"You have been chosen, Quetzal," Mother told me one morning.
"Chosen?" I asked. still confused.
"For the sacrifice. The gods have been angry. You have been chosen."
It took a moment for the truth to dawn upon me. I stepped back, and pressed against the wall of our home.
"Quetzal," she sighed. "I love you. But this is something you have to do."
When they came for me, I didn't fight. I'd accepted that this was fate, and things happen for a reason. So when they cut open my chest and tore my heart out, I didn't make a sound.