𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘖𝘭𝘥 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩

The Witch

Her heavy gray hair stretched beyond her long skirt whipping in the wind, it's tresses pulling on her skalp and getting all tangled and messed up. And to think it was so pretty mere hours ago. Now the flower crown she had worn to a festival in her honor was lost, no doubt it fell out when her braid was loosened. Now she stood, her arms and torso tied firmly to a large post on a stand made entirely of wood.
Once the Queen of Fairies, the Great Lady of Water and Fire, now she was reduced to a cold, quivering form about to be burned as a witch. If only she hadn't promised not to harm, she would have been loose long ago. Her bright golden eyes found her punisher in the crowd of useless villagers, all screaming for her death. She was not a Woman, she was not a Human, and she would not die today or any other day. But the man, a harsh look in his eyes, carried a torch toward the heap of wood. She had to decide, in a moment if it was worth it. To save herself and lose her title amongst her fellow fairfolk.

For to kill a human, treasured pet of the Highest Queen, Lady and Warrior of Many Names, was essentially a sentence to be discarded. An outcast of your very own kind. But these humans were weak, and she could feel their weariness from dragging her here. So Lady Kyotha, a goddess in her own rite, sought the life forces near her and drew it like a whip and snapped it all back. The reaction was the horde all suffering such a severe pull and push effect that they all fell down.
Next, Kyotha lit her ropes on fire and lifted her hands above to her mouth, were her gag spontaneously disintegrated into dust. She rose above the wooden stand and up, and up, till she was above the trees in this forest she called home. No more would her people be her's, no more would she be welcome as a Queen of Fairfolk, even if she still held the title and noble blood. A tear slipped out the corner of her eye before she swipped it away and threw fire at the humans still in the clearing, the stupid enough to not run away long ago.

If they called her a Witch, then a Witch she would be. Fire poured out of every part of her, and around her she created a cloud of smoke and cries of pain. Though she could not admit it to her previous allies, she enjoyed this part of her gift. These inferior things deserved to beg for mercy, and Kyotha was a God. They all died as they earned upon themselves, and Kyotha earned the wrath of her High Queen of Many Names and was banished.

She would come back.