Malefica; Stiles Stilinski [3]

Prologue

Prudence sat in front of her mother as she brushed her long, black hair. Prudence was almost eighteen years of age, meaning by orders of the reverend, she should be wedded by a young man soon.

"Prudence," her mother called.

"Yes, mother?" she replied, turning to her.

"I need you to promise me something," she said. "I need you to promise me that you'd never do anything that would be against your will."

She smiled, wondering why she would ask such a sudden question. "I promise, mother. Why ask me this so suddenly?"

Her mother couldn't answer as there was a loud banging at the door of their home. Her eyes landed on the door, standing up as soon as the banging started. She stared at it as if she knew what was coming for her.

"Stay here," she said before walking to open the door.

She opened the door ever so slightly, but then the person on the other side of it pushed the door wide open, causing her to jump back. Prudence stood up from the floor, trying to see what was going on.

"Cynthia Malefica," the reverend boomed. "By the people of this town, you are under the accusation of witchcraft. How do you defend yourself?"

"Witchcraft?" Cynthia questioned in disbelief. She shoved her way past the reverend, causing the townspeople who were watching gasp. "How dare you accuse me of such things! I am not a witch, nor do I practice any form of witchery!"

"But you knew what the constellations were! You knew how to read the stars!" a man yelled from the crowd.

"Just because I am smarter than the men in this village doesn't mean I am a witch! I am simply just a woman gifted with intelligence. More intelligence than any of the wretched men who claim to know more than I do about the stars! You are all ridiculous!"

Scattered gasps were released from the crowd. She quickly shut her mouth, realizing that she had practically dug her own grave.

"I apologize for my crude language, but I do not apologize for simply defending myself from these absurd assumptions."

"Cynthia Malefica!" the reverend said, coming forward and meeting her cold, blue eyes. "Your defense means nothing! You are a witch, working under the oath of the devil, and you will meet your execution and be hanged when the sun sets! Restrain her!"

Some men from the crowd came forward with ropes and forcefully grabbed her wrists. Cynthia didn't even bother to struggle out of them or run, knowing it would just make her look worse. The best thing that she could do was cooperate and accept her fate.

Even though the townspeople thought they knew the truth, her and Prudence were the only ones that did.

Cynthia was truly not a witch.

--

The sun was finally set. It was time for Cynthia's execution.

The men of the town council - which was all men anyway - dragged Cynthia out of the town house where she was being kept.

Prudence watched from afar in terror. Her mother had always told her the cruelty some people would have, but she didn't want to believe it. Now, she was doubting her beliefs as they were going to hang her mother who was undoubtably innocent.

She watched as they wrapped the noose around her neck. They tightened it until it reached the back of her neck securely before walking away.

The reverend went up to her. "Confess now, witch. Confess and maybe the lord will take mercy upon you."

"I have nothing to confess," she said truthfully. "Like I said before, I am not a witch. You are wrongfully executing an innocent person."

The reverend glared at her. "May the lord take no mercy on you, you widow," he insulted. "Hang her!"

"NO!" Prudence shrieked.

The man that was holding onto the other end of the rope pulled on it with all his strength. Her mother was lifted from the ground as her air flow started to get blocked. She started kicking her legs in the air as her hands made their way up to the rope around her neck, instinctively trying to break free.

Prudence watched helplessly with tears streaming down her face. She cupped her hands over her mouth to cover the sobs she wanted to let out as she watched her mother finally stop struggling and take her last breath.

Her body was dropped to the ground and the crowd left, leaving Cynthia's body to rot.

Prudence ran up to her as soon as everyone was out of sight. She picked up her mother's body and cradled her head in her lap.

"No," she cried.

How could they do this to her? How could they hang her for simply knowing things that women weren't expected to know?

She blamed herself for not testifying on her mother's behalf. She blamed herself for not trying hard enough to save her mother from death. But most of all, she blamed the townspeople.

They were the ones that did this to her mother. They were the ones that killed her. All for what? Their selfishness?

Her tears of grief and sadness turned into tears of rage and anger.

She was going to get revenge for her mother even if it were the last thing she'd ever do.