Chapter 4: Public Execution
1954 Words
Slowly, my eyes creaked open.
The oppressive darkness of the cell immediately closed in on me, and memories of the confrontation surged forward.
"This wretched cell..." I thought bitterly.
Tugging slightly, I felt the ropes binding me once again to the pole.
Dark, intricate symbols, reminiscent of arcane seals, were etched onto my arms. They seemed to be magic cancellers.
Trying to piece together the events leading up to this moment was a blur. 'How long had it been?' Was a question I had pondered during my little time awake.
Desperation began to weigh heavily on me.
The sombre ambience of the cell only deepened my sense of isolation.
Moments of fleeting hope would occasionally flash through my mind—memories of my family, the weight of the responsibilities they had entrusted me with, and the promises I had made.
The cold, hard floor provided no comfort, each chill exacerbating the hopelessness that gripped me. Yet, the very discomfort reminded me that I was alive.
Suddenly, a distinctive sound pierced the oppressive silence, although I couldn't truly pinpoint its exact nature.
Straining my neck, I tried to discern the source of the disturbance. As my eyes adjusted to the dimness, a familiar silhouette became clear: Queen Valerie.
"Lyssa," Queen Valerie's voice was soft, almost melodic, resonating with a gentle authority, "the kingdom's view of you may have changed, but my perception is not so easily swayed."
I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice amidst the overwhelming surprise of her appearance. "Your Majesty, I'm innocent." My voice quivered slightly; it sounded weak.
The Queen walked in front of me; her gaze deepened, analysing me intensely.
"I believe you. It's truly unfortunate how many don't understand the sheer impossibility of procuring a death crystal," she murmured softly, her voice filled with a conviction that caught me off guard, "But my influence is limited in this matter. I've been sidelined for my unconventional views, only truly acknowledged when King Zaphreal supports my words or if I'm punishing criminals. Not to mention my bad reputation before I ever became a queen."
A complex mix of emotions washed over me—gratitude for the Queen's belief, coupled with the bitterness of our mutual helplessness.
A brief silence ensued, punctuated only by the distant sound of footsteps patrolling the dungeon.
"Your Majesty," I began, my voice filled with both trepidation and urgency, "What happens now? If the entire kingdom believes I'm guilty, and even you, with all your power, can't aid me, where do I find hope?"
"Sometimes, Lyssa, hope seeks you out in the darkest of moments. And if not, perhaps you'll find it in another lifetime."
The air in the dungeon grew colder, and for a moment, a melancholic silence prevailed, encapsulating the gravity of the situation.
Queen Valerie then stepped closer, reaching out to touch the arcane seals on my arm. As she did, a gentle warmth radiated from her fingers.
"How did you manage to enter this cell?" I weakly inquired, puzzled.
She met my gaze with an arcane smile, "To put it succinctly, I have the ability to appear wherever I desire—akin to teleportation."
Curiosity piqued, and I ventured another question, "What did you do to get such a bad reputation?"
Queen Valerie simply chuckled lightly in response, a smile dancing upon her lips. Her expression became unreadable, seemingly immersed in recollection.
"There's a lot of things one doesn't do right that can ruin their reputation. I wasn't perfect, and a lot of mistakes had made their way onto my name." She stated casually, her eyes flickering with a hint of amusement.
"I can't imagine the weight of carrying such a reputation." I murmured, empathetically searching her eyes.
Queen Valerie let out another soft chuckle, brushing it off with the grace only she possessed, "It's alright. Reputations can be hard to keep or build, and it's much easier to damage them."
Hesitating for a moment, I mustered the intrepidity to voice the dread gnawing at me, "Your Majesty, what... what will become of my family?"
Queen Valerie paused, pursing her lips as though calculating a response.
"Their loyalty will be questioned," she began, "and it's highly likely that they're currently facing interrogation, perhaps even t*****e, because they didn't report you as a 'traitor' before the kingdom found out."
The lump in my throat grew, and I felt a surge of helplessness. My eyes welled up with tears, and my jaw trembled uncontrollably. The cruel reality of the kingdom's justice system became all too apparent.
Queen Valerie took a step closer, her expression sombre, acknowledging the pain her words had inflicted.
"Don't lose hope just yet, Lyssa." She whispered.
As her words faded, I became sharply attuned to the growing sound of chains clinking and echoing footsteps.
It seemed as though time slowed, each second stretching into an agonising eternity as I awaited what was to come next.
A sudden gust of icy air broke my trance, and my eyes darted to the now-empty space where Queen Valerie stood. She left.
The door's rusty hinges creaked and groaned in protest as it swung open, revealing two armoured guards with stern, emotionless expressions.
They didn't need words. Their intentions were clear from their swift approach. Gripping me, their armoured hands felt like steel vices, the coldness seeping through my clothing and digging cruelly into my skin.
As I was yanked to my feet and forced to move, an overwhelming sense of desolation consumed me.
Was there any shred of hope left? Any inkling of a future where I could rise from these ashes?
