1 Every year, in the isolated hollow of Blackwood Creek, a girl of age is chosen to be the Patron’s Bride. The chosen one must enter the sacred cavern to lie with the Patron, a mysterious entity the town has worshipped for generations. If she emerges alive, she becomes a revered Matriarch, and any child conceived from the union is said to be blessed with a life of fortune. If she dies… well, the town simply waits for the next year’s Bride. The "blessing" of her sacrifice is then said to pass to her family. But no one ever wanted to be chosen. Families fled the valley, pulling their daughters out of school, anything to escape the selection. Except for me. I volunteered. Because I had a hunger. A desperate, gnawing curiosity to know what a god felt like. The day before the spring equinox, I was sprawled on my bed, scrolling through my phone, when a crowd of people flooded into our yard. Elder Hawthorne, the town’s de facto leader, was at the forefront. "Elara," he boomed, a grin stretching across his weathered face. "We’ve come to give you the good news!" I shot up from my bed. "Elder Hawthorne, does this mean… I’ve been chosen? Can I be the Patron’s Bride?" He chuckled, his eyes crinkling. "Your sister Clara was the Bride just last year, so your name wasn't meant to be in the running. But since you insisted so fiercely, we had no choice but to open the Sanctum and ask the founders." "We cast the stones three times," he continued, his voice dropping to a solemn tone, "and three times, the founders gave their consent. It is settled." "Yes!" I practically leaped into the air with joy. "Calm yourself, child," the Elder said, handing me a list. "Here is what you will need to prepare. We will escort you from your home at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. I've asked a few of the more experienced women to help you get ready. You can ask them anything you don't understand." "Oh, thank you, thank you! I’m… well, I’m not very experienced. What exactly will I need to do… in the cavern?" I asked, trying to sound shy. Martha, my neighbor and one of the town’s older women, frowned. "We'll instruct you on that tonight. For now, we must prepare your ceremonial gown." I dashed into my room and returned a moment later, clutching a full ensemble—a deep crimson gown, hand-embroidered with ancient symbols, and an ornate headpiece. "I've always dreamed of marrying the Patron," I announced breathlessly. "I've had this ready for a long time." Our town had fallen on hard times. More and more people were leaving for the cities to find work, leaving Blackwood Creek to rot. I was the last unmarried woman of a certain age left. That’s why, even at twenty-eight, I was still considered a candidate. As someone who had supposedly dreamed of this day my entire life, I had prepared for it meticulously. As soon as the Elder and the other men left, I eagerly turned to the women. "So, how do I please the Patron?" Martha followed me into my bedroom. Her eyes immediately fell on the collection of objects scattered across my bed. Her face went pale. "Elara," she whispered, her voice tight. "Tell me true. Are you… untouched?" "Of course, I am." "Then what are these?" she asked, gesturing at the mess. With a flourish, I gathered the items and began to explain. "This is my secret weapon. For years, none of the Brides have conceived the Patron’s child, have they? It’s because the women themselves aren’t prepared. So, I consulted a wise woman, a seer, and she told me I needed to use these. With their help," I declared, "I can have as many of his children as he desires." Martha took one of the objects from me, her expression a mixture of disbelief and intrigue. "This… this thing is that powerful?" "It is. If you like them, I can give you one each. I have plenty." I opened a drawer and pulled out several brand-new, still-in-the-box items, handing one to each of the wide-eyed women. Each was worth a small fortune, and just like that, they were bought. They not only taught me the secret words to whisper to the Patron, but they also impressed upon me one critical rule: no matter what happens in the cavern, I must not, under any circumstances, open my eyes. Filled with a rush of excitement, I decided to share my most precious secret. "Martha," I began, leaning in conspiratorially, "the seer who advised me… she said I have a blessed womb. She said I'm like fertile soil—if someone tills the land, a forest is sure to grow." I lowered my voice to a whisper. "That's why I've kept myself pure for so long. No man is worthy of this body, except for the Patron." Clatter. The device in Martha’s hand slipped from her grasp and hit the floor. When she saw me looking, she forced a smile back onto her face. "That's wonderful, dear. The future of our town rests on your shoulders." 