The ropes bite into my wrists as I stumble behind the horse, forced upward along the winding mountain path. My father leads the way, his back rigid with what I can only assume is sorrow. The guards flank me, their armor glinting cruelly in the sunlight that I may never see again after today.

We reach the altar at last - a flat stone platform perched on the cliff's edge, overlooking the churning sea far below. My father cuts the ropes binding me, his fingers surprisingly gentle as he rubs healing oil into my abraded skin.

"It will only hurt for a moment," he says, his voice breaking despite his attempts at stoicism. I want to scream at him, to demand why it had to be me chosen by the lottery, but what words could change fate?

He leaves with the guards, the sound of their retreat echoing against the cliffs until only the ocean's roar remains. I lie naked on the cold stone, shivering not from fear but anticipation as I stare into the swirling whirlpool far below.

The moment the horn's final echo fades, the sea erupts. From the center of the vortex rises a colossal form - a three-headed sea god with eyes of gold, red, and royal purple. Each head dwarfs me, yet I find myself reaching upward, unafraid.

The massive creature climbs the cliffs with impossible grace, its serpentine neck arching toward me. I feel my breath catch as it looms above, all three heads regarding me with hungry curiosity. Its scales shimmer like liquid moonlight, and when it speaks, the voice resonates inside my mind rather than my ears.

"You are not afraid," it observes, a statement rather than a question. The golden head dips lower, its warm breath washing over me like the summer tide.

I lift my hand to touch its velvety muzzle, marveling at the impossible softness of its skin. "You're beautiful," I whisper, the truth of the words catching in my throat.

A rumble of pleasure shakes the altar beneath me. The red-eyed head, ringed with writhing tentacles, nuzzles against my side, its barbed tongue flicking out to taste my skin. I gasp at the sensation - not painful, but unexpectedly arousing.

Before I can process what's happening, those same tentacles wrap around my thighs, spreading me open beneath the towering god. I should be terrified, should be fighting for my life. Instead, I find myself arching upward,渴望 more of his divine touch.

The purple-eyed head, the largest and most regal, dips close to my face. "What name do they call me, little one?"

"Hannibal," I breathe, the sacred word trembling on my lips.

He purrs, a sound that vibrates through my entire body. "And what shall I call you, beautiful boy with oceans in your eyes?"

I swallow hard, acutely aware of how exposed I am, how vulnerable. Yet when I speak, my voice sounds surprisingly steady: "Whatever you wish, my god."

Hannibal's golden eyes flare with hunger. "I think I shall call you... mine."

A tentacle slides against my entrance, and I gasp as I feel myself yielding to its intrusion. The stretch is intense yet somehow perfect, as if my body was created for this very purpose. Hannibal's heads loom above me, each expressing different aspects of his divine desire - curiosity, hunger, and something softer that I dare not name.

"Tell me, sacrifice," he murmurs as the tentacle begins to move inside me, "do you wish to die today... or live forever?"