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Story: The WitchSlayer

Gasping for air, she was able to draw in small amounts of oxygen. It was just enough to keep her going, to keep her alive so she would be able to feel the lick of flames painfully dancing across her skin.

The metal around her throat dug so deep she couldn’t speak against it.

She pleaded with her eyes at the people she’d cared for, helped, had saved over her years of living here. Many of them would have died due to sickness or giving birth. There was little to no crime in this town because of the protection spells she’d placed on each home.

Instead of helping her, one threw a stone, and it pegged her in the temple. Dizziness assaulted her vision.

I just wanted to live in peace.

The fire burst to life under feet, and it didn’t take long for her to start screaming. Whenever she lifted her legs to escape, the shackle around her throat made it impossible to breathe as she hung there.

She knew what she feared most. She feared the flames that had already engulfed her feet and set the skirt of her dress on fire.

Hot agony shot up her legs.

Amalia allowed herself to hang there by the shackle, desperately seeking death, but no matter how far she weakly lifted them, the fire was already surrounding her.

Unable to do anything with her arms and legs bound, she trembled and shook at the pain she felt. Her body was so dry she could no longer cry.So hot.

She also didn’t want to smell the foul scent of her own skin burning anymore. The stomach-churning aroma of charred, burning meat was there on every intake of her final breaths.

I want to die. I want to die.She wanted to escape this torment.Please! Let me die!

She couldn’t take much more of it.

Her chest was tight without breath. Her eyes rolled back with blurry vision when her heart slowed. Something shadowed the moon for a moment, but it was too late.

Amalia’s heart was about to stop beating.

Chapter 6

Rurik returned to the Witch’s home and landed on top of it. Something squawked from inside the straw of her roof, some flying creature, but he ignored it as he climbed down.

He made his way to the window, crawling against the outer wall of her peasant cottage until he grabbed the wooden frame of the windowsill. With claws digging in, he held on so he didn’t fall.

He peeked his head around to see through the glass.She is gone.

He could see the devastation inside her house. Dirt, spices, and plants were scattered across the ground, her books were thrown without care, and the table she often rested him upon was on its side.

She has been taken.

Jumping back from the window, he flapped his wings and took flight.

Unsure of which way to go, unable to scent her out with his body so tiny, he looked around to think. That’s when he noticed a bright light coming from the town. His brows drew together before he headed in that direction.

The closer he got, the more he understood what was happening.

A Witch’s trial.And it appeared he was too late.

She was burning, flames already eating at her feet.She is still moving, though.He could see her struggling.

With an irritated growl, he chanted while he flew, and his size grew exponentially bigger.

What he was doing was a risk to his own life. If there were any Witches nearby, they would see him. Still, he continued to fly towards the town, doing one circle above it to slow his approach while he thought on how to best handle this.

His eyes widened when the Witch stopped struggling. Her body went limp, and her feet dropped back into the flames.

Dammit.He’d been hoping he could shift to a man to save her. Instead, he was going to have to reveal himself to these humans.

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