We'll all die

Isolde.

Isolde coughed ceaselessly when she finally made it to the bank on the northern side. She felt cold, her body shivering as water dripped from her hair onto her skin in a streamlet.

A glance back informed her that the men weren’t coming after her. That was enough to give her respite, but when she turned to the vast dark forest before her, a trickle of dread raced down her belly.

Where was she?

Gathering her waning strength, Isolde began penetrating the dense forest. Heavy breaths punched through her as she navigated the thick thicket, her wide eyes circling the whole place.

“Ahh,” Isolde yelped as a net made of sturdy ropes and cords ensnared her, pulling her up from the ground. She didn’t notice the poachers’ trap on time and bounded into it, triggering the spring.

“No!!” She let out another cry, struggling to free herself from the trap. The net was so tight that she practically curled in on herself.

Amid her struggles, Isolde heard the incoming footfalls and braced herself for an attack. Five men emerged, roaring with laughter that chilled her spine.

“It took us nine days to convince your human master to sell you to us, and now you think you could run?” One of the men blurted and brushed into another laughter.

Human? No, she wasn’t human. She was a lycan, although nobody knew that truth except her family. They made her vow to hide the truth about herself all the years she spent in Brindlemark before the keeper and her men came and took her.

 Well, Isolde willingly followed them when the keeper’s men nearly beat her father to death because of his debts. That was how she found herself in Kalingrad.

“I told ya, the trap would be the easiest way to find her, right boss?” Another of the males intoned, feeling smug.

“Right, right, Erimont,” the ‘boss’ hummed, inching close to Isolde. “We should get her back before Alfos arrives.”

They nicked the sturdy ropes of the net, and Isolde crumpled on the floor, the leaves pasting on her damp body.

“I’m not who you think I am,” she yelped.

The men froze when they saw her, trading surprised glances.

“Boss, it’s not the girl,” Erimont complained.

 The boss glared at Isolde and hunkering down, he fisted her damp hair, hollering, “Who are you?”

“I was just…” She began, but the boss halted her words.

“Forget it. We’ll take her. We can’t stand to lose two hundred pieces of gold coin now.”

“You’re right, boss,” the others concurred. One threw Isolde over his shoulder and began to take her away even while she screamed and hit his back.

Was staying in Kalingrad better than this unknown fate that awaited her? The thought flashed through Isolde’s mind.

It took a long hour of walking through the dense woods before they arrived at the nondescript hovel in the middle of nowhere.

The man carrying her dropped her on the floor, hissing, “Fuck, you’re one hell of a rock!” He groaned as he rolled his shoulder to ease the knotted muscles.

Isolde glared at him, gritting her teeth. She figured out when her eyes scanned the hovel that there were other females there.

Isolde’s eyes turned saucer-wide. Ten females! What were these men doing with so many females?

“Here, take this piece of clothing and shield your nude or my men will feed on you before Alfos arrives to take you.”

Isolde gingerly fit into a worn, stinking tunic he threw at her and curled back on the floor.

A while later, the ‘boss’ scampered into the hovel, panting.

“Alfos is here. I want you all to behave yourselves. We gotta get our money and leave, but if you threaten to mess things up, I’ll kill you once Alfos leaves, get that?” The harshness of his voice had Isolde shuddering.

“Yes, master,” the females chorused.

Shortly after, a huge man with long raven hair and donning a long black coat hovered over the door of the hovel, his aquarium blue eyes inspecting the females. When he moved into the hovel, clasping his hand behind his back, Isolde’s heart sank.

Oh, well, not just her. The other females as well.

“Just eleven?” The man’s voice was cold, just like his face. Spine-curdling kind of cold, and Isolde dreaded it.

“Ah, yes, sire. But, of course, my men and I will still journey back to the human world to procure more females,” the ‘boss’ explained.

Alfos exhaled, pursing his lips. “Very well then, fetch them.”

As soon as the man walked away, the ‘boss’ and his men came pulling the females up and dragging them outside. A wagon awaited them. Forcefully, they pushed all the females into the wagon.

Isolde was practically shivering. She ran into the devil’s lair in her bid to escape another devil. Her eyes scanned the females as they fought their fear.

“We’re all gonna die,” the girl beside her hummed, licking her parched lip.

“How do you know that?” Isolde blurted, managing to hold herself from freaking out.

“We’re headed to Abbator in Bloomington, the land where females are used as procreators,” the girl answered.

“Procreators?” Sure, Isolde didn’t understand that.

“Yes. From what I heard, Bloomington lacked female species. They need females that would help in procreation. But not just to the people…”

“The lord as well,” another chimed in, interrupting the girl beside Isolde. Isolde’s eyes turned to the girl as she added. “The cursed lord of Abbator.”

Dread, it was all Isolde felt. A cursed lord? She’d only read of such in books.

“We’ll be given cards. One red. One green,” the second female continued. “If fate smiles on you and you pick the green, then you’ll be the female for the people. You’ll bear children for males that desire it. But if you pick red, you’ll…be the lord’s only breeder…”

The girl didn’t finish her sentence. Something was left unsaid, and Isolde wanted to know what that was.

“And what happens to the female?” She summoned the courage to ask.

The second girl roamed her eyes around in fear before it glided back to Isolde. “You might end up dying.”

Isolde’s breath seized. For the first time in her life, she said a prayer to whatever being lurked in the shadows to protect her.

There was the green card; she’d ensure to pick it up while she planned her way out of Abbator.

*

*

*

Dawn had crested over the sky by the time they made it to Abbator. The place was filled with thousands of males, confirming the girls’ words.

Isolde never saw a woman, and she wondered why.

 They approached the gates of the castle, and the wagon rolled past. However, they paused just after the entrance. Two sentinels approached them, ushering them down.

“Bring the cards, Ogibly,” Alfos boomed as he walked toward the females, pausing before them.

The sentinel dispersed but returned in a short while with a bowl of cards. In queue, the females trudged ahead, picking.

Smiles clouded the faces of those who had picked. Isolde knew already it must be the green card. It gave her hope.

When it reached her turn, Isolde hummed a short prayer and picked. She stepped aside and turned the card. A gasp slipped out of her mouth at the color staring back at her.

It was red.

It cannot be, she chanted inwardly, waiting for the color to change back, but it never worked. Red stared back at her.

“Now that you’ve all picked. It is time you began your duty as procreators. Welcome to Abbator,” Alfos said, of course to the others. To Isolde, he approached her with a dark look and ordered, “Follow me, female.”

Her legs trembled when she rose to her feet again. She felt the insane tempo of her heart as they ventured into the tower.

The moment Isolde walked in, the painful wail of a female and the groan of a male echoed across the tower.

All the males remained nonchalant while horror rained in the tower.

That was when Isolde knew it must be the cursed lord.

She felt someone snag her wrist and tug her with fierceness. Turning, Isolde noticed it was Alfos.

“Do not linger! Follow me!”

At those roared words, he pulled her harshly. After a long walk up the stairs, they made it to a room cell. Alfos pried the locks open, the door clattering.

“In,” He ordered, and Isolde slipped into the room. Before she could blink another moment, Alfos clanged the door shut.

She turned in panic and rushed to the door, screaming. “Please, don’t lock me in!”

Her cries rang through the hall, but Alfos never turned back. She knew then that he had sealed her fate.

TBC.