Harper's Pathos

Chapter Five: Raging Fires

-art by percvalx

"She's done the work of a devil! To hells with all the ceremony, burn the warlock already!" the screams of the crowd felt like blades to Morgan's eardrums. The whole village was calling for her death. From every direction, farmers and peasants shouted sentiments of hatred and scorn, accusations and insults. She stood tied to a stake in the town square, her head slouched forward and her hair hung disheveled around her face. Her garb was little more than a gray burlap sack: that of a prisoner.

A priest stood beside her, one that supposedly spoke for the goddess Cira. If it weren't Morgan tied to the pyre, she might find it laughable. Did these fools really think the mother goddess would call for her children to kill one another, especially in a manner as cruel as burning? 'Perhaps I shouldn't expect so much from people stupid enough to think the gods are still listening,' the girl thought to herself. Regardless, she knew no amount of criticizing their logic would save her from this. 

The crowd began to quiet down as the priest shouted over them, "This young woman you see before you," he began his speech, gesturing dramatically to Morgan, "Has drifted away from the light of our beloved gods. No angels come now to claim her, only infernal devils of Kyriden's design! She was found in the forest, stained with the blood of an innocent: a girl by the name of Elizabeth. She has also been long suspected of dark practices. Suspicious activities in cemeteries and gathering of strange materials, no doubt for insidious spells, and tomes filled with forbidden knowledge and unholy symbols!"

How many times had she explained herself? How many times had she explained what her runes meant? How many times had she told them that her rituals in the graveyards were only meant to protect the village from malicious spirits? How often had she proclaimed her love of Ellie, that she would never harm her? 'It was that blue-eyed boy that killed her, not me! Fools. Idiots, all of them,' she thought, 'if I could sacrifice this whole blasted village to bring her back, I would. I wish I could take back every blessing, every ritual, every spell I ever cast for the protection of this stain of a town.'

"With this evidence in mind," the priest continued, "She stands accused of being a warlock and a practitioner of evil magics. She also stands accused of murder in the first degree." He turned to her then, his beady eyes visible through Morgan's black locks, "How do you plea?" Morgan said nothing. She refused to give these cretins even the satisfaction of a reply. "Very well," the priest's voice boomed, "The sentence is death." 

The crowd cheered as the priest slowly lowered his torch to the pyre. The flame spread quickly and was soon nipping at the bottoms of Morgan's feet. "With this fire, return to the wastes from which you came! Return to the hells of Infernia where you belong!"

Not much time had past before the flames began to lick at the necromancer's legs. Blinding pain began to bite away at her. She clenched her jaw, bit her lip until it bled. She wouldn't scream. She refused. She couldn't give them that. Pain traveled farther up her legs as amber flame crept ever higher. She coughed as smoke and soot began to choke her, smothering her lungs and forcing breathing to become an arduous task.

 She tried to distract herself from the agony of this moment by scanning the crowd. Faces filled with anger and disgust surrounded her. There were men, women, children all screaming, cheering for the fire that scorched her flesh. Hate bubbled up in her mind for each and every one of them. One in particular, however, caught her eye: a boy with dark hair and sapphire eyes.

"You..." she whispered so quietly that none could hear it, but with such disdain and boiling hate that all in the crowd could feel it. He was the one who took Ellie from her. He was the reason she was burning. He was her personal devil: a malignant growth on her very soul from which she could never escape.