“So, this is who’s going to die today?” He said. The light glinting off his iron clad sword. The binds on my wrist rub my skin raw as I try to get myself free. Hot tears prick my face as I stare into my executioners eyes.

“Please father, have mercy,” I begged. His eyes looked at me with disgust. The hatred that painted his face was apparent, his brow was tilted downward and a sharp frown tugged at his mouth.

“There is no mercy for you, filthy witch. You had chosen your path, a path that has strayed far from God’s.” He said, malevolence clearly lacing his voice. I screamed.

And screamed.

Screamed until my vocal cords could no longer make a single noise. The executioner looked into my eyes. They did not speak of hatred, they were filled with remorse. I remember the memories. The memories of us sitting in the soft green grass, the memories of me reading a book in a tree and him down below practicing with his sword on a straw dummy.

His rugged hands running up and down my arm as I layed in his lap, rambling on and on about my latest spells, and potions.

“Please, don’t do this,” I pleaded.

“I’m sorry, Miranda. But it is what the father decreed.” He raised his sword above his head. The last sounds I heard before my end were not that of loved ones surrounding my death bed, but that of roaring crowds chanting hurtful slurs and words.

“I love you,” I said, as he swung his sword and the death overcame me.

Tbh I’m not rlly like super proud of this but I’m pretty tired rn lol ❣️