There was no room for failure in their plan of escape. One simple mistake, and it could cost them their lives. The plan had its risks, of course, but Noct had already organized a backup plan in his mind just in case. He had decided that if all else failed, he would have to flee the scene, prize or no prize, satchel or no satchel. Naturally, that also meant that he would have to abandon the girl.

    Easy.

    The two of them were led through a thin cobbled hallway with rows of dark and empty cells on either of its opposite sides, straight towards a set of stone stairs situated at the end of the corridor. The flickering torchlights mounted on the walls cast looming shadows, as though reminding them of their impending fate. Their footsteps echoed dully. For the entire time, the two guards that accompanied them made no attempts at a conversation, if not counting the drunk one's quiet giggling and muttering. Noct did his best to ignore him. The witch by his side remained quiet as well.

   When they arrived at the foot of the stairs, Noct saw the dim outline of trapdoor right above their heads. The first guard climbed up and grabbed onto the rusted handle. With a low grunt, he swung the door upwards. Noct winced as an unexpected sunlight streamed in from the gaps. He had been locked inside the cell's darkness for so long that even the minimum amount of brightness pained his eyes. He tried blinking away the dark spots that had materialized in his vision, almost losing his balance for a moment. When he had, it was only then when he realized that it was not just the sunlight that was new to him.

   There was a loud and massive crowd gathered around them. Most of them, he observed, were from the lower class, dressed in rags and caked with dirt. They had formed in a wide arc, shouting, whispering, and muttering among themselves. "Witch." "Die." and "Demon." were some of the words Noct caught them saying in low and loud voices. Some had looks of hatred on their grimy faces. Others had looks of fear. The majority of them, though, seemed to be amused, smiling and laughing as they pointed at the witch and the thief, their voices mocking and filled with glee. They were the spectators to the execution, Noct realized. Citizens who had nothing else to do with their small, insignificant lives. Scums of human civilization who enjoyed seeing other people die in front of their eyes for the sake of their own selfish entertainment.

    This is horrible. Noct breathed in and looked down at his hands. He breathed out. Calm yourself.

    He glanced behind him and saw that his assumption had been right. They had been imprisoned under one of the guard houses, an average-sized two-floored building made of cemented brick. The trapdoor had opened directly into the corner of the Roxas Square, the very same place that Noct had robbed the girl at. It seemed kind of ironic, even, to think that they would be executed at the very same place they had parted. Noct cast a glance at the witch again, wary of her reaction. She didn't seem fazed, however.

    "Moooove, boy." The drunk guard behind him urged since the thief was blocking his way out. Noct obliged silently, stepping to one side.

    "Ah, make way, make way!" The voice of another guard carried loudly over the noise as he squeezed and emerged from the center of the crowd, approaching the four of them. At a glance, this one looked much proper than the first two. He was well-groomed, wore his armor better, and his brown beard was trimmed neatly.

    "So... these are them?" he asked as soon as he was within hearing distance.

    "Aye," the first guard answered. "The witch and her accomplice."

    The newcomer's eyes flickered over at Noct, then quickly over at the girl. His gaze trailed over at her face and eyes, then at the bloodstains on her mended clothes that still looked fresh. There was a slight frown on his face. "I thought the witch was fatally wounded... how come she's able to stand?"

    The first guard looked at the girl and shrugged. "Dunnk. We only came to get them, not watch them."

    The new guard narrowed his eyes, deep in thought for a moment. Noct tensed, his heartbeat increasing. To his relief, he looked back at the first one and nodded. "Alright, alright, nevermind. Let them up, bring them to the stands. The hunter's already there... And you should lay off the booze, Turan," He looked at the drunk one. "I can smell the alcohol from over here."

    The drunk Turan made a high chuckle. The other guard shook his head and took out two coils of rope that he had kept at his back. He gave one to the other, and turned first towards the witch. He nodded to her. "Your... hands."

    The witch blinked, looking up at his face. He flinched a little as her eyes bore into his, most likely startled by the depth of her stare.

    "Do it, little miss," Noct whispered at her as he himself raised his hands together and offered it to them. She looked at him, slightly shaking her head, reluctant. Then, with signs of obvious hesitation, she raised both her bandaged hands for the guard to tie. Like Noct, he seemed startled at the sight of the dirtied bandages, but decided to ignore it. He did his job quietly and quickly, making sure to wrap them tight. The girl stared at him work the whole time. Noct glanced at her face.

    Could it be, she can't break out of them?

    Once they were tied up, the first guard grunted, pointing to their far right, where the execution stand must have been. Most likely, it was covered by the sea of heads. "Follow us. Quietly. As I said before, don't even attempt to escape."