The sounds of the outside began to filter in—the chirping of the evening cicadas, the innocent laughter of children playing without a care, and the distant murmurs of townsfolk going about their daily chores.
It all seemed so normal, so at odds with the personal nightmare I was living.
As we approached the execution centre, the overbearing walls seemed to close in, and a pervasive sense of dread filled the atmosphere.
The sounds of decrying were faint but growing louder with every step. Each echo was a haunting reminder of what was about to come.
When we finally broke into the execution centre's clearing, the scene before me was worse than I had imagined.
I was met with a sea of faces, some twisted in anger, others showing sympathy, but all fixated on the tragic tableau at the centre: my family, displayed as criminals.
Their eyes were now wide with terror, tainted by a sense of betrayal that wasn't of their making.
What gutted me were the unmistakable signs of torment. Brutal whip marks that showcased the kingdom's unquenchable wrath, fingers bereft of nails, a testament to their resilience under t*****e, and the sickening sight of their severed tongues, evidence of their stolen voices.
Each mark was a silent story of their unwarranted suffering.
As they were paraded for all to see, my gaze landed on the arcane seals marking their arms. I recognised them instantly—they were identical to the ones I bore, rendering them as powerless as I was.
Tears streaming down Amara's face broke me. She didn't deserve this.
The murmurs of the crowd reached my ears, a mix of disdain, pity, and morbid curiosity.
Whispers of treachery, rumours of my supposed deeds, and heated debates about my family's involvement filled the air.
I watched as my family was dragged onto the stage, with the females' arms tied to poles and the males having a rope placed around their necks. They were forced to face the crowd, their faces filled with fear and uncertainty.
A guard approached the stage. Their words, formal and impersonal, resounded with the weight of finality, "For your betrayal towards the kingdom and the possession of a highly dangerous and illegal item, you have all been sentenced to death."
With that, the ropes were severed, and the ravenous flames leapt upwards with a voracious hunger. Simultaneously, the chilling echo of the gallows' platform releasing resonated as the nooses swiftly did their grim work.
As the flames crackled and wood hissed, the haunting, tormented screams of my family filled the air.
Every shriek, every agonised wail, cleaved deeper into my already shattered heart.
Within this tempest of horror, a singular, poignant image emerged.
Amara.
Her eyes, brimming with tears, locked onto mine, conveying a depth of unsayable emotion.
The intensity of our shared gaze bridged the inferno between us, creating a moment of understanding amidst the chaos.
The crowd, a sea of faces from all walks of life, reacted with a diversity of emotions. Some, with cruel grins plastered on their visages, shouted with s******c pleasure, carousing in the tragic spectacle before them.
Yet, as I scanned the vast sea of faces, searching for some semblance of understanding or an ally in this time of despair, certain faces were conspicuously missing.
Among them was Fides.
Her absence was like a gaping void, a noticeable emptiness amidst the clamour.
Perhaps she felt she had seen enough, or maybe she believed her job was done. Maybe, in her mind, this was the culmination of her desires, her final act of betrayal.
The flames began dying down, and the acrid smell of burnt flesh invaded my nostrils. Every inhalation was a cruel reminder of my family's fate.
I knew that this was it for me. I would soon join them in death.
The scorching meridian sun bore down on me, casting long shadows over the square as I was dragged up to the wooden pole, where I would eventually be burned alive.
An oppressive sense of finality gripped my heart, and the chilling realisation of my impending doom dawned on me. It felt like a colossal anchor, heavy and unyielding, dragging me into an abyss of despair and sorrow.
"Please, I don't want to die... I want to be like mother..." I cried internally.
Around me, the crowd's jeers and taunts escalated, merging into a deafening culmination of acrimony.
Their voices, warped by hatred and disdain, seemed to encase me, a choking smog intent on suffocating every last bit of hope.
I made an effort to hold my head high and remain unbroken before those who revelled in my downfall. But the bombardment of rocks and stones, hurled by hands that once hoped for my success, made it difficult.
I could hear the cruel laughter of some, while others watched in sombre silence, their faces a mixture of pity and indifference.
Before I could react, a dagger, tossed with chilling precision, narrowly missed its mark, instead slicing a path across my cheek. The sting of cold steel was immediately followed by the warm trickle of blood, painting a crimson trail down my face.
As the world around me blurred into a dizzying swirl of colours and sounds, my heart clung to the memory of Fides. Her betrayal, the shocking pivot that had set me on this tragic path, seemed to overshadow everything else.
"Fides," I whispered, recalling her betrayal, "In the depths of your soul, if there remains a shred of decency, a glimmer of conscience, strive to find redemption... Be a better person."
The light was set.
The flames licked at my skin.
The smell of burning flesh permeated the air.
In my final moments, I felt a slight sense of relief wash over me. I knew that I would soon join my family, and the injustices of this world would fade away.
The flames intensified.
They ate away at my clothes and charred my skin.
Pain pierced my very existence.
But it all slowly receded.
The world turned black as searing heat wrapped around the remains. Soon enough, all was quiet and still.
- Writer
