The Poisoned Crown (SyndiSparklez)

15: After the Trial

Author's Note: 

Chapter 15 starts after the trial. So if you're clueless and struggling to remember things, then I did this correctly. (I improvised). To create an air of confusion concerning what happened at the trial, the trial won't ever to be told specifically, but referenced several times with a few flashback before this story falls and finishes. Yes there's a sequel, but I'm taking a break for a Septilplier Horror fic (I don't think it qualifies as a shippy story, but it has both of them in there, the sneak peak is available with a few scenes from it)

Also, the reason I've been gone is at the bottom. 

CHAPTER 15: After the Trial: Tom, James & Martha

After the Trial:

After the trial, there was one less troubled soul in the town.

After the trial, her tears had run, and run, till her eyes were dry.

After the trial, he took to alcohol, something he'd never done before.

After the trial, there were three young, strong men dead instead of one.

After the trial, some lines were permanently broken, never to be meant again.

After the trial, a father cried, not that one, not the one you think of, but a different man.

After the trial, a mother, not married to that father, also cried, but her pain was a deep as the marrow in a bone.

After the trial, his relief was short-lived, because for all the doors he had opened, his love, his other half of the soul, closed surely, is that door.

After the trial, a godless man had ran, and ran, and ran like had never ran, as his feet burned, as his sheath on his belt was empty, as to the empty air above he let out a loud pleading cry.

After the trial, there sat an aging man with all his cards on the table, his mouth set in a final smile as the already aged man held tight to his own cards, his mouth locked in a scowl, as the plates shifted once again in this West forsaken town.

Tom was still panting and clutching his side as his insides broiled. All that running and he was convinced he didn't even have lungs anymore. He panted, clutching his side as he saw that James had already made it back, the man was without his cloak, reclining in the chair. Martha stood beside him, pulling her hair into a bun, looking faint, but determined. Her powers, even dimmed, were evident.

They had escaped.

But at the loss of most of Martha's powers. At the loss of a valued life. And at the loss of Jordan's sanity it seemed like. He had seen it from the side view, only for moments after he had rescued Martha. Jordan's horror as Tom's astro-projection was beheaded. Jordan thought he was dead and despite a possessed him having hurt that poor wretch of a man, Jordan hadn't wanted Tom dead.

That would be heart-warming if it wasn't for all the tragedy that had happened today. They stood in the barriers of the cottage and Tom could tell Martha was anxious, shifting around, staring about the house as if bad memories rested solely in this place of the Earth. Her fingers lightly moved over chips in the painting, as if the very soul of the house was calling to her.

That's when it clicked in Tom's mind and he straightened. "You're Jordan's mother," Tom stated in near disbelief. "That's...that's why. Why all of this...why all of this has-" Tom couldn't go further, because Martha was staring at him with a deep sadness