The Dark Heir (SHORTLIST - Open Novella Contest 2019)

A "Good Old" Witch Burning

Rose was astonished at how quickly things escalated from the moment Oren proclaimed she was a witch (in a bad way).

All the people she'd grown up instantly turned against her, except for Auntie Laura, who secretly dabbled in witchcraft and considered Rose the closest thing she had to a daughter.  She had to be wrestled to the ground by three other aunties and smacked on the head with a frying pan. 

It was an interesting lesson in human behavior, and Rose didn't know quite how she should be feeling.  She'd tried to be a good person, even though she had a habit of screwing things up.  There were urges she had, and things she imagined happening when she was angry.  In some ways, she didn't blame them for turning on her.  She had a feeling that she was not quite right, and perhaps her death would be much better for everyone. (It wouldn't)

It was not the reaction Oren was hoping for.  He hadn't ever really intended to burn her, and he wasn't quite sure how to go about it, but he couldn't back down.  Thankfully The Book happened to have a very good diagram about how to burn witches in it (conceived of just for this very moment), and so he told everyone what to do and this was how Rose found herself tied to a large pole, surrounded by logs, and being advanced upon by her family who were carrying a lot of torches.  This was a Monday (because Mondays...).

Gerald, who had been trying to take as much time as possible to get to the commune where he'd last seen Rose, was at that moment regretting his decision to take so long.

In town, he'd been made aware of a "good old" witch burning which was going to take place that night.  Gerald was confused, because he'd never heard of a witch burning before, or why one would take place, or why it would be a "good old" one.  The man who told him about it, who happened to be the baker who Rose bit eight years earlier, was also unclear on those details, but he liked to sound like he was in the know on things.  In order to seem like an authority on whatever was happening, he rarely questioned the merits of anything and preferred to just spread along whatever rumor reached his ears with no thought to the harm it might cause.

After corroborating the information with several others, he realized that it was not going to be in the middle of town (like the baker proclaimed), but over at the castle ruins, and it was actually one of the cults - the one that called themselves a commune - that was having it.  Gerald felt his stomach sinking, and realized Fate had gotten there ahead of him.  He really didn't feel up to rescuing anyone just then but saw little choice.

Arien also overheard the conversation at the baker's because he was in the shop pilfering more cookies while also purchasing bread for his cult.  He was quite unrecognizable from the awkward nine-year-old he'd been eight years earlier.  He had a new hair-cut, closely cropped on the side of his head, and left longer on top, because he had been initiated into the cult that summer.  He had also gotten a new dress, and leggings to go under it - a pant-maker had joined the cult recently and now everyone had pants under their sheet-dresses. 

After Gerald left the shop, Arien put the loaves of bread on the counter.

"Any idea who the witch is?" He asked nonchalantly.

The baker eyed him with distrust, which was completely warranted but not for the reason he assumed.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Just interested...you know, what with this witch burning business becoming popular around here, you can't be too careful," Arien said casually as if he had more information about the practice of witch burning than the baker. 

The baker hated anyone looking like they knew more so he responded, "That's right, witches cropping up all over the place (they weren't). Hard to know if you're safe anymore. They like to infiltrate cults you know (they didn't).  You should watch out. You know, I'm quite good at telling who's a witch - been thinking of starting up a witch-hunting business as a side-gig (he hadn't until just that moment)."