warmth from his palm heating the rest of my body. “It’s been almost a month. I thought you decided to stop training.”

“I’m . . . I don’t know if I want to continue.”

The silence following my confession suffocated the room. Blood dripped onto the marble floor, and I tried wiping the rest on my jeans. Athanasius’s grip turned icy cold quickly, and I took a step back, cradling my palm with my other hand.

“You are the first person in years to even come here.” Athanasius closed his eyes, his hand outstretched towards me. “And the light and darkness inside you have almost connected. You are so close.”

“I can’t do it,” I said, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “The sacrifice. . . the shadows . . . they follow me now. I can’t sleep without the lights on. My family is worried. Julliette is worried, which means something is really wrong.”

Athanasius turned away, setting down the dagger onto the small table. I began wrapping my hand with a cloth bandage that I kept with me, already stained dark red, but froze as Athanasius began talking.

“I’m displeased to see your hesitation.”

I breathed heavily, shrinking back down the hall. “Athanasius, I really am sorry. Please let me go.”

“You won’t embrace the darkness.” Athanasius slammed his fist on the table, and I fell to my knees, tears spilling down my pale cheeks. “I cherished you as a student.”

“Let me leave-“

Athanasius barked out a laugh. “Oh, no. I’m sorry, Micah. But I can’t have you spreading the word of my teachings. I can’t have you live now.”

“What?!”

The room grew as cold as Athanasius’s glare as he whipped around to face me. My teeth chattered, and I wished I had taken a jacket. Not like I need one now, I’m about to die.

“You’ll just have to stay somewhere a bit more permanent,” he said coolly, raising his hand. “Goodbye, Micah Layne.”

I tried to shout at him, to plead for him to reconsider, but before I could make a sound, Athanasius snapped his fingers.

And the world went dark.

The gods are always with us.