Estel, the elf, felt the chill of death creeping into her bones. It was an old, familiar sensation, a specter that had haunted her village since time immemorial. Today, it was her turn to be the sacrifice. Her heart pounded like a trapped bird against her ribs, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the chaos within her. The thought of her people, their innocent lives snuffed out like candles in a storm, was a weight that crushed her spirit. She knew the consequences of defiance. In the past, those who had tried to flee had met with far worse fates than her own. The village, a fragile oasis in a world of shadows, would be obliterated if she failed to fulfill her grim duty.

Despair gnawed at her as she resigned herself to the inevitable. The sacrificial altar loomed in her mind's eye, its cold stone a stark contrast to the warmth she craved. Then, a flicker of hope ignited in the darkness. Three figures emerged from the encroaching twilight, their forms indistinct yet filled with a sense of purpose. Their words, cutting through the thick silence, offered no lifeline: "Estel, it’s time"