Bloodline of Mayan Gods: Betrothed in Shadows, Bound by Blood

I awoke in the chaos of my burnt-out village, I could hear the moans and groans of those around me who lay dying, my heart heavy with dread. I did my best to remain hidden, my pulse racing, when they reached where I lay hidden under several burnt corpses. They had brutally beaten and torched everyone and everything in my village except for the young females, who had been shoved into cages on top of wagons, a sight that filled me with fear as I watched them ride away with the girls, silent with shock and tear-filled faces.

The entire village was in ruins, everyone was either dead or gone. I felt utterly alone. I could barely breathe. When I finally pulled myself free, I began searching for my father. My mom had died years ago; he was all that I had left. I stumbled over dead bodies and those who lay dying, my emotions raw. I finally saw him, struggling to take his last breaths, sitting propped up against a smoldering tree, my world crumbled. 

“Daddy!” I ran to him, my heart racing. He could barely open his eyes, but a faint smile hinted that he knew it was me. His smile quickly turned into a grimace of pain, “Go, Syla, hurry, run to the King!” he gasped, struggling for air. I shook my head no, tears streaming down my face as I tried to be strong. 

“I can't leave you, Daddy, I won't!” but he insisted, his voice weak but urgent, “Go, go now! It’s not safe for you here… Run, child!” His face and body were horribly burnt, and with his final effort, he whispered, “I-I love you… Forgive me for not telling you the truth; I just wanted to keep you to myself a little longer.”

I looked at him in confusion. It must be the shock and head injuries..I thought..

“I love you too, Daddy!” I whispered back, holding him close to me as he closed his eyes for the last time. His body slumped as his last breath escaped from his lips.

I held my father's lifeless body well into the night until the sound of approaching horses broke the silence. I quickly gathered what little I could salvage from the ruins of my village in the dark, then I set out, staying hidden just off the road.  The King's Pyramid was at least a full day's walk from my small village.

I was drained and thirsty. My Father’s last words kept playing over and over in my mind as I walked.

I quickly darted between bushes when a group of riders thundered past me. Unsure if they were the king's soldiers or ruthless rogues. I watched as the last horse passed, I shifted—and a branch snapped beneath my bare foot.

I froze.

Too late.

They turned as one, horses wheeling, hooves tearing the ground as they came for me. I ran through dense woods and tangled undergrowth, my lungs burning, my father’s blood still warm on my clothes. Mud caked my skin. Thorns tore at my face and arms as I pushed harder, faster, in desperation, in a state of panic, my survival mode fully activated.

Just as I thought I’d escaped, a brutal hand fisted in my hair, yanking me backward, pain exploding across my scalp.

“Got you,” his voice snarled, his voice close to my ear, thick with satisfaction.

Rough hands bound me quickly, wrists, ankles, tight with precision, as I fought with what little strength I had left. The ropes tore at my skin.

I was hauled up and thrown over a saddle like cargo, my world flipping upside down as laughter followed from the men.

“This one will fetch a fine price,” he said. “And if not, I’ll keep her for myself.” He said, rubbing his bulge. I lay there watching, too terrified to move, his horse shifting beneath my body. 

I lay frozen, my breath shallow, terror humming through every nerve as the forest blurred past me. Each step of his horse carried me to whatever fate waited for me, in the dark.

The ride felt endless, repeated jolts of the horse driving the pain deeper into my bones. Through blurred vision, I caught sight of the king’s pyramid rising in the distance.. Heavy stones cutting into the sky, half-swallowed by towering trees and snake-like vines that curled, clinging to the stones. Even from afar, the place radiated power and dread. My heart raced with a mix of fear and uncertainty.

These men weren’t from here.

I could tell because they didn't fear what was behind those walls.

Outsiders. Filthy Traders.. Foolish men who definitely didn’t have enough smarts not to trespass into our kingdom. My gaze swept the roadside, searching for a familiar face, a sign of help, anyone who I might recognize, or who would recognize me, despite my ropes and filth. But I saw only strangers and silence, faces that knew not to stare too long.

The pyramids loomed closer, their shadows stretching long and dark. Fear curled tight in my chest. Hope battled with dread. Would there be someone within those walls who could help me… or would stepping inside seal my fate?

Our king was known as the ‘Ripper.’

He didn’t like strangers. He despised traders. Whispers clung to his name, of blood-soaked conquests and forbidden unions spoken of only in hushed tones. His hunger was legendary. His mercy, nonexistent.

As we crossed into the grounds, the air shifted, heavy, charged. I was dragged into a grand hall already crowded with voices and movement. Filthy traders filled the space with other girls tied and bound as well as beasts, guarded and watched by the King's warriors and servants who kept their eyes carefully lowered.

I searched desperately, but I recognized no one.

King Rryan motioned for him to move towards the throne.

The man who had captured me, a burly brute with a scar carved from his brow to his chin, drugged me forward, forcing me to my knees.

“Found this one near the burned village just beyond your kingdom,” he said, his voice carrying through the hall. “Figured she might be worth something,” he said, smiling, his rotten teeth showing. I could smell that he hadn’t bathed in months, a vile figure.

My gaze lifted despite myself.

Above me sat a massive, imposing figure upon a throne carved of black stone skulls and bone. He was still, almost unnervingly so, as if the noise and movement around him were beneath notice. Power clung to him like a living thing, heavy, suffocating, undeniable.

This was him.

The Vampyr King.

The Ripper.