Ariadne did not know why, how she could have accepted to do as the two strangers told. To go on about her seeming day-to-day, while, every now and then—and with considerable gaps in-between as to avoid suspicion, inspecting the Chieftain's manse from afar, and up close. To, bit by bit, locate blind spots, weak points, and enough information about the sleeping schedules of the guards.

The latter alone was madness, enough for her to beg the Frank and the Abyssinian to leave at once with all her provisions so that they could let her wither away in peace.

The former, however, to wear the mask and feign her turn into a new leaf, a true member of her community once more, went far beyond the scrutinizing of any defenses for the planning of whatever assassination. It made her sick. While it was true, that she had to comply with the customs of her village, to an extent—even as an outcast she knew there to be a limit for her defiance—to commit to it to the highest degree, even as an act of veiled treason, made her stomach twist and churn. As if it were chock-full with bloated, hearty stew rather than scraps and air, both of which she had long grown accustomed.

And yet, day by day, the feeling of disgust diminished. With every fake curt and bow, with every empty laugh and smile, with every favorable hint and tidbit on the opulent, well-watched mansion, delivered to the contrasting pair at her home during the night, her confidence bloomed anew, a fire long thought dying, near-extinguished, ablaze once more. It was not that she lacked will, but rather, it limited itself to surviving, never acting to extremes. Always hoping that one day, perhaps, her prayers would be heard, retribution due, and her weight lifted.

Soon, she thought. So soon indeed, for today was the last moon before the sacrifice, before another innocent soul went, willingly, into the depths of that accursed cave. Would they go on with it without Callinincus to guide them? Would they follow through with his will from beyond the grave?

She pushed these questions aside, for they were pointless and nonsensical. Soon, she would see justice served. Soon she would escape into freedom, riding atop a wild steed along with that unlikely pair, to live a new life in the Iberia, and many more lands unknown, with the burden of her soul taken off her shoulders. Soon, perhaps, her sleepless nights would come to an end.

"A-Ariadne?"

How long had she been standing there, so lost in thought that his enormous presence went unnoticed? To fail to realize the setting of the sun, the dispersing of the village folk, her lonesome sticking out more and more, as the happy families entered their homes to await the time of selection. Expectant for tomorrow, the day of sacrifice.

"A-re you a-alright?"

Her confidence faltered, flickered, a torch smothered by the deepest of shadows. She could not face him, not even with her mask on, not with the deep sense of guilt that clawed at the back of her mind.

"Yes, Demetrios, I am fine, I must be going now."

"Ariadne, w-wait."

She could not turn back to face him. Neither could she move.

"I-I, I-I know you not like today, but I—"

"I said I am fine."

Demetrios remained silent, head down, motionless, holding onto the rose of selection with the utmost care, for even the lightest of his touches would no doubt pulverize the flower.

"Demetrios."

His head rose, a ghost of a smile in his grotesque features, half-covered by his own mask, that of a horned beast.

"Have you ever thought…of somewhere."

"S-somewhere?"

"Somewhere, somewhere else. To go, out there, live anywhere, wherever you want. Anywhere you can think of."

"I…"

"Can you imagine?"

"Y-yes."

She wanted to cry out, to tell him everything, to beg for him to join her, even though his size far surpassed what the might of any steed could withstand, even if it proved too much of a risk. To hold out on him proved far worse.

"What do you see?"

"I-I s-see…you…somewhere, flowers, lots of them, everywhere…happy."

"And you?"

"I-I? C-can I?"

The lump in her throat proved far worse. "Demetrios, of course you can."

"B-but…b-but I, I not…"

She could not do it, not any longer. Without skipping a beat, she spun on her heel moved towards the stuttering giant, and caressed the uneven contours of his face, much to his shock.

"It matters not what you look like, you know that."

"No, Ariadne, I, I not," he fumbled the words, for he could not find them. Whatever he struggled to say, Ariadne knew it both escaped and troubled him greatly. An ingrained memory, a deep-seated fear that showed not itself or its reason, only its consequence, that of shivers and rambling.

Being no stranger to these demons of the mind herself, she knew that she could never hope to ease them, not in their entirety. Nevertheless, she tried her best. With every caress, the giant calmed, until at last, he could speak once more.

"Thank you."

"There is no need, you only need to answer me this."

Demetrios shied his sight away, the demons still strong.

"Could you be happy? Somewhere, someplace, far away?"

He sniffed, tears welling in his eyes, the demons unrelenting.

"With me?"

Demetrios looked at her, beady-eyed, the demons long gone. "Y-you, me?"

"Yes, Demetrios, you and me. Somewhere, free."

