The surface of the swamp bloomed with clouds of iridescent orange, white, blue, and red. The waters, placid like glass, reflected the sky overhead, the skies which were now filled with hundreds of glowing lanterns. The tiny flickering flames pocketed in each white lantern danced along the water. Their flames, the ones reflected in the waters, were lengthened and distorted, appearing more like ghostly orange figures than fire.

Each person encircling the body of water, all 2000 members of the village watched this hellish dance with the wonder, their minds all churning with the same unanswered questions: will this sacrifice be their last? Will the beast finally be satiated?

“Ygnacii”, Father Hunji called, his loud voice a deep rumble splicing through the silence. All the villagers, even the youngest ones still too small to light their own candle, turned towards the village chief. Father Hunji, with his heavy ivory robes draped over his thin frame and his long silver locks looked himself, like something of folklore. A ghost or perhaps an elven thing.

The waters rippled, warbling the reflection upon its surface. In an instance, the luminous streaks on the waters vanished, blinking away and turning the waters into inky black slates. The villagers, though used to this ritual by now, still glanced up at the sky, half expecting the lanterns to have vanished. But there they were, hanging suspended in the night sky, unmoving yet still burning.

Even the full heavy moon which hung like a painted mural against the charred sky should’ve been reflected on the water's surface, and yet, that too was amiss.

It was not customary that everyone wear white on the Ygnacii Blue Moon, but still, it seemed they all did. Perhaps it was the need to blend in with the lanterns themselves, becoming nothing more than a vessel for the flickering flames of their souls. Or perhaps it was simply to seem pure and clean, the perfect image of obedience worth saving.

The only one of them not in this crisp moonbeam color was Nula, the young child who stood so close to the water's edge, that the cool waters lapped at his feet. Nula was as all sacrificial children were, dressed in the finest cloth. Rippling silk tunics dyed as blue as the iridescent feathers of a peafowl adorned his skin, and finely smithed chains lay against his throat. Nula was not used to such fine garments, poor as he was. It was unfortunate that the moment in which he finally wore such rich fabrics was now, in the final hours of his life.

“Ygnacii, great spirit of our waters, we have brought you a gift. One we wish will satisfy you at last, Great One”, Hunji changed, the reverence in his voice so profound, it rang its praise deep in the cavities of every body standing witness.

Hunji, having stood a few feet behind Nula, stepped forward. He bent down to whisper in the boy's ear, his voice a warm breeze at Nula's shoulder.

“Announce yourself, child”

A forest of tiny goosebumps sprouted across Nulas shoulders, down his back, and along his arms. For the first time today, after being worshiped like a king since he was granted the chosen one seven nights ago, Nula felt some semblance of fear. The fear beaded in his gut, congealing into rough-edged pebbles that pressed uncomfortably against his skin.

“N-Nula, your greatness. My name is Nula”

His voice trembled and shook, an unsteady trickle that spilled from his lips.

All was quiet for a while. The water remained so black it seemed to swallow the light around and cast swaying shadows along its edge. The villagers seemed to multiply, the shadows adding thickness and density to their numbers.

The waters that washed against Nulas toes turned icy, so frigid he took a step back, feet mottled with red and purple.

Nothing seemed to happen for a moment, but the villagers knew better than to walk away so soon. The great water goddess never failed to accept the sacrifices at her doorstep each blue moon.

As expected, the waters rippled, then churned. Slowly, as though peeling open a sleeping eye, the waters receded. They curled away towards the opposite shore, revealing the mucky undergrowth and reedy plants that covered the swamp floors. The lanterns suspended in the sky finally broke free of their spell, floating into the night and blinking out of existence.

“Go”, Hunji preened, nudging Nula forward for the second time today.

Nula's heart beat hard in his chest, almost painful in its jittery dance against his sternum.

His eyes skimmed the crowd, searching the sallow faces of the villagers for his mother. He thought perhaps she hadn’t come at all, too afraid to witness the death of her only child. But finally, he found her, standing between the throng of white clothes bodies. Her long dark hair was coiled atop her head, elegantly poised as always. But unlike her usual calm collected self, she appeared a broken shell of her former self. Her skin, usually so rich in color, now appeared washed out, almost ghostly.

Opalescent pearls of tears sprung from her eyes, making her high cheekbones and the area under her eyes swollen veined.

“M-mama”, Nula whispered, the trembled sound a desperate final goodbye. Without him, she would be alone. Not truly alone as she still had her sister and nieces, but their home would always feel empty without Nula.

Her eyes found him and for a moment, it looked as if she were going to step forward and say something. But alas, she turned, ducked her head into the shoulder of the woman beside her, Nulas aunt. To be chosen as the sacrificial offering was the greatest of honors. If Ygnacii accepted him it would mean he would be the one to finally end the villagers seven-year drought and save everyone. If she rejected him, as she had all the offerings before him, he would be hailed a hero, a reverent saint with a shrine in the village temple.

Nula turned back to the parted waters and swallowed hard.

He took a step forward.

Then another.

And another.

When he was finally at the center of the cavity the waters released with a whoosh, swallowing the boy up in its depths.

The last thing the villagers saw of Nula was a tear-stained face large moss green eyes filled with childlike youth before the waters claimed him.

All was still for some time. The villagers did not see his struggle, nor his body beneath the depths. All they saw were the still waters as if nothing had changed.

They waited, well until the sun created the horizon, a flaming torch in the otherwise colorless sky.

But after some time their faith began to fizzle away, swallowed away like the lanterns in the night.

As she had many other times before, The Great water goddess failed to accept their sacrifice. Their unending drought would remain unending.

Hunji was the first to turn away from the swamp, already starting the journey back home. One by one the villagers followed him until only one person remained at the edge of the water.

Nulas mother bend over the silent waters, her grief splitting her deeply at the thought of being without her son. She bunched her robes to her knees and took one step into the water. Her mind, at peace and no longer spelled with grief, felt weightless as she wadded into the cool waters. She took another step.

Then another.

And another.

Her head dipped under the water with swiftness, baring no hint of struggle.

The waters were still, muddy green under the bleak purpling twilight.

Then, something happened, something that had never happened before.

A glowing light appeared in the water.