Gilly stood alongside the other maidens at the entrance of her village Ashmere. This morning, her mother had braided her hair while making silent prayers for her safety.
Today was the day the collectors from Thornmere came for the turned eighteen maidens.
Mrs. Madeline, her mother, understood what awaited girls taken to Thornmere, as the palace was known to be dreadful and terrifying.
Gilly had grown up hearing many scary tales about the land, stories that left even the bravest mothers in Ashmere fearful of bearing female children.
Every four moons, riders would come from Thornmere to collect Ashmere of its daughters, and this tradition began after King Voren ascended the throne.
Gilly looked around her, this very spot she stood was where, as a child, she had watched other maidens being taken away by those horsemen, now, it was her turn.
Gilly had often dreamed of becoming a healer. She began gathering herbs at nine to tend to the sick and wounded in Ashmere.
Her ability to identify their medicinal properties came from her ancestors, a gift she cherished. But now, the dream of helping now feels like a distant memory
She recalled their conversation the night before, when she had asked her mother why they couldn't fight the people of Thornmere.
Her mother had dismissed the idea, insisting they must accept their fates. "It's safer," she had said. "Remember, we possess no powers. We are only descendants of werewolves, left with just a small gift from the goddess."
Gilly turned to look at her mother's face, she saw tears trickled out her eyes even if she tried to hide them, and not a word had passed between them since they left home in the early hours of the morning.
The tradition of taking girls has affected the village of Ashmere, and mothers whose children were taken lived in sorrows and fear.
And the land which used to be a land of the original werewolf clans, had nothing but a few gifts now, that couldn't even help them fight against the bloodlines of Thornmere, as they were nothing but descendants.
Ashmere was left to endure the cruelty of this tyrant king they had never seen but heard dreadful stories about.
Gilly's only hope was that the riders never came. Ashmere had been her home since childhood. As lupine descendants, they all felt powerless, lacking the abilities of the original werewolf clans. Unlike the royal bloodlines of Thronmere who were said to be powerful, especially the cursed prince, rumored to be more dangerous than the others.
Gilly was lost in thoughts and didn't notice the changes around her. A small boy of seven had run into the crowd, his eyes showed fear.
"They come, riders! On the hills!"
The villagers started whispering, and you could see the fear in their eyes. Some mothers hugged their daughters like it was the last time. Gilly felt her mom squeeze her tightly, and tears welled up in her eyes.
"What if we never see our girls again, like the ones they've already taken? one woman cried, glancing at her daughter. Another woman, with tears streaming down her face, shook her head, saying, "I can't lose another kid."
Then immediately twelve riders on black horses come through the fog. A wagon for the maiden's collection followed behind, its wheels leaving marks on the road.
A rider soon dismounted, pulling bundles of red wool from his saddlebag.
"Wear these," he commanded the maidens, tossing the cloaks at their feet. These horsemen looked more scary than the ones she had watched the last time they came.
The people, including their mothers, stepped back, knowing too well the consequences if they stayed too long.
The girls picked up the cloaks one at a time, wearing them around their necks. Gilly also picked one just like the others did, she could feel her hands shaking as she moved the wool around her throat.
The girls soon climbed into the wagon. Gilly's heart beats fast as she watches them go inside.
When it was her turn to go in, she stepped forward, glancing back one last time to catch a glimpse of her mother, who she wished for one last embrace, but her mother seemed lost to view, leaving Gilly feeling more alone than ever.
The girls formed a row inside the wagon as it began to move, Gilly turned to look out the small opening inside the wagon, watching Ashmere go into the fog.
Somewhere beyond the mist, she knew her mother would be weeping, she was her only child.
This made her even more sad knowing how lonely life would be for her. Gilly bowed her head on her lap, as she began to cry.
Hours later, the land of Thornmere soon appears from the fog, Gilly stood pressing her face against the wagon's bar looking out the kingdom view, and just like the tales, the land was exactly how they were told, full of blackness except from the lights coming from each villagers houses as they passed.
The wagon slowed, coming to a stop.
