Morning finally came, spreading its rays across the land. Birds chirped happily, bees buzzed as they worked—but the prisoners had no such fate.
"Wake up, you vile villains! It's time to move!"
A guard banged on the steel bars. One by one, the men formed a silent line and began their descent out of the dungeon. They walked through the dark, winding passageway until, at last, they saw it: a sliver of light leaking through the keyhole of the old prison door.
The door creaked open. Light flooded in, blinding them. They had no way to shield themselves—their bodies no longer under their control. Still, they marched, struggling silently against the pain.
"Oh… do we have a treat for you today, boys."
The rat-faced guard cackled with a horrid, shrill laugh.
They were led to a Sag—a cart-like vehicle with two dark sails raised from its sides. But this was no ordinary cart. It was a massive cage, the kind used to display captured beasts.
Inside it, naked and beaten, was Louis.
He looked broken—shattered in a way Remy had never seen before.
"What is this, Louis…?" Remy tried to speak, but no words came.
His voice refused to form.
All he could do was stare, eyes wide with fury and terror.
"By now you must be wondering why your friend is here," said the commander, standing beside the Sag.
"Your friend did something grave—absolutely grave. He dared to try and kill a Celestial. As punishment, he has been sentenced to hanging. And since you are all considered accomplices… you too are to be executed. Publicly."
Execution?
That's just a damn lie.
He's covering up what they did to Louis—using us as an example to crush any hope the people might have.
They want to show what happens to anyone who rebels.
Remy's fury surged. The vines in his body pulsed, straining against the restrictions.
"Time to go see the world one last time," the commander sneered.
Soon they were in the Lower Yard, all the boys locked in the cage like animals. Louis stood chained to the pillars, not even allowed to sit.
"These men have been charged with treason—an attempt on a Saint's life—and are due for execution," a voice announced loudly.
"Tell them," the commander barked.
Remy and the others spoke involuntarily, their voices hollow:
"Yes, we tried to kill the Lord.
We are sinners who deserve death.
We accept it. We embrace it."
Their words echoed through the crowd like a cruel truth.
The public, unaware of the mind-control method, believed every word.
"No… my son!"
A cry burst through the crowd.
Louis's mother pushed forward, screaming, tears streaming as she saw her mutilated child.
"Oh, the mother of this insolent criminal," the commander sneered.
"You're just as guilty for giving birth to him."
He drew a silver revolver, aimed it casually—
Bang!
The thunderous shot rang through the street.
Louis's mother collapsed—lifeless.
Louis watched it all, unable to move.
Tears rolled down his face as the Sag creaked forward, deeper into the hell that awaited them.
Remy's eyes darted around in search of his mother as the Sag rolled deeper and deeper into the Loweryard. A strange kind of relief settled in his chest with every corner they turned, and still no sign of her.
Truly, I'm glad. Mother, hide. Don't come out. Just hide. If they catch you too, they're sure to make a spectacle out of you.
Children whimpered and adults sighed as the Sag passed through the winding alleys. And on the horizon, it came into view—the execution site. A raised platform with three grim stations:
One bore long ropes dangling from wooden beams—the place for hanging.
Another stood with a giant blade suspended above it—the guillotine, for beheadings.
And finally, three straw-stacked mounds—the place for burning.
When they arrived, the square was packed. People from far and near, old and young, had gathered—waiting eagerly to witness the death of their fellow brethren.
"Hear ye, hear ye! By order of the Veil, I come with the Cree," the pompous messenger announced, unrolling a silver scroll. "These five men, sinners of the Realm, have made an attempt upon a Saint—a divine being chosen by God to rule over the land. By trying to kill the Saint, they have defiled the word of God and become blasphemous creatures. They have ceased to be human. And so, by the power vested in me by the Church, I declare this execution to proceed."
He gave a low bow and stepped aside.
"And now," the commander intoned, "we give the Right of Death to the People. First: Sirius, child of Sethfar. What shall we do with him?"
"Burn him! Hang him! Off with his head!" the crowd roared.
Remy turned toward Sirius—one of his companions. Tears streamed down the boy's cheeks, pooling at his feet in a small river of sorrow.
These damn fools… it's because of this very stupidity that the Celestials still have a hold on us. It didn't take much to turn on your fellow brothers.
"I hear 'burn him,'" the commander said with finality. "So it shall be: death by burning."
The guards moved forward to fetch Sirius. The restraints on his body were lifted, though the gag in his mouth remained. As they dragged him forward, he began resisting—struggling, shouting behind the cloth, thrashing like a cornered beast. But his rebellion only riled the crowd.
"Oh my, the sinner resists now," the commander mocked, adding fuel to their bloodlust.
The guards kicked the boy's legs, and he slammed face-first into the ground. The crowd jeered, cheering for his pain. Sirius was dragged to the straw post and tied firmly. His hands bound behind him, he scanned the crowd—searching for someone, anyone. Stones flew at his head. Curses were spat like venom.
"Light it! Burn him! He's brought the Celestials' wrath upon us!" someone shouted.
"What if they raise the interest on your debts?" another called.
Sirius stopped fighting. It was over. There was no escape.
One of the guards stepped forward, torch in hand. He touched the straw.
The fire caught instantly.
Cheers erupted—but Sirius's screams drowned them all. First his clothes, then his skin. A foul stench filled the air, thick and cloying, as he turned to ash before them.