2 To be certain, after I had fasted and bathed as instructed, they laid me down on the bed to perform the final check. Two of Martha’s fingers probed, struggling to find any purchase. Finally, she sighed with relief. "You are pure, Elara. The Patron will be pleased," she said, her voice softening. "Now listen closely. What I'm about to tell you is the key to winning his favor. You cannot make a single mistake." They drilled me until midnight, going over every last detail until I was dizzy with instructions. The next morning at eight, I was brought to the Sanctum. It stood in the heart of the village, a grim, windowless building that only men were permitted to enter. Women were forbidden from even kneeling at its door. The only exception was the Patron’s Bride. As I stepped over the threshold, a wave of vertigo washed over me. It felt like I’d seen this all before in a dream, a scene I couldn't quite grasp, the details slipping through my fingers like sand. "Don't just stand there daydreaming," Martha hissed. "Kneel and pray to the founders for their blessing." "Yes, of course." Half an hour of tedious rituals later, I was finally led to the courtyard behind the Sanctum. They intended to change me into the ceremonial gown right there, out in the open sun. I clutched the front of my simple dress, hesitant. "Here? But… the men from the neighboring houses can see. My body is for the Patron alone. They are not worthy." Martha’s eyes flashed with impatience. "Those men are the ones who inspect you for the Patron. Only if you pass their examination will you be worthy of ascending the mountain." I fell silent and let my hands drop. No matter how many X-rated films you’ve watched, nothing prepares you for the hot blush that creeps up your neck when the last piece of your clothing falls away in front of strangers. Another half hour passed. Dressed in the magnificent crimson gown and ornate headdress, I emerged from the back of the Sanctum. As I looked up, I saw several of the town's elder men staring, their eyes bloodshot, their throats working as they swallowed. Elder Hawthorne nodded, satisfied. "Let's begin." At his signal, music began to swell from unseen players. Unlike the joyous tunes of a normal wedding, the music for the Patron was a somber, ancient dirge. Its melody was both grand and unsettling, its notes seeming to bore into your very soul. My head grew fuzzy, and I forgot everything, my feet moving automatically, following the procession out of the Sanctum. Halfway down the path, my left foot caught on my right. I pitched forward, crying out as I fell to my knees. My palms scraped violently across the rough stone path, leaving a smear of blood in my wake. "To see blood on such an auspicious day! This is a terrible omen!" Elder Hawthorne’s face darkened with anger. I quickly pulled a small charm from a hidden pocket in my gown. "Elder, don’t worry! The seer gave me this lucky charm. It ensures my success in all things," I said, my voice bright and confident. "Besides, she foretold that my day would begin with sorrow but end in joy. This bleeding only proves that everything from this moment on will go perfectly!" My words seemed to placate him and the other elders, and the procession continued. But for some reason, the cuts on my hands wouldn't stop bleeding, leaving a faint, crimson trail behind us. The stinging pain made it impossible to focus on the hypnotic music. As we reached the trailhead leading up the mountain, a black cloth was tied over my eyes. The Patron desires purity in his Bride’s gaze, the Elder had explained. I was not to look upon the wild spirits of the mountain, lest he find me tainted. With my vision gone, my other senses sharpened to a razor's edge. I could feel the uneven ground beneath my feet, the path turning from worn stone to dirt and roots. The music behind me seemed to intensify, crawling under my skin, inescapable. The air changed, too, losing the smoky scent of the village and taking on a cold, clean fragrance. I instinctively clenched my fists, and the pain in my palms flared. I don’t know how long we walked, but I could feel the sun beating down directly overhead when they finally allowed me to remove the blindfold. Before me was a winding, narrow path. It ended at a yawning cavern, a mouth leading into endless shadow. Beside it stood a colossal tree, its branches reaching for the sky. The