Chapter 53: The Sudden Reversal
Baron Juan droned on, his voice a monotonous litany of fabricated sins. The charges were so absurd, so transparently false, that they were almost comical, a perfect demonstration of a system that decided guilt first and invented the crime later. When his long-winded speech finally neared its end, the Baron raised his voice, his chins wobbling with the effort. "...and so, in accordance with the laws of the Iberian Empire, and by the divine authority of the Holy Inquisition, I sentence you, witch, to death by fire!"
The Iberian Empire? Iberia? The name jolted me. That was the name of the peninsula from my old world, the land that had once been Spain and Portugal. What was that name doing here? But I had no time to ponder the strange familiarity of the word. As the Baron finished his speech, the crowd erupted into a frenzied, bloodthirsty roar. "Burn her! Burn her! Burn her!" The chant rose in waves, a single, monstrous voice baying for death, a cathartic release of all their petty miseries and frustrations, channeled into a shared, righteous hatred for the girl on the cross.
Baron Juan raised his plump hands, a gesture for silence. He was a master of the stage, his voice oozing a false piety that the crowd eagerly lapped up. "Though I am as eager as any of you to see this evil purged from our city," he continued, "I will grant this witch one final chance to repent. This is my final mercy. Confess your sins before God, and beg the Father for forgiveness!" The crowd murmured its approval, praising his "merciful" nature. The executioner, taking his cue, stepped forward and roughly pulled the gag from the witch's mouth.
As he did, I heard the old man beside me cry out in a panic, “Barmy fool! Don't take out the gag! What if she's a real one?!” But his warning was lost in the noise of the plaza. And even if the executioner had heard him, he wouldn't have listened to the ramblings of some old man. The gag was out. I noticed it was a long, cylindrical piece of wood, designed not just to silence, but to cause immense pain, to choke, to suffocate. But as the gag was removed, a strange, horrifying smile, a ghastly rictus of triumph, spread across the witch's spittle-flecked lips. Her mouth opened, and she spoke a few words, too quiet for me to hear over the din of the crowd, a soft, sibilant whisper.
"Look out!" The cry went up simultaneously from the knights, the priests, and the guards surrounding the stage. They drew their weapons and charged forward. But it was too late. A cloud of thick, sickly, green-black smoke erupted from the witch's body, enveloping the stage in an instant. "Cough, cough, cough!" The guards who were closest stumbled back, choking, their hands at their throats. The slower ones collapsed, their bodies convulsing in the foul, spreading mist. The priests pulled the collars of their robes up over their faces. The knights, seemingly impervious to the poison, charged directly into the toxic cloud. And in the next instant… BOOM! A deafening explosion ripped the world apart. It was not a sound, but a physical presence, a concussive blast of force that slammed into me like a battering ram. The world tilted, a chaos of sound and fury, and I was thrown from my seat, Jared and I tumbling to the stone steps. He had reacted instantly, wrapping his body around me, taking the brunt of the impact. I was shaken, bruised, my ears ringing, but largely unharmed.
What had happened? My mind was a chaotic whirl of smoke and noise and confusion. The sudden, violent reversal of the scene was too much to process. Thump. Just then, a large, heavy body, trailing smoke and the smell of cooked meat, landed in the crowd next to us with a sickening, wet crunch. It was the executioner, his leather hood still in place, his body charred and smoking, a gaping, blackened hole torn through his chest. He had been standing on the stage only a moment ago.
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