𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞 (ʳᵒᵗᵗᵐⁿᵗ; ᵈᵒⁿᵃᵗᵉˡˡᵒ)

𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.

—what started it all—

❝ hellfire. dark fire. ❞

———————

   SHE stood as a captive in complete disbelief. How could the citizens be so cruel and gullible all at the same time, how could a crowd of hundreds stand around cheering in preparation for her demise? Her very painful demise that was to come within minutes.

The blue of her irises appeared to glow in midst of the twilight hour. She focused on the face glaring down at her. Every person here was so convinced that she was the witch, that she was a demon, that SHE was part of the unholy, when truly—the man who they should all be terrified of stood in front of her.

The sorcerer stood strong, a stake lit on fire in his grasp. From beyond the cheers, she could just faintly make out the screams and begs for the trial to cease. Her attention fell to her sobbing mother being held back by the guards and secondly to a poorly baker's son.

His messy hair was strewn everywhere, a wild look in his eye as he was held back by three guards. He—Victor—tried to fight his way to her, to his best friend, but alas, he was far too overpowered.

Eloise and Victor made eye contact—bright blue meeting eccentric green. Eloise gifted him a very sad smile and Victor fought harder. It seemed the only ones to know the truth in this vast crowd of people were all but four.

Eloise, her mother, Victor, and the dastardly man who was the cause of this. Eloise was forced to turn away from Victor, a cool hand gripping her chin tightly. The evil sorcerer was not gentle with her, instead choosing to admire her beauty for what would be the last time.

He moved his hand away from her chin and stroked her long syrup-colored hair almost lovingly. She had such beautiful hair, it was long, very thick, and it spiraled in loose curls. Should the sunlight hit it in just the right way, one might catch a few strands of red.

Her eyes were also something to behold, a shimmering clear pond that reminded one of a sunny day. And her skin, baked to perfection under hours of dancing in the sun. Not to mention, her gorgeous face would entrance a man.

The sorcerer sighed in disdain upon studying her, he truly would miss such a beauty. She was a rare one, a gem to be held with the utmost care and one that only came once in a lifetime.

But perhaps it did not need to be this way. Maybe her story did not need to end in such a tragedy? Would she change her mind?

"I give you one last choice," Eloise remained stonefaced at the cold tone of the warlock, "choose me or the fire..."

How had her story come to be this way? Yes, she knew that she was lucky when it came to looks, but she was nothing special at all. There were dozens of much more beautiful women in the crowd alone. Women who would happily swoon and love the warlock to no end.

But not her. Not Eloise. Never Eloise. And that would not change now, even if her life was to end because of it.

She chose the fire.

Eloise gathered the biggest loogy of her life and hacked it straight onto his face. Slowly, he brought his hand not clutching the stake of fire up, and wiped the substance away. People in the crowd gasped upon seeing this, many murmurs of "witch!" being thrown around.

Unfortunately, to the sorcerer, such beauty was also ridden with far too much arrogance and wildness.

How could one man (the only sorcerer for miles!) convince an entire town that this innocent young girl was a witch? And it was all because she was immune to his charm. Because she refused to marry him, to spend the rest of her life as his.

Just the thought made her shudder. Yes, she would rather burn.

Eloise stood straighter, or as straight as she could in the bonds. She glared down at the monster, her back itching uncomfortably on the wooden stake behind her.

The sorcerer shook his head, it mattered not. The spell—curse—was already done and cast upon her. He would meet her once more. And if she refused him again, then she would face the same fate, and he would try again. And again. And again. Until she chose right.

Even in death, she would never escape him.

Turning to the crowd with flare, he all but growled, "The witch has refused to recant, and so her fate is sealed!"

The crowd howled, her mother's scream ripped louder, and her best friend fought harder.

"Eloise Thomas, for your crimes and dabbling in the dark arts, you are sentenced to death..." he paused dramatically, "by fire!"

Everyone roared, and the sky turned dark. It got louder as he set the stake on fire down to her feet.

Eloise watched as the flames licked closer and closer to her body. She looked up with one last glare.

"I will never be yours," she spat.

And then, she prayed, and she prayed hard.

"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven..." her voice shook, and as the flames finally met her feet—she screamed.

Her roar tore from her throat and echoed for miles. The sound was painted with a pain that many others would never know.

Eloise could feel the fire burning her to a crisp, and it danced up her body with no remorse. Everything in her crumbled and baked, she screamed louder, begging to die, begging for the pain to stop.

The crowd was hollering, some cheering while few wept. Victor stopped fighting, his mouth pulling as sobs racked through his body. Eloise's mother was broken, falling to her knees and wailing just as loud, if not louder than her poor daughter.

And then the flames covered Eloise's face, and her screaming ceased, for the pain was too much and her body could handle no more. She was dead and her body turned black as her skin transformed to ash.

The sorcerer smiled, "I will see you again, Eloise..."

❝ but she will be mine, or
she will burn. ❞