The black palace gates opened, and it got darker and colder inside.They passed through several gates, each guarded by huge men in black fur cloaks.
When the wagon finally came to a stop, one of the horsemen ordered them out. The girls were dragged out from the wagon and pushed forward through narrow passageways until they reached a dimly lit room with little light coming from only the burning fireplace.
A lady in red entered, she had long brown hair with beautiful features. It was obvious she was someone who had encountered thousands of Ashmere girls and lost interest. Her red robes swept the floor, and behind her were three women, all dressed in grey.
Gilly thought they looked like lower servants, given how elegantly the lady in red moved.
"Undress," the lady commanded them. Uneasy glances were exchanged among the girls, and Gilly suddenly felt discomfort she had never been asked to undress for anyone before.
"Show them what it means to disobey orders here," the lady said, settling into a chair, her fingers gesturing dismissively toward the girls.
Fear gripped Gilly's heart as the third servant drew out a knife and slit one of the girl's throats, her lifeless body immediately collapsed to the ground.
There was heavy silence in the room as gilly's hand went to her mouth, stifling a gasp as horror washed over her. The sight of the lifeless girl in her own pool of blood sent a wave of nausea through her. Other girls panicked, some screamed in horror while others choked back screams that threatened to escape.
"Should I repeat myself?" the lady in red shouted.
The reality of the situation sank in as the dead girl lay below, her eyes wide open in shock. This was the daughter of the woman who had said she might not see her child again.
The girls obeyed her orders, their hands moving quickly as they struggled with the buttons of their dresses.
The sound of the girl's fabric filled the room. Gilly quickly pulled her dress down after unbuttoning it, feeling the cool air brush against her skin as she stood there, exposed and vulnerable.
The lady in red watched with satisfaction as the girls revealed themselves.
"Good," she said. They all stood naked. Gilly didn't raise her eyes from the floor, she felt discomfort, she had never been this exposed before.
Unknown to them, a figure showed up at the entrance. He was tall, with white hair that fell past his shoulders, partially covering his eyes. He watched them, his gaze resting on Gilly's bare form.
"Prince Caelen," one of his guards called. The prince averted his eyes from Gilly and turned to the young guard before him.
"Get me my horse. I hunt alone," Caelen commanded as he strode past the room.
Shortly after, the inspection began.
"Turn," ordered the lady, and each girl complied.
"Arms up. Legs apart. Look forward." Gilly followed the commands as she made her way down the line.
"This one, the altar. Too thin. Maid. Burn mark. Slave."
Three to four girls wept when they were branded for the altar and led away by servants.
Gilly's turn came.
She lifted her head just enough to see the lady in red approaching her.
Their eyes met for a moment, and Gilly quickly bowed her head, her body shaking from fear of the dead girl.
The lady extended her gloved hand, touching Gilly's shoulder and moving down to her arm, waist, and hip. She squatted slightly, touching the inside of Gilly's thigh, then stopped. Leaning in, she took a closer look, her fingers pressing gently into the flesh.
Then she looked up. "What is this?"
"A birthmark," Gilly whispered, dread pooling in her stomach.
The three lower assistants stepped closer to inspect.
"This one is not for the altar." Gilly closed her eyes in relief. "Not a maid either," the lady remarked, looking up at her. "She goes below."
Gilly lowered her eyes again. Her birth mark had saved her from being sacrificed, but that didn't mean her fate was any better.
"You will serve as a slave of Thornmere," she continued, casting a glance at the other girls. "Slaves here are nothing less than animals. Always remember that. And this new brand given to you should remind you of your place in this palace. If you dare think of disobeying orders, you will wish you hadn't."
Gilly's breath caught in her throat.
Brand mark, she'd never been branded before and the thought of being branded with a hot iron sent shivers down her spine.
The lady gestured to one of the assistant's, who stepped forward with a small, glowing iron in hand. "It is a promise of loyalty. You will not resist and that's a command."
Gilly felt the heat of the iron drawing closer. As it pressed against her upper breast, she gritted her teeth in pain.