Before the Arrival of Miss Main Event
The night came, and the judge was about to dismiss the case. But Blasphemy's minions swarmed the square, lighting torches everywhere—on rooftops, balconies, windows, and all across the ground. It was hard to believe it was night. Maybe the torches burned brighter than they should have, but nobody cared. It was Blasphemy, of course he had a trick up his sleeve.
Back to the chaos at Sarah's arrival—violent pushing, forcing open a road through the crowd. It was brutal. Screaming rose from young and old, men and women pressed together. It was not a pleasant sound.
Then, the moment Sarah appeared in the distance, a small white dot—the screaming stopped.
She walked slowly. Two steps, pause. Two more steps, pause. She looked right, then left. Then continued: step, step, step, step, stop. Step, step, step, step, stop. Step, step, step, step, stop.
She walked at her own pace, as if she had nothing better to do—which was true. It took her forever to finish crossing South Street, and at last she entered the square. She wore a great white dress, beautiful, like a bride arriving at her wedding.
Inside the square, she moved away from the packed crowd toward a section with more space—the section of the rich. There, people noticed the back of her dress. At first it looked like red paint, tinged with pink. But when they focused, they saw it was blood. Not just on the back—blood pooled around her feet as well. Whispers rose. Had she killed someone? They did not know it was the blood of those crushed when the crowd was forced aside to open her path.
She passed the rich, then the richer, and then the powerful. (They were also rich, so it hardly mattered.) Finally, she stood before the circle of prosecution.
At the stairs, she placed her foot on the first step. The wood creaked under her weight. Slowly, as slowly as possible, she climbed. Step after step—fifteen in all—until she reached the small round platform above. It was narrow, barely enough for one person, with only a plain railing around it.
She set her hand upon the railing, bracing herself. Her face was still hidden under a veil.
The judge's first words were: "Can we see your face?"
She replied: "I do as I please."
The judge raised his hand toward Whistle.
Whistle said: "She broke the sequence. By being late… I must do it again."
Then Whistle whistled once, and his followers joined in.
He whistled a second time, and again they joined.
In the darkness, people could not see—but they heard something fluttering, circling above. They did not know what it was.
After the second whistle, the followers threw a strange liquid with a strong, sharp smell, mixed with something white that looked like seeds.
Then came the third whistle.
Something rushed through the sky, fast, in and out, ghostlike. When it dove, they saw it clearly: a flock of birds. The villagers did not know their kind. They were simply called "birds."
The birds began the executions.
The circle Whistle had drawn for the condemned lay close to the circle of prosecution. Blood splattered onto Sarah's wedding dress—not much, but enough to be seen. The strangest part: every one of the condemned was left headless. Their heads severed clean. Did the birds do this? Nobody knew.
The judge had staged it to frighten Sarah.
When it was done, he asked her again: "Remove your veil."
She answered: "If I did that, I would taste the only thing I love… and maybe lose control."
At those childish words the judge wet himself..