I wrapped my arm around her slim waist, wanting to offer her comfort and winced with the effort, but I needed Acenith to know I was there to support her, to listen. If she could be brave enough to live through it, I could be brave enough to listen.
“They began what was known as the trial by ordeal by pricking; using a long, sharp knife to penetrate the skin. If you had an area that was pricked and it didn't bleed, you were a witch. Even if you bled from every place on your body, the accusations didn't go away. The next step was to burn my skin with red-hot pokers. If the injuries healed within three days, you were a witch. If it didn't heal, you were innocent. Of course, in my situation, I didn't heal, but Father Jaquille needed me to die, so each time I passed one of their so-called test
