The square seemed to grow heavier with every passing second.
The afternoon sun still hung high above the towering cathedral spires, yet its warmth no longer touched the crowd gathered below. A strange chill had settled over the plaza, creeping silently through the ranks of citizens, clergy, knights, and scholars alike as they all waited for the old healer's answer.
Thousands of eyes remained fixed on the frail woman standing at the center of the execution platform.
The Pope's final question still lingered in the air.
For what reason were you captured?
The old healer opened her mouth slightly.
But no words came.
Her gaze shifted uncertainly, her wrinkled fingers tightening around the Saintess' sleeve as if searching for something—perhaps courage, perhaps permission.
For a brief moment, she looked overwhelmed by the weight of the truth she carried.
Then her eyes lifted.
And met the Saintess'.
