Mirrored in Her

1| Inked red

Within the next few moments, a head would roll down the podium—the one I had bought.

The city of Kertneigh fluttered with life; markets were in full swing. The painted sky gazed upon them, an ornament for the earth. Shouts from saccharine vendors were ingratiating, beckoning for rich eyes and overflowing pockets. Unburned lanterns hung above, ready for the rush of the night and their colors—a mush of rainbows. Bread, fruits, and roasted meat of all kinds—rabbits, deer, hens, and goats—overpowered the heavenly smell of flowers on fabrics.

I trudged through them, my weight pressing down on the cobbled stones that hid the ground, as I avoided scraps of fallen food devoured by the poor and unlucky. The tap dancers and living statues were lauded in the center of the market square. The grand structure of Verilea towered ahead, where the executioner's stand stood stark against the vibrant backdrop, a grim reminder of justice served in blood. People meshed together, many on their toes, necks outstretched, while others simply stood above.

The purple uniform that clad me, boring the insignia of the Emperor, was enough to push past the horde of people crowded near the executioner's stand. Tension cracked like an electric whip, beckoning me to the front as the crowd avoided me like a plague. Fear. It was the strongest scent I have been attached to. And I have always been under it or above it, with the mercy of time, but never away from it.

Kertniegh was full of eyes laden with hope, ears tuned high, and mouths majoring in gossip and the spread of rumors. I headed to my station, my eyes leveled and searching. The crowd hushed as the raised stage of execution bore its guest of the day. A man, with his legs and hands cut and burned, his ears and mouth slashed to a forceful deaf and dump, a pitiful sight. My beautiful handiwork. I bit back a smile.

He was flanked by Ether guards on both sides as they dragged his body. His handicap shrank him to nothing but a bulk of flesh and bones. He quivered at the sight ahead, his fate a blow to his chest. I could see it in his eyes, the betrayal still fresh as he was forced to an end; he had himself written for the damned. For people like me.

When I had captured him, I had made sure to have him draped in the same clothes he had worn when he had crashed into unsuspecting houses and lodged his knives in the throats of Wielders years ago. 'Wielders are the spawns of demons, full of rot they are.' He had laughed at them,. and now fate laughed at him. A cruel deja vu of his past.

The looming and large doors of Verilea Hall opened, and the Emperor's most finely trained pets emerged like victors. They were clad in all black, while one had ornamental gold threaded to the ends of his cot, the ministry. Tension heightened at their presence, their power a grim testimony to the iron grip of the Emperor.

The crowd silenced as the ministry took the stand, their obedient reverence a chilling testament. "Greetings to all the Savorlean subjects." The ministry's voice boomed, echoing through the ears of the hundreds of spectators gathered.

"We have all come together here to witness the never-ending grace of the Emperor. His rise had us all blessed and safe from the abominations that threatened to have us annihilated. The very curse of the earth, the very reason our ancestors had their blood mixed with the soils of our fertile lands."

Everyone bowed in respect, perfectly together—a harmonious wave of heads.

"Today has marked the death of another one of those abominations. A wielder from Frijaia was caught by our talented Ethers. Ether Valyna has the honor of this flawless capture. Another step to our great future."

The man tied to the fate of the Executioner blade squirmed as he saw me emerge. The condemned man's eyes bore into mine. He knew the truth; he knew who truly wielded the beast under their skin. He shook his head mad; his eyes almost bulged out of his head as he tried to point to the crowd of his truth as I stepped to the front for a moment of valour. But amidst the orchestrated spectacle, his actions failed to add rhythm to the tune.