Demetrios hiccupped and cleaned his nose. "Y-you, m-me?" he laughed. It almost made her forget everything. "You, me—"

A cold shiver ran up her spine as Demetrios's cheer and spirit fell prey once more to the devils, as did too his voice, now but a whisper. The sounds of many shifting sandals neared ever so closer towards them. She dared not turn back.

"…F-father," whispered Demetrios.

"Evening, my dear boy, I do hope you are ready," said Callinicus, his sickly sweet tone complemented by the deep, uneven breaths of the masked, armed men by his side, the Keepers of the Faith. "Evening to you as well, dear Ariadne."

"Evening to you, my Chieftain. Forgive me, for I must be leaving now," she turned around, gave a hasty bow, and was just about to storm off.

"Where to in such a hurry? The goodwill of the Gods has already graced you. A family can only hope to receive the privilege of sacrifice once per lifetime, some may not even be so fortunate."

"My guests, Chieftain, I cannot afford to show them half-hearted hospitality, lest I bring shame upon the rest of the village."

"Ah, yes, I see," his smile ever-present. "My dear Ariadne, you need not push yourself so hard, I am sure our guests will be more than satisfied by your care by the time the festival has come to an end. Grand word of us they shall carry with them, upon their departure."

"I thank you for your concern. I shall leave you to your duties now, my Chieftain, may the blessings of the Gods be with you."

Ariadne prayed with a devotion she had not found inside her, not since she prayed every day so that her sister would remain safe. She begged in silence to whomever, whoever could listen, to send her back to her hut, send her far away, as far as possible.

"Wait," said Callinicus.

She knew better, and yet how could she not try?

"Yes, my Chieftain?"

"Come with us."

"I-I beg your pardon?"

"Worry not, there is no need. You see, Ariadne, I have heard of your most recent…change. Truly wondrous indeed, you cannot imagine my joy. Village folk speaking volumes of your aid at the preparations of the festivities, the good word of renewed faith. How it pleased me so. Now, to hear that from my followers was something indeed, but to hear it from my dear son himself, one who knows you so well, beneath all pretense, now that is worthy of my consideration."

"Consideration of what?"

Callinicus chuckled. "Well, consideration is not quite right, since I have already made my decision."

She almost prayed again.

"Demetrios," said Callinicus.

"Y-yes, Father?"

"Hand it over to Ariadne would you, my boy. She shall join us today on this momentous occasion. Fitting, is it not, my dear? Almost unbecoming, veering far too closely into favoritism, some might even dare to accuse of me, but who am I to spurn such loyalty, such renewal of faith.

Why, after a loss as tragic as yours, blessed as your sister's dear soul may now be, in the company of those loyal, the fact that you have found life anew is nothing short of a miracle, the very handiwork of the Gods themselves. No, no, do not fret, my dear, please, do not fret. Rejoice and hold on tight to the stalk, hold the petals close to your heart, for what better reward of your spiritual rebirth than to hand you the duty of presenting this year's chosen."

On she followed, quiet and as ignorant as she could be of the world around her. Of the procession towards the chosen home, of which Callinicus always claimed to come to him in his dreams the night before. Of the knock on the door, and its slow creak as it opened. Of the family's surprise, turning into wild jubilation. A mother, father, and daughter celebrating what they considered the greatest honor, their prayers heard. Of how she gave the flower to the young girl, and how the child smiled at her, with those large, innocent eyes.

Her eyes. Her smile. If only for a moment.

Of Callinicus caressing her shoulder and bidding her a good night's sleep, to rest well for tomorrow's sacrifice. Of Demetrios looking back at her as she took a step and stormed off.

She had to reach home. She had to. However, things were never that easy, not for her. The moment came to life once more.

She felt the hands of the villagers, holding her back, forcing her to watch her disappear into the maw of that accursed cave. Felt the shortness of air as she cried and ran off, back to a home that existed only in memory. Past merged with present, a horror brought to life, until, at last, she felt herself slam into the old planks of her door and fall to that harsh, dusty floor she well knew, the world back to what it was: something she would rather forget.

Not a tear came out of her, not a sob. No matter how hard Amram and Zelikman asked about it as they helped her up and sat her on the table. All she told them was the last of what they needed to go on and do as they told.

"When you hear us knock thrice, then you will know, the deed has been done," said Amram as he and Zelikman sneaked out into the night, silent as shadows, sparing each a glance at her as they left.

As their steps faded away, her gaze fixated on the crackling of the fire, on the bouquet of decrepit roses laying nearby, a growing gift of Demetrios. She grasped and fed it to the flames as if an offering.

She sat back down and stared, unflinching, unblinking, at the sweltering heat that consumed stalk and petal, seeing patterns she wished to see in the hues, a face she wished consumed by the fire.

Something was different now, however. Soon it would all be over because this time someone would answer her prayers.