“So, who’s going to die today?”

Jacob Hendrik spoke, his voice grim. He was sitting around the fire with the rest of his village, though he was speaking quietly to his friend, Lars. Lars was as anxious as ever, as he should be, no one wanted to be a sacrifice. Well… at least most of them didn’t. Some were sitting at the edge of their seats, hoping to be picked, to be sacrificed to their goddess. Jacob couldn’t share the sentiment.

Lars was gripping his seat tight, his face already pale. He was always the most nervous of them all, while everyone else just took to this day with a grim silence, or eager excitement. Lars looked at Jacob, shrugging.

“I-I don’t know.”

Lars whispered as the pendulum swung across each name. He tensed each time it crossed his, terrified it would land on him. At least the man didn’t have a family to worry about. Jacob, however, did. He didn’t just have his name on there that worried him, but the name of his three children, and his wife. The village leaders had no quandaries with sacrificing even children.

The pendulum swung, over and over, before it decided on a name.

“Oh hemeltje.”

Jacob uttered the words as he looked at the name chosen. Jacob Hendrik. It was his name. His hand gripped his seat tight, and everyone was staring at him.

“Jacob Hendrik, come forward please.”

Ambroos Visser, the village’s leader, spoke. It was almost as if he was enjoying this. Jacob felt his skin crawl, he had never felt completely comfortable with this tradition, but now he was feeling utter dread about it. Lars was staring at him. His wife, Julia, too. His three kids, mostly were crying, though his oldest was silent, like she agreed that this was the rules, this had to happen. But Jacob refused to move. Soon he felt hands gripping him, pulling him forward to the altar, and no matter how hard he tried to resist, they overpowered him. He could have sworn he felt someone’s hand trying to pull him back. Maybe it was his goddess, who never actually wanted these sacrifices to happen. Maybe it was his family, his child. Maybe it was his friend. He would never known.

They kneeled him down in front of the altar and he screamed out, thrashing as they pulled out the axe, so beautifully made yet stained with the blood of others. He continued to fight them, yet they held them still as Ambroos raised the axe, preparing to slaughter him. He could hear Ambroos chanting, though it was all a blur to him.

And Jacob could swear that Ambroos was smiling, as he brought it down upon his neck.