That night, Remy did in fact not sleep any more; a lot of thoughts kept replaying in his head.
"I hope he is okay."
"That demon said he would give me power. But I don't feel any different. Not at all." He spent the whole night contemplating. Before he realised, the hours slipped away.
Morning came. The rays spread across the land. Birds chirped happily. Bees buzzed as they worked. But the prisoners had no such fate. For them, the day brought a grim decision: become slaves or lose their hands.
"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.
"Shhhst…" they shuddered in discomfort.
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. This was another version of the Zigord.
It was a massive cage, the kind used to display captured beasts.
Inside was Louis.
"His clothes had been stripped, blood seeping down his leg, his face was mangled, and he was missing some teeth.
"Damn… it damn it, f*ckkkkkkkkkkkkkkk, that pig bastard, what has he done. He screamed internally.
"What happened? Are you okay, 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.
"Well, mmhuhmhuhm." He giggled. "Your friend did something so grave, so absolutely mad. He dared to try to kill a Celestial."
"What!" Remy listened.
"As punishment for this grave, grave sin, against the church, he has been sentenced to hanging. And since you are all considered accomplices… since he said that you all planned this, you too are to be executed. Publicly."
"Execution?
That's just a damn lie."
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.
The machine began to roll forward, leading them to their deaths.
A few moments later, they arrived in the Lower Yard, all of them locked to the cage like circus animals. Louis stood chained to the pillars, not even allowed to sit.
As they moved through the Lower-yard, a crowd began to form following them.
Then a loud voice boomed.
"These men have been charged with treason—an attempt on a Saint's life—and are due for execution," the commander announced.
"Tell them!" The commander barked.
Remy and the others found their mouths moving 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 deeper situation, 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 a traitor."
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.
"Please stay away, mother, please…Please," He prayed.
Remy's eyes darted around in search of his mother as the Sag rolled deeper and deeper into the Lower-yard. A strange kind of relief settled in his chest with every corner they turned, and still, there wasn't any 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: the place 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, Church of the truth, I come with the Decree," the pompous messenger announced, unrolling a silver scroll.
"These five men are sinners of the Realm; they 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." The crowd listened quietly.
"They have ceased to be human. And so, by the power vested in me by the Church, I declare this execution to be fair and just."
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?" he spoke, trying to hold back his smile.
"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, ha!"
"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, and a gag was placed around his mouth.
As they dragged him forward, he began resisting—struggling, shouting behind the cloth, thrashing like a cornered beast. But his rebellion only enraged the crowd even more.
"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 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.