Moon of Sacrifice

Excerpt From: Moon of Sacrifice

Seraynian Dimension

Her offence had been discovered. How could such pleasure sour so quickly?

Latah Donovan clenched her hands into small, tight fists and inhaled a deep breath through her nose. The stagnant air did nothing to calm her chaotic state of mind. Hadn’t the meeting in the High Council chambers been called in order to force an unwilling confession from her? Or had she missed an important word in the announcement she’d found tacked to the board in her work area which hadn’t even mentioned her name? Or had Gellas discovered her solitary hobby to uncover his lies, which would’ve resulted in more Seraynians being forced from the only homes they’d ever known for the erroneous belief that the planet laid in an unstable dimension? Was the uneasiness churning away in her gut due to her fear of detection or her overactive imagination?

Today, under the high raftered ceiling, her father and mother stood beside her, patience etched onto their weary faces. For them, this was just another meeting filled with official state business that meant next to nothing. Agara, Latah’s younger sister, wrapped her arms around herself and stamped her feet emphasising the apathy of the large, gathered crowd.

At the front of the room, Gellas, the High Council leader sat, his golden eyes rheumy, as he wheezed louder than ever, almost as if he’d keel over at any moment. At times, he coughed a loud, hacking sound, and covered his mouth with his gnarled hand. Perhaps the mental exertion involved in standing up in a packed room was getting to be too much for him. But despite her fears, he didn’t look directly at Latah.

She exhaled in relief. Then the meeting couldn’t have been called to reveal her forbidden journeys. No, the assembly was for some other reason. A new dread began to curl thick tentacles around her throat, constricting her airflow. Why had Gellas and his council of two men, who would most likely succeed him as the next leaders, ordered every Seraynian to the area?

Latah surreptitiously scanned the room. As usual, Sanias of her generation was there, his arms folded across his massive chest, his eyes roaming over everyone and nothing. A frown of disapproval marking his features, he seemed to survey all as if they were the enemy.

Dragging her gaze from him, Latah watched as Gellas clutched at the elaborate chair’s armrests, laboured to his feet and cleared his throat several times. The assembled Seraynians fell into a hushed, expectant silence. Feet shuffled and a baby wailed before its mother frantically quieted it.

Gellas spoke, his voice hoarse with age. “I have spent the better part of my life serving you. I have done everything in my power to increase your numbers, to prevent outsiders from ruining our pure heritage. Sometimes, I feel I have failed, but I have been devoted to you all. From your end, disloyalty to the Seraynian people is not an option.”

Latah’s father gasped, as did several others standing nearby. Allegiance was a problem on the planet? How was that possible? Was this another of the stories Gellas was fabricating in preparation for the succession to his position after his death? Latah had begun to see that the old man didn’t desire what was best for the people, but what was the greatest good for himself. He would muddle the High Council and the Seraynian people, civil war would break out in which everyone took sides, and when the bloodshed and bickering were over, he would go down in the history books as the greatest leader the land had ever known, especially given that the resulting turmoil would leave only good memories of the days when he had ruled in unopposed peace.

“If we cannot act as a united group,” Gellas continued, “then we cannot save our dimension.”