Polyanna: A Witcher's Mage

7 | All Aboard & Losing Control

Euphemiya's morning routine goes as as follows: Wake up, make the bed, get changed, eat breakfast, water her seventy-two plants, go to the clinic. On days she was free, she would usually read a book, bake, or go for a stroll

Today, three days after Geralt's departure, in the late morning, she was still in bed. She had gotten breakfast but didn't treat herself as a duchess having brunch this time. No, she took half a baguette and ate it under the covers. She was such a mess that she even found a wooden spoon underneath her pillow.

What was wrong with her?

Finally, at last, Euphemiya decided to leave the house. She opted to sit on a bench on the Hierach Square to read a book.

"You Euphemiya Haywood?" a rough voice from above her said. She looked up to see a bald man with a scarred face.

Euphemiya smiled politely. "Yes. Can I-"

Before she could finish her sentence, he drew his arm back and punched her square in the nose. She yelled out in pain, hitting the back of her head against the stone wall behind her. She could already feel blood gushing from her nose.

Two men seized her up, tying her up in dimeritium shackles. Euphemiya fought against them, but it proved to be in vain, for they were much stronger than her.

"Gather round, people! Gather round! A true spectacle today!" another voice rang out. Euphemiya spat the blood from her lips. The hands around her arms became tighter, to the point where she was sure it would leave bruises.

Euphemiya looked up to see a large crowd spreading for her. She recognized nearly all of them, and all wore faces of disgust and anger. She felt a lump grow in her throat.

She looked to her right, searching for any sympathetic person, but there were none. Tears gathered in her eyes.

She struggled as best as she could as they lifted her up and tied her to the stake, but, yet again, she was no match for them. All too quickly, she was unable to move, forced to stare at the sea of hatred in front of her.

On her left was Moritz Diefenthel. He didn't spare her a glance.

Moritz was first. The new leader of the witch hunters set fire to him. Triss and Geralt had finished off Caleb Menge before the latter set to Skellige.

The crowd watched, cheering, as Moritz was set on fire. The Eternal Fire priest raised his arms, palms facing the sky.

"No evil can survive the Holy Fire! The Holy Fire enlightens, burns, and cleanses!" The priest declared.

"Holy Fire! Enlighten, burn and cleanse!" The crowd called in unison, not a second of hesitation between.

The leader of the witch hunters set his torch aflame again and turned towards Euphemiya. "Behold the flame of grace and mercy!"

Tears trailed down her cheeks.

"Euphemiya Haywood, as most know." The leader began with an introduction, as he did previously with Moritz, who was no longer screaming. "Once a beloved counsellor of Novigrad, now-" he spared her a disgusted look- "a vile sorceress, deceiving and manipulating us like her kind does."

Several people yelled obscenities at her, all of which she knew by nickname.

"Slut!"

"Common whore!"

"Fucking degenerate!"

Euphemiya lowered her head and sniffed, a heavy feeling bubbling in her chest.

As the leader neared, the once clear blue sky hid behind gray clouds. The square was shadowed as the sky grew darker and darker. A rumble sounded.

"Bitch's conjurin'!"

Euphemiya breathed heavily. The bile in her stomach felt like a brick. It started to climb up her throat.

"What?"

"It's wearing dimeritium!"

A thick bolt of lightning struck the square, sending a few dozen people flying in the air. Bones cracked, people screamed and scattered.

The torch fell from the leader's hand and onto the firewood surrounding Euphemiya. The flames climbed their way to her just as rain fell from the sky, heavy and strong. So powerful that it crushed people. The fire had been put out, but not before the bottom of her dress and feet were burned.

The shackles around her wrists melted away, as did the ropes tying her ankles. She fell to the ground, skinning her hands and knees.

The metallic smell of blood reentered her nose, causing her to look up. Every person who decided to entertain themselves with Euphemiya's execution was now on the wet cobblestone of the square, crushed under the weight of the rain. Euphemiya didn't seem to be affected by it. The rain seemed to avoid her; not even a drop fell on her shoulder.

She looked around at the fallen crowd. The heavy feeling was pressing harshly against her throat. She would swallow every time the bile tried to climb its way up her throat, but it wouldn't go further down than the bottom of her throat. It felt as though the bile was desperate to leave her body, but it felt like she was about to throw up, something she was deathly afraid of.

The wolf medallion around her neck trembled, signaling a magic presence nearby. She looked up, tears still streaming down her face. One by one, she could see the crowd die. People of all ages laid atop one another, unable to escape the slow torture of being crushed to death.

It was a horrible sight.

My Gods, no...

As fast as she could, she enveloped the wolf medallion in her hand and tried to close off all her senses, but the scent of blood was strong.

The hard surface disappeared from beneath her, replacing itself with a soft mattress. The sudden change of scenery made her a little dizzy, but she forced herself to feel around, looking.

"Yen, I said I'm not in the fucking mood," a gruff voice spat.

"Geralt?" she sobbed.

"Miya?" he sounded more alert. "Hey, hey! What happened? Miya, what happened? Look at me."

The bile disappeared from her throat. She didn't know how or why, but she was grateful. Her feet were still wounded and were throbbing heavily.

He gently tapped her cheek to bring her back to the world. Through her tears, she saw concern in his rich amber eyes.

"Breathe, breathe. Hey, look at me, look at my eyes, breathe, Miya,"

She followed his breathing pattern, looking deeply into his eyes to calm down (though her burned feet were quite the distraction).

"Better?" He asked and she nodded wordlessly, though hesitantly. She couldn't stop the tears from escaping again. "Shit. It's not better. What happened?"

She sniffed. "Witch hunters." She carefully moved to show him her feet. "I got away."

His eyes widened. He carefully gripped her ankles to inspect the burns. "Fuck." He instantly stood up and left the room. He returned before she could create a thought, Ermion by his side.

"Oh child, what have you done now?" Ermion, otherwise known as Mousesack, rushed towards her.

"Witch hunters set her on a pyre," Geralt briefly explained, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked at the druid. "Can you help her?"

"Certainly. Just a moment,"

"Ca-can you loosen my corset, please?" Euphemiya asked, sniffling slightly. He quickly sat behind her and began at the top.

Ermion reentered the room, carrying a multitude of different herbs, as well as ointment.

"Child, I have told you many times to move out of that damned city. 'Free city'. Absolutely absu-"

"That's enough," Geralt silenced him.

"Apologies, Euphemiya,"

"Accepted."

As Ermion began to treat her wounds and Geralt unlaced her corset, she was sucked back into her thoughts.

I did it again.