Ailsa
When the day of my execution arrives, I start pacing the floor before the bars. I can't see in the dark, but I can feel the impeding into doom of my soon to be death as it creeps in like a shadow.
Gentry tries to get me to sit, even going so far as to grab my arm to try to tug me down, but I shake her off and laugh like a mad woman.
"He'll be here, any moment and he'll be here. I know it." I insist, back to pacing, touching either wall before turning and walking back the other way.
My maid gives up, going so silent until the only noise is my feet sliding against dirt and the dripping of water from the ceiling. A familiar sound, a comforting sound.
The hours pass all too quickly, and I know I'm running out of time.
"Where is he!? He should've been here by now." I say aloud, swinging around to pose the question to the outside of our prison. I press a dirty hand to my sweat slicked forehead.
"Oh, lass..." I know that tone, that pitting, sad tone that tells me exactly what Gentry is thinking.
She's thinking of her own story, the way her love left her and never returned. She's thinking that the story has been retold in my own life, and that the ending will be more tragic than anyone could've guessed.
Most of all she's thinking my trust was misplaced, and I will die because Fraser chose to abandon me.
Did he? Did he purposefully leave me here? Did he care if I lived or died?
"No." I moan as an unbearable ache erupts in my lower belly. I shake my head, shoving my hand out for support as I lean against the wall for support before I collapse in agony. "No, no. He loves me. He wouldn't... he just wouldn't..."
I don't get to finish my sentence, although I'm not sure I even had the strength to. The door to the dungeons swings open and I woodenly stalk backwards as several torches wielded by stern men surround us.
Neither of us says a word as our hands are bound and we're led away from the rotting underbelly of the clan grounds.
The man dragging me yanks harshly, and I wince as my arms twinge from the movement.
"Don't try to fight it, lass, or I'll make your last minutes more painful than they have to be." His promise is met with answering chuckles from the rest of the guards.
Gentry is behind me as we walk the long walk to our deaths, and tears spill down my cheeks as I hate myself. This is all my fault. My only real friend in this whole world, and she will die because of my mistakes.
It's not fair. I learned long ago that life is not fair, that it's a simple game of chance and I will likely always be let down.
I had just thought that Fraser was the exception.
We're dragged through the courtyard, past the kitchens, down a long, winding path that leads to a large field filled with people. Their faces are gleaming with the last light of the day, the pink streams from the sun cascading across the highlands. The sunset turns the clouds a vibrant orange. The hills seem to glow with the power of it. The world pulses under my feet as I realize this is the last thing I will see, the beauty of the earth.
At least I'll have that.
The crowd parts as we get closer, the bearer we get the more I can see through the tangle of bodies. There are two stakes in the ground, the bottom littered with stacks of hay.
My breath quickens, my lungs aching. This is it then. This is really the way I die.
My father stands at the helm, my mother at his side. Neither look at me as I'm led to my stake.
The people of my clan watch me. I search their faces. I see so many different things reflected in them, those who were supposed to be my family in a way.
Some look scared, sad. Others are eager. Most have furrowed brows and pinched lips. Angry. Whether they're angry at Gentry and I or my father, I have no idea. I won't have to worry for long.
The small group of men leading us stops in the dead center of the circle, clutching us tight as they face their Laird.
Wordlessly, my father nods his head. They move forward, my stomach rolls as I trip over stray bits of hay and stone as I'm hefted upwards.
My body automatically fights as I'm made airborne. I want to scream as I'm tied to the post, my arms tight behind my back, my head slamming into the solid wood. I can't get a sound out for a moment, all the air has been taken from my lungs.
I look to my left, seeing Gentry's stoic face as she turns to meet my gaze. Her smile is grim.
She will be the last face I see.
"You have no idea how sorry I truly am, Gentry. I love you." The words stumble out of me, my lungs allowing the final statement before my father steps forward for the crowd's attention.
His arms raised high, he looks every bit a smug king ruling over his subjects pinned beneath his boots.
"Today, what you see before you, are two witches. They will be burned for their crimes and then we shall have a grand feast to celebrate the snuffing out of this evil!" His small speech is met with hundreds of outcries.
The clan is rattling with excitement.
Fraser, where are you?
"The torches!" He booms, and the guards that collected us from the dungeons step forward, their individual torches held up in the air to display the brilliant, dancing flames.
"I love you too, lass, more than one could love their own daughter."
The answer has me sniffling, sobbing, my body aching and wracking with the force of emotion, and I hate that some might view my crying as my own fear, fear for myself.
I don't fear death. I fear the loss of innocence in this dark world.
Will there ever be light?
Fraser's face flickers to the surface of the darkness encasing my mind. His smile, his gentle touch, his lips on mine. Was any of it real? Was he playing me all along, so desperate to escape that I was his only option? Was his only hope to pretend to care for me? Earn my affection?
Even worse, did I let him? Yes. Worser still, did I regret it? Closing my eyes and imagining how I came alive when I met him, I fear I already know the answer.
"Let there be justice." The words from my father's lips are even and cold.
The hay takes no time at all to catch fire. It's lit from all sides, the fire eating up the tinder in mere seconds. Raging flames build and grow, turning hotter and hotter as they spread up towards us, reaching to burn us eagerly.
"There is no justice. Not here. Not from you." Gentry calls, and its met with the expected murmurs, but I'm shocked when a few cheers are scattered among them.
There are those that believe us innocent, those that don't support this needless slaughter on empty grounds.
I see my father's head swivel, searching the crowd of his clan with furious eyes. The rebels are quick to quiet themselves, self preservation taking over.
They may be smart enough to see this execution is a farce, but they are not dumb enough to let it get them killed here and now.
Dangerously hot fingers of fire flick at my ankles and feet, I scream out an involuntary shriek as pain ignites in the soles of my shoeless feet. The fire carelessly eats the hem of my dress away, heating my skin but not close enough yet to burn away my flesh, although it won't be long yet.
The stake doesn't even groan as I kick out, my body bucking wildly, trying anything to stamp out the blaze under me.
The fire releases a thick, black smoke. It swirls up and up and up until I'm choking on it. It invades me like a parasite, taking up needed space inside me as it goes where it pleases.
My lungs flare and suddenly the inferno that is determined to take my life is forgotten, but only for a moment.
I can't inhale, and black, deadly smoke is trapped behind my ribs, eating away at my body. I sag as I try desperately to dispel the hasersous aid, wanting to replace it with something fresh.
My lungs refuse to move.
My vision blurs and darkens as the flames get angrier, roaring higher. Closer and closer and closer. I'll be gone soon. Reduced to ash.
As my eyes tunnel out, I gaze up at the sky. It's turned a brilliant, dark blue. I admire it as things go dark. The last thing I hear is a deafening roar that seems to shake the very ground beneath us all.
Retribution has arrived.
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