"BURN THE WITCH!"
"BURN THE WITCH!"
"BURN THE WITCH!"
The square was overcrowded with commoners and nobles alike. Despite the vulgar chant, the square was lively with festive activity, all surrounding the main attraction — a woman bound and gagged to a wooden stake.
Sereia examined the woman from afar.
Her chestnut brown hair was matted with dried blood, bruises and cuts painted her face and one of her eyes was swollen shut. The most evident thing about her appearance was her round belly which protruded blatantly through the thin and flimsy fabric.
The woman's name was Mariam, a commoner from a nearby village. As far as Sereia could tell, the woman was human; she couldn't feel a single bit of magic power from her.
From her sources, Mariam had reportedly rejected a low-ranking noble's vulgar advances. She even called him a pervert and said that he had a fetish for pregnant women.
To the noble, it was a crime that warranted death and so he fabricated the story of her being a witch. They held her for a week in an underground dungeon and violated her in every way they could think of and even advertised her execution as a festival for all to view.
That was the thing about humans; violence was nothing more than entertainment to them.
Mariam's husband was in the crowd. The nobleman had forced him to be front and center to watch as his wife and unborn child burn.
"Jackson!" Through her tears and fear-stricken face, Mariam catches his eye. "Save me! Save our child! Our baby is innocent!"
Someone in the crowd spits at her and jeers, "Kill the witch baby!"
Soon, the crowd catches on and the chant is ignited.
"KILL THE WITCH BABY!"
"KILL THE WITCH BABY!"
Mariam's husband hangs his head in defeat.
It was the straw that broke the camel's back. A sob rips through Mariam's throat and with her already wild appearance, she takes the appearance of a shrew.
Spit flings from her mouth as she shouts at the crowd of people below her, "You evil demons! I'll meet you all in hell to avenge my child, you'll never have a second of peace! Evil bastards, evil—!"
"She's cursing us! The witch is cursing us!"
The executioner smacks Mariam so hard that she's visibly disoriented. Blood dribbles from her mouth and she is quickly gagged.
The nobleman finally takes the stand, a torch in hand. Sereia recognizes him as Baron Hans, a young and arrogant man who recently took over the title from his father.
He had solidified his presence in higher society by hunting down witches in droves and was even praised by the King. He had killed dozens of witches over the past few months but he killed even more innocent women paraded as witches for the crime of daring to offend his fragile ego.
"Do not worry," Baron Hans addressed the crowd, "This witch can no longer bring harm, I assure you. For those of you afraid, hungry, and poor, hear me now; with every witch that we burn the closer we are to achieving a perfect world. A world without worry, sickness, or hunger…a world without witches. And for any witches that may be listening, understand that your reign of terror will soon come to an end."
For a moment, Sereia felt as if he was staring straight at her, through the packed crowd. "For each and every one of you, I will hunt you down without rest until you no longer plague our God-given Earth."
"Now, let the festivities begin, shall we?" Baron Hans ended his speech with a smile and the crowd cheered while many young ladies swooned. She had to admit, he was quite charismatic. Too bad he was the scum of the Earth and a pervert with a pregnancy fetish.
The baron dropped the torch at Mariam's feet and within seconds, she was enveloped in flames. Her husband nearly fell to his knees when her screams ripped through the square, anguish drowning his expression but the baron's men forcibly kept him upright.
The crowd laughed. People bought festive food, children danced and sang, and music was played by street performers. While an innocent woman and her unborn child burned at the stake, people celebrated.
Subtly, Sereia flicked her fingers and Mariam's screams of torment died abrutly. She had quickly used a mixture of two spells; one that sent the receiver into a deep sleep and another that made pain nonexistent for half an hour.
Rest in peace, Mariam.
It was a risky move, one that could have easily been noticed if there were a more experienced witch hunter nearby but at the very least, she couldn't just sit back and do nothing. She was a Haven Keeper, after all. It was her job to protect witches, even if Mariam was not.
Sereia can't stomach another second in this crowd. She pulls up her hood and leaves.
"Has she died so quickly?" Baron Hans wonders aloud. Usually, he would be able to relish in their torment for a few minutes at most. This time, however, it seemed as if she had died almost instantly and he could no longer hear her. Perhaps…
Baron Hans looked over the crowd but he did not notice anything out of place. Maybe he thought too much. After all, there was not a single witch that could escape his sight, that he was sure of.
——
——
Sereia's home was deep in the forest, concealed by magic and hanging on the edge of Aetheria's border. It was a cozy little cabin that was left behind by her mother who enchanted various protection spells on it. Her home was the one thing she cherished more than life itself.
However, her home wasn't really her own. She was a Haven Keeper, part of a community of witches that secretly housed other illegal witches while they traveled to the only place they would be safe: Lumindale, the land of magic.
"Isadora, you here?" Sereia called as she placed down the bag of various herbs she obtained from town. She went through the cabin, pulling the curtains shut. The sun was beginning to set.
Isadora was the last witch she would ever house. In a week, she would pack up and leave for Lumindale herself since Aetheria had gotten too dangerous lately.
"Isadora?" She called again when she got no response. She assumed that Isadora had left again which she did quite often as she insisted on gathering her own supplies or just getting fresh air.
Sereia occasionally warned her not to go too far or be out too late because of the dangers but she wouldn't force her; she was simply a safe haven, not a babysitter for hardheaded witches. Besides, she usually returned on her own before the sun fully set.
Soon, the smell of medicinal herbs began to flood the air.
Sereia was busy tending to the stove, carefully making medicines for the long journey. As a Haven Keeper, her mother had taught her to be prepared for anything.
Alongside the medicines, she had also made a few potions that could restore energy or numb hunger. Lumindale was a month's distance and various safe havens away.
The door to the cabin creaked obnoxiously as it was pushed open.
"Isadora, are you back?" Sereia kept her back to the cabin door as she stirred the pot with iron-clad focus. It would only take a second to mess it up.
"They were doing another witch burning in town today so I got a little held up with all the crowds. I still can't believe that bastard Baron can get away with murdering innocent women and call us evil. The way they all celebrated like it was some joyous occasion… I can't wait to get to Lumindale."
Silence.
"Isadora?" Sereia frowned, setting her spoon down. She carefully lowered the wood stove's flame and turned.
The cabin was empty.
Because she had drawn the curtains earlier, the cabin was also relatively empty aside from the small flickering light she had lit in a lantern.
Sereia might have just passed it off as her mistakenly mishearing things; old cabins creak and groan all the time. But there was another presence in the cabin, an unfamiliar one that exuded magic power.
There was another witch in the cabin that was not Isadora — and it wasn't friendly.
The attack spell she was gearing up to cast hadn't even left the tip of her fingers when a searing hot pain stabbed her head and her body crumbled to the floor.