A Vision of Crows

Prologue

The dungeon was an awful place. It reeked of urine and mold, as if it hadn't been cleaned in years, which to be fair, it probably hadn't. There was a constant plip, as water dripped down from a leak in the roof of the cells. Besides the noise of the dripping water, there was also the noise of the prisoners, or rather, their screams and whimpers of pain and agony.

"Let me out!"

"I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die!"

"Don't leave me with these idiots!"

"I'm sorry! I've learned my lesson I swear! Please, take me away from here!"

Among one of the cells, sat a woman, middle-aged and weary. The past few days had not been pleasant for her, and though she knew that she had done nothing wrong, she said no words, for there was nothing she could really say about her unfortunate situation.

Her name was Talia Rojas, and she had been framed, scapegoated, for a murder she did not commit. She was not from Farthrin, but rather, a neighboring country to west, called Mardas. She had been visiting a friend of hers when one of the sons of the Farthrish King Reginald had been passing through, and her friend had invited him to see her, up close in person, and soon, there sat the three in a room. An hour later, there was only one person, a body, and a cup that had been laced with poison. She didn't stand a chance, and she knew that quite well.

And now, she sat in dirty cell, waiting for her execution. Her mind was a jumbled mess that even she herself couldn't quite understand. Part of her was angry, angry at the friend who betrayed her, angry at the guards for keeping her in the dungeon, and angry at herself for having done nothing before the guards arrived. Another part of her was sad, for she had a family, a husband and a son, whom she would never see ever again. Her son would wonder why she had never returned, and her husband would not be able to respond. She wanted to cry, to run and escape her fate.

But she was tired. Oh, so very tired. Not only was her body tired from lack of sleep, but so was her mind. After her arrest, there had been many riots, those who were against the Magi and those who wanted a further investigation. Neither had done much good in the end, and all she really wanted was to see her family again, to see her little boy smile again.

She wanted to stay in that dream forever, but she was soon forced back to current reality by three soldiers who had arrived at her cell. "Talia Rojas," grunted the leader in Lanje, the common language. "Please come with us. And please do not attempt to run off and escape."

As they led her to where the stake was waiting, one of the soldiers murmured to himself in Farthrish, "I hate my job. With this, now we'll really piss off the Mardans. Poor lady, I wonder what her family thinks of this whole fiasco."

However, she could not understand him, so she could not take comfort in his words.

Step, step, step. Another step closer to death.

Tick, tick, tick. Another agonizing minute until the end.

Step, step, step. Tick, tick, tick. Step, step, tick, tick, step, tick, step, tick.

The sounds continued, taunting her until finally, they arrived. Talia was on the verge of collapsing, her legs terribly weak beneath her flimsy dress. She could have died right there, right then at that moment from the exhaustion, but she kept herself standing. She thought to herself, If I die, then I may as well die with what little I have left of my dignity.

The soldiers grabbed her and pulled her onto the small platform, where they tied her to the large wooden stake, and beneath her feet was a blanket of hay, dry and bare. The leader of the soldiers began to yell out to the people observing the scene. He had an entire speech prepared for them, but unable to understand it, none of it truly mattered to her, not at that moment, and not for the rest of her short life.

Instead, she scanned the faces that made up the crowd, looking to see if "that" person was among them. There were many expressions on the many faces of the crowd. Some were smug, others apathetic, and a few were completely appalled at the scene. But only one stood out to her from the crowd, the face that she had been looking for and had instantly recognized. It was a face full of beauty and corruption, like a rose whose loveliness drew attention away from the sharp thorns that lay below, and was staring at her with deep, black eyes that seemed to hold a trace of what may have been regret. Their eyes met, only for that person to at once look away, a lock of golden hair falling to cover their face. In response, Talia looked down, finally realizing that this was the end. This was the way it ended.

The leader led out a single cry, one that should have terrified her, but was now a mere annoyance, "Burn the Witch!"

Another soldier poured oil all over her and the stack of hay over which she stood on. A third soldier threw a match into the oil, and soon, flames began to emerge and began to consume her. The jeering crowd began a chant, screaming to what sounded like, "Burn! Burn! Burn! Burn!"

It was long and painful, until ultimately, she could no longer feel anything. But as she felt her consciousness slowly slip away, Talia managed to find little comfort among the rare, yet present faces of those who were watching from the distance, horrified.

It gave her hope, hope that humans weren't all that bad, hope that perhaps someday, everyone could live side by side without the senseless slaughter and pain inflicted on one another. It gave her hope that perhaps, one day, there would be a world that her child could grow up safely in. With this inkling of hope, she gathered up the last bit of her strength, raised her head, and gave one last smile.

In a voice far too low and damaged to be heard, she croaked, "May we all meet in the next life, in peace."

As the flames continued to devour her, Talia Rojas slipped into a deep, long sleep, dreaming of her child.

Author's Note: Hi, this is my first novel! This novel will update without a schedule, but it will be updated whenever I have chapters available!