I know I should be sleeping now, but I know also that I can not. It will be dawn in a few hours, and then the ritual will begin. I sit next to your bed as you sleep as peacefully as ever, sweet sister, dear Yun. But in just precious few hours your little body will be sprawled over the cold stone alter, my torchlight shining in your blameless eyes, the last thing you will see before you die. Tears stream from my eyes as steadily as the river flows, but where one brings life, another will see it taken.
The sacrifice is as ancient as the clan. Our world revolves around the powers we are granted through the gifts we give to the earth, from which we are all born. It is the way things have always been, the way things are, and the way things will always be. If there were any other way, I would swiftly choose another course. If I could give my life for yours, I would do so gladly. If time would stop and morning would never come, I would live happily the rest of my days in darkness. But it must be done, and so it shall.
Oh, my sweet sister, why must it be you? I could see a thousand nameless faces die as sacrifices to our spirits, but my heart does not want to let yours fade. Outwardly you appear so calm, so at peace, so wise, so resolved to your fate. Is it really as effortless for you as it seems? How can it be, when it is so painful for me? I feel my heart breaking; I moan in anguish to know that after this night I will never again see your easy smile or hear your infectious laughter.
You sigh softly in your sleep and stir slightly, and I cover my mouth with my hand as I begin to shake with silent sobs. There will be no more games, no hunting in the forest; no more dresssing you for bed and brushing your hair and telling bedtime stories to put you to sleep. I'm not just losing you; I'm losing the most precious and important part of my life, what makes me feel needed, my reason for being, my hope for the future.
I pull the blankets over your small shoulder and tuck the covers under your chin, watching you breathe steadily with the innocent smile of a child on your lips, but I know you are wise beyond your years, and it may as well be so; all the better for you to face the dawn. Sister, lend me strength.
Forcing myself to stand, I extinguish the flame of the candle on your dresser and plunge the room into complete darkness, feeling a pang at the irony of my action. I leave you to your rest, quietly closing the door behind me. It is time to prepare myself, but I realize it will take time. I feel guilty and afraid. My fingers tremble and my palms itch with sweat. If I go to the alter in this condition, my hand can not be the one to use the knife.
Saying a soft prayer as I kneel by the fire, I weep my last tear for you and dry my eyes. I clear my mind and still my breaths, staring out into nothingness and chanting softly as I meditate. My voice grows more steady but does not rise in volume. Soon the mantra becomes a mindless task and I think on nothing. I lose myself, floating away to a place where time and emotion do not exist, and I may see the world a little more clearly. When I find that peaceful place of solitude, I leave my heart behind and return to the fire. The time has come and I know what I must do. I harbor no guilt; I have no regrets. What must be done shall.
