The forest betrayed her.
Her boots caught on a root, sending her crashing into the mud. Before she could rise, rough hands seized her arms, pinning her down. Torchlight flared above, a circle of faces glaring down twisted not by cruelty, but by terror.
"Hold her!" Tomas's father barked, his axe raised. "Tie her hands before she calls the light again!"
Aria thrashed, mud splattering her cloak, but the grip on her arms only tightened. Rope dug into her wrists, burning her skin raw.
"Please stop!" she gasped. "I'm not your enemy!"
Laughter, bitter and cold, rippled through the circle. "That's what the boy said before he betrayed us," one spat. "Blood doesn't lie."
Her chest hollowed. Her brother's shadow lingered even here, poisoning every word she tried to speak.
"Take her to the square," Tomas's father ordered. "We'll let the elders decide her fate. If the curse has claimed her then fire will cleanse what's left."
The crowd murmured grim approval.
Aria's throat closed. Fire. The same way her mother had died her secret wrapped in smoke and ash.
"No," Aria whispered, voice breaking. "Not again."
Dragged through the forest, the torches surrounding her became a prison of flame. Every step jarred her ribs, the rope biting deeper. Faces blurred neighbors she had once smiled at, now strangers. Their silence was worse than their jeers.
Only one face wavered
Tomas, He walked at the edge of the crowd, his jaw tight, hammer still clutched in his hand. His eyes met hers once, just once, before he looked away.
She wanted to hate him for it. But she saw the war in his gaze the pull between blood and fear, between loyalty and doubt.
The village square loomed ahead, muddy and wide. Already others had gathered, roused from their homes. Children clung to mothers, elders leaned on sticks. All of them came to see her chained.
Aria's stomach turned.
They forced her to her knees. The rope around her wrists was tied to the well post, her arms stretched cruelly behind her back. She winced at the pain, but worse was the silence. The way the crowd watched.
The way they waited,
The elders stepped forward.
Three figures draped in dark cloaks, their faces half hidden. They circled her like judges, muttering to one another in low, harsh tones. At last, one raised a hand.
"She carries the light," the elder said. "It marks her blood as tainted. You saw the clash at the roots. The boy was swallowed by shadow. The girl burns with fire. Two halves of a curse."
"No!" Aria's voice cracked, desperation clawing up her throat. "I fought him! I tried to stop him you saw"
"Enough." The elder's voice cut like ice. "If shadow and fire rise, they will consume us all. Better to end it here."
The crowd stirred, Murmurs rose fear, doubt, but also hunger for certainty. Fear demanded a sacrifice.
Tomas's father stepped forward, axe gleaming. "Say the word, and I'll do it."
Aria's pulse thundered. The ropes cut deeper. The villagers pressed closer, their eyes blazing not with hatred, but with something worse: conviction.
Her breath quickened. Panic clawed through her chest. The oak's voice stirred faintly in her blood, whispering, rising.
Stand, or all will fall.
Her hands burned. Light sparked at her wrists, struggling against the ropes.
"Stop…" she begged, tears streaking her cheeks. "Don't make me"
The axe lifted high.
The oak's power surged.
And the ropes began to smoke.