Hexed

11

"To burn the witch is to admit that magic exists."

— Erin Anastasia, Mapless

☽★☾

It was early the next day when several of Sebastian's men swung the cell door open. Brynn had barely gotten a wink of sleep. Her limbs ached with the exertion of the previous day; it was almost enough to distract her from the grim fate that awaited her. Almost. It was pretty impossible to forget about the fact that she was going to be dead in less than twenty four hours.

She barely met Joan's eye as she was led out of the cell along with the her other cellmates. Their manacles were chained together as a group, making them some twisted version of a kindergarten class lineup. Brynn could clearly hear the guards' conversation as they made their way down the hall.

"Sebastian actually offered me a promotion, can you believe that?" One of the men asked incredulously.

Another of the men snorted with laughter. "Yeah, right. He offered me a promotion, too, so either you're lying, our Sebastian's being real generous now that the rebel witch is caught."

The guards chuckled in unison, one of the men tugging at the chains to prove his point. They then started up a passionate debate over one of the men's shirts — was it crooked, or was the neckline simply stretched out? As the men began to reach over to propose style ideas, Brynn tried her best to block out their words; she was going to lose a few brain cells trying to follow their conversation.

Their group finally reached Sebastian's office. Instead of going inside, one of the guards in the lead knocked on the door and settled back onto his heels to wait. A few minutes later, the door swung slowly open. Sebastian stepped out, running his fingers through his dark hair.

"Good, they're all awake," the man murmured with a nod, referring to the prisoners as if they weren't physically present. "Make sure they're freshened up; we want to look good for the executions tonight. We want to make a real show." Sebastian's laugh was enough to drive a chill down Brynn's spine. "Speaking of which, I think I'm going to scrap the usual hanging. How do you feel about a bonfire instead? Won't that be more of a performance?"

The fact that these men were planning out their deaths right in front of them made Brynn more than uncomfortable. Her eyes darted over to glance at Joan; the young woman was glaring at Sebastian with the sharpness of a dozen knives.

As the guards agreed wholeheartedly that watching the witches burn would be much more entertaining, Brynn hurried to think of an escape plan. Surely there had to be a way out. She just had to think of it. But no matter how hard she thought, Brynn couldn't come up with a single way out of this mess. They were doomed, every last one of them.

Sebastian finally finished up the conversation, the last of his laughter dying down. "That's settled, then. Get these fiendish witches into something more... fitting of their character. We want to make the crowd cheer when they burn." His dark eyes bore into each and every one of them as his gaze darted across each of their faces. "I'll see you all in a few hours." His lips spread into a lopsided grin. As he tilted his head, Brynn could associate his image with nothing other than an evil circus clown. She considered spitting in his face as she had done before, but she didn't get the chance; Brynn and the others were whisked away before she could even prepare.

Instead of returning them to their cell, the group was led to a break room of sorts. Shelves lined the walls, a coat rack stood by the door, and a round table was set up in the center of the room, a deck of cards spilling its contents across the wooden surface as if someone had needed to hurriedly put away their game. Brynn caught Silverstar's eye as their group entered the room. The blonde woman's gaze — surprisingly enough — wasn't filled with contempt, but a disappointed acceptance instead. She was just as defeated as the rest of them.