The flames dwindled, but the smoke clung to the square like a curse. Charred banners fluttered, roofs smoldered, and the well post stood scorched black where Aria had been bound.
The villagers gathered in wary clusters, faces streaked with soot and fear. They kept their distance from her, eyes darting as though a single glance might ignite them. No one moved to put out the fires licking the edges of the thatch. All eyes were fixed on her.
Aria swayed on her feet, wrists raw and bleeding where the ropes had burned away. Her chest rose and fell too quickly, each breath sharp with ash. She wanted to speak, to plead, but her throat closed under the weight of their silence.
It was Tomas's father who broke it. He strode forward, axe still in hand, voice ragged from smoke and rage. "You saw it! You all saw it. She is no girl. She is fire. She will burn us all."
A murmur rippled through the crowd agreement, dread, relief that someone had named what they feared.
"No," Tomas said sharply. He stepped between his father and Aria, hammer raised though his hands trembled. "She saved us. You saw the shadows they would've taken the whole square if not for her!"
"Saved us?" his father barked. "She brought them here! She is the curse!"
The villagers roared in fearful approval. A woman clutched her child tighter. An old man spat on the ground.
Aria's stomach twisted. Their stares pierced deeper than ropes or flames. Neighbors she had once laughed with, traded with, trusted now looked at her as if she had already set the pyre herself.
The elders stepped forward, their cloaks still trailing soot. The first one's voice carried over the crowd. "The girl cannot stay. Fire and shadow follow her. Already the Watchers come. If she remains, she will doom us all."
A shout rose: "Exile her!"Another: "Burn her before the forest does!"
Aria flinched, shrinking under the weight of their fury. Every heartbeat screamed at her to run, but her legs rooted to the earth.
Tomas turned, eyes fierce, voice breaking. "She's not the curse! She's fighting it. If you cast her out, you hand her to the shadows."
But the crowd was already shifting fear drowning reason, anger swallowing doubt.
One of the elders lifted a staff, striking it against the ground. "Decide before the night is gone. Fire cannot live among us."
The words struck like a sentence.
Aria's vision blurred, tears mixing with ash. The ground beneath her seemed to sway, the world tilting as if to throw her out itself.
The oak's voice stirred faintly, hollow, pained. Stand, or fall.
But this time, the choice wasn't hers. It was theirs. And their eyes told her exactly what they had chosen.