Sacrifice 소설 & 이야기

Not attacking—restraining. "What's happening?" Vincent struggled against the vines. "The sacrifice," Luna said, her eyes wide. "The temple wants a sacrifice." "What kind of sacrifice?" Dante demanded, fighting to reach Luna. "Life force." Luna touched the vine holding her. "It wants to take energy from someone who freely gives it." "Take mine," I said immediately. "And mine," Dante added. "And mine," Marcus and Vincent said simultaneously. Luna smiled sadly. "It has to be freely given, not offered out of duty or love. It has to be a true sacrifice, made without obli

"The registration office... Officer Miller sent me! Someone finally did it!" The Don frowned, his hand resting on Carl’s shoulder. "What are you talking about?" "The sacrifice!" the servant cried, his voice cracking with a mix of terror and relief. "Someone officially signed their life away to the Abyss! The ritual is on! We’re saved!" John stood in the dirt, the secret burning like acid in his throat, watching his family celebrate his death without even knowing his name was on the paper.

The particular threat of someone who could burn the Hall to ash and was choosing to speak instead. “Victory built on unwilling sacrifice is not victory. It is theft. It is murder dressed in rhetoric. The god of wisdom asks what may be sacrificed for victory and what must never be. I say this: the only thing you have the right to sacrifice is yourself. Your comfort. Your safety. Your life, if you choose. But never another’s. Never the innocent’s. Never the outcast’s, simply because their blood is cheaper than yours and their screams don’t reach your ears.”

My face inside the reflection was pale, but I could feel another soul sleeping inside this body besides my own. It was the other "me"… The one that was full of rage, the one who had fought through endless reincarnations, and the one who had ultimately chosen self-sacrifice so I could have this ending. I tightened my grip on Sophia's hand, and tears rolled down my cheeks silently. "It's alright, Sophia," I said softly. "We're going home." And on the nightstand, Snowy, the white stray that should have died long ago, was elegantly licking its paw. Around its neck hung the collar I had only recently put on it in the dream. The date engraved on the collar was… 6-14

The Gate’s voice grew louder. WHAT WILL YOU SACRIFICE, BLOOD MOON QUEEN? I stepped closer. “Nothing.” The valley shook. NOTHING IS FREE. “Then let me pay with something that belongs to me.” The sixth symbol on my chest blazed. I felt the covenant answer. The Gate was waiting for a sacrifice because that was what the old law demanded. A life for a life. A crown for a crown. A soul for a soul. But I had spent my entire existence fighting a world that believed love required someone to suffer.

In the seventh year of our marriage, my wife, Serena Clark, digs up my parents' urns and places them in front of me. Then she gives me two choices. "Either give your designs to Seth so he can enter the competition, or I'll scatter your parents' ashes into the sea," she says. Clutching the designs I've just finished, I swallow my pride and give in as tears burn in my eyes. The next day, a photo of Seth Johnson sitting on a yacht scattering ashes goes viral. Serena comments beneath the photo, "I'll give you everything I have and spoil you rotten." I stare at the urns in the corner of the photo, feeling my blood run cold. My deceased parents and I have become tools Serena uses to please S

he said quietly. I stepped closer to the table. “What wording?” “The word they translated as sacrifice.” My heart began beating faster. “What do you mean it is wrong?” The historian took a slow breath and pointed to the ancient word. “In this language, this word does not mean killing. It means an offering of devotion, prayer, or service. It can describe giving something willingly to honor the Moon Goddess, but it does not mean taking a person's life.”

"Tell me the harder word, then." Margaret studies me for a long moment, and something in her expression shifts, the careful, patient stillness she usually offers giving way to something graver, more deliberate. "The sacrifice this ritual requires," she says, "is not simply something precious in the ordinary sense, child. It is something each party genuinely cannot live without. Not treasured. Not cherished. Essential. The kind of thing whose loss does not merely wound but fundamentally unmakes the person losing it." "That cannot be right." My voice comes out unsteady despite my best effort to hold it level. "Margaret, no ritual asks two people to give up somet

“She said, ‘I returned the life I saved. In the next one, don’t come looking for me.” For a long moment, Lucien made no sound at all. Then he covered his face with one hand and bent forward, shoulders shaking with a grief too large to hide. A year passed. In that year, Lucien changed almost everything and repaired nothing that mattered. In Elara’s name, he began paying for wolves who could not afford healers, medicine, or transplant fees. He poured land, coin, and effort into it as though enough of any of those things could buy absolution.

How convenient. I turned to face the bewildered crowd and smiled. "Think about it, everyone. Today, he sacrificed me for Vivian. Tomorrow, it could be any of you. If he really wanted to help her, he should've put himself on the line instead of forcing someone else to take the fall." Under everyone's increasingly suspicious gazes, Lionel's face instantly flushed red. His eyes were bloodshot as he opened his mouth, still wanting to argue. But honestly, wasn't this all just about Vivian's so-called tragic family situation?