intoxicating scent of night-blooming jasmine hung heavy in the air, so thick you could almost taste it. The villagers claimed this tree had fed on the essence of countless Brides, which was how it grew so tall, so fragrant. Ten yards from the cavern's entrance, the procession came to a sudden halt. Elder Hawthorne's small, cloudy eyes fixed on me. "Are you certain you want to go in?" 3 My cheeks flushed, a blush of what I hoped looked like shy anticipation. I gazed at the dark maw of the cavern. "I am." "The Patron is said to be tall and handsome, a match beyond compare," I said, my voice thick with feigned desire. "I'm not getting any younger, and I've never known the touch of a man." My crude words made the men around me frown. Even Elder Hawthorne seemed displeased. But I had passed all their tests that morning. And I was, by my own declaration, the fertile vessel they so desperately wanted. No matter how much he disliked me, he had to let me go. "The village has no other unmarried girls, Elara. This difficult duty falls to you," he said, his tone grim. "When you are in there, think of your parents. You're the only child they have left." My face grew even redder. "Don't you worry, Elder. I promise I'll come out with the Patron's child. My parents will have a grandchild to dote on, and our village will prosper!" No one but me was allowed to set foot in the Patron’s domain. They could only escort me this far. Under their watchful eyes, I walked quickly down the narrow path and stepped into the cavern. The scent of jasmine and the warmth of the sun vanished behind me, replaced by the damp, cloying smell of rot and decay. My heart began to hammer against my ribs. And then I saw him. At the end of the passage, a powerfully built man sat on a throne carved from stone. My heart nearly leaped out of my chest. "Are you… the Patron?" The man didn't move. He made no sound. As I drew closer, I could see his head was tilted back slightly, his chest rising and falling in the shallowest of breaths. Following Martha’s instructions, I knelt and bowed my head to the ground. "Your Bride is here to present her gift," I murmured. "I am Elara of the House of Croft. I am twenty-eight years of age. After tonight, I am your woman." Martha had said the Patron would not unwrap his gift himself. I had to offer myself to him. As a woman of my age, though I had no real experience, I’d done my research. I knew the steps. With every step I took, another piece of my ceremonial gown fell away. By the time I stood before him, I wore nothing but my most delicate underthings. The air in the cave was frigid, and a shiver wracked my body. Martha's words echoed in my mind: The Patron will not move, but his body is warm. You must press yourself against him, use his heat to warm yourself. Otherwise, you won't survive two days in the cold. I reached out and unfastened his clothes. His skin was warm to the touch. A soft moan escaped my lips, and my legs went weak. I practically melted into his arms. "Patron..." I whispered, my lips brushing against his ear. "You're so warm. Won't you hold me?" "I never knew you'd be so handsome," I purred. "If I'd known how good it was to be the Patron's Bride, I never would have let my sister come here last year. She was useless, you know. Only lasted three days before she died. Don't you worry," I whispered, my voice turning husky, "I'm much stronger than she was. I'm sure I can take whatever you dish out." I thought his body felt… pliant. Not stiff and unmoving like Martha had described. Was it because the day was so warm? According to the rules, it was time to proceed to the next step. I pulled his expensive clothes from his body, tossing them carelessly to the floor. Soon, he was as bare as I was. In the dim light filtering from the cave entrance, I could make out the hard planes of his stomach. I couldn't resist pressing my cheek against his eight-pack. "Did my sister touch you here, Patron?" My fingers trailed slowly, deliberately, downwards. "What about here? Did the other Brides touch you here? Did they tell you how… impressive you are?" Was it my imagination, or did I feel a faint tremor run through his body? No, Martha said the Patron never moved. It was up to the Bride to do all the work if she wanted to conceive his child. I took a deep breath, positioned myself over his hips, and lowered myself down. His body bucked upwards in a sharp, involuntary thrust. I was still reeling from the shock of his movement when, in the next instant, the cavern was suddenly filled with people…
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