   The witch and the thief only stared at him. The other guard sighed. "Can't you be more gentle to them?"

   "What's the point?" he spat. "They're going to die, anyway."

   Noct fought back the urge to punch him. The third one sighed, while the drunk one laughed in a high-pitched giggle. The three accompanied both towards the execution site, keeping the crowd at bay with their spears. Noct and the girl followed them quietly as the crowd around them shouted taunts, spiteful insults, and threw rocks. One rock sailed over and grazed Noct on his bruised cheek. He winced in pain. With a look of malice, he glared at the direction where it had come from, but there were too many people to point a single one out. He turned back to look in front of him. He settled his nerves once more.

   When they arrived before the execution stands, Noct felt the first pang of fear throughout his entire body. Only then did it just dawn in on him that what was happening right now was real. How many times had he watched an execution from the rooftops, only to look away from the grotesque scene yet believe that the Witchfolk being executed deserved it? Even if he hated them, he had felt a slight sense of pity. Were they this scared as well at the moments before their trial? he thought, then shook his head. If the plan failed, this would have been the last time he was able to breathe, to feel the heat of the sun on his skin, to see the scenes of the kingdom he had grown up in for years.

    No. You'll escape, he thought firmly.

    Atop the stands, a commotion was happening. Three stakes were already mounted, surrounded by piles of kerosene-doused hay that glistened like gold. They looked like grave markers. Noct frowned. Why three?

   He found the answer as soon as he looked to the far side of the stands. Three people were already standing there. The first one, he noticed, was none other than Worick. He had a triumphant expression on his ugly, marred face. Just the sight of him made Noct's blood boil in hatred. If it weren't for him, this wouldn't have happened, he thought. Noct had to resist running to him and beating him up. To stab him with the last and only knife hidden in Noct's boot that the guards had overlooked. The thief clenched his fists and fought the urge. Not yet. Beside Worick, there was a robed man who having a conversation with him. An announcer, Noct guessed. There was always one in every execution, after all.

    Then, the thief's eyes went over to the third and last person. A girl was kneeling beside them, her shoulders shaking in deep crying heaves. She was thin to the bones, her faded dress tattered and dirtied. She looked no older than Noct and had a wild expression in her bloodshot, bagged eyes. Her messy blonde-colored hair covered a portion of her face. Her fragile arms had bloody and terrible scratch marks on them, as if she had spent her free time clawing at her skin. Another false victim.

    "Burn the witch!"

    "Kill her already!"

    The crowd taunted mercilessly, their shouts incessant. However, as Noct looked at her with an expression of incredulity, he knew one thing at first glance. She was clearly not a witch.

    Hatred overcame him. This was the main reason why a lot of the people hated and loved Worick. He was, without a doubt, none other than a fraud. He was most known, despite his skill and talent, with the fact that as long as he was rewarded with gold in return, he would accuse any girl who seemed suspicious of witchcraft and order to execute them as soon as possible. That was the reason why most people never wanted to cross with him. Worick had powerful people behind his back, and no matter how innocent a person would be, they could never win against him.

    As Noct glared at him from a distance, the witch hunter himself had noticed the thief and the witch. He stopped talking and pointed in their direction to the robed man he was talking to. The robed one nodded, breaking into a thin smile with his thin lips. Then, he broke away from the hunter and the girl and approached the edge of the stand, addressing to the mumbling crowd as they quieted down.

    "Citizens of Uldard!" he called loudly. The crowd cheered. "We are so honored that you have come to witness this occasion! Today, not one, not two, but three shall be executed: two witches, and an accomplice! As stated in the Law of the Kingdom, any witch discovered within the walls by a witch hunter shall be put to death without further exception as decreed by our Most High King, Gladious Yurven Rex Demixon!"

   The crowd roared to life again, pumping their fists in the air.

   "These three were discovered by none other than Worick the Witch Hunter!" He paused for a moment and nodded at him. "By order, the first to be executed shall be Miss Rhee Lankwise, under the suspicion of use of witchcraft discovered two days ago! Since I know you are all aware of the formalities said and all the rest that follows, let us go straight to the main event! Please witness as we erase a fault of man from the earth! May the gods bless us!"

   The crowd cheered it's approval, yelling, "May the gods bless us!"

   The robed man turned and nodded at Worick, signaling him with a raise of his hand. The hunter bent down and grabbed the girl's neck, dragging her limp body towards the nearest stake as she whimpered in fear. Noct balled his fists as he saw her being tied helplessly. She was begging for mercy, fresh tears falling on her face. "I'm not a witch, please, believe me! I'm not a witch!" she screeched.

    Another guard approached Worick from the other side of the stands, holding up a blazing torch. He handed it to him. The girl's eyes widened and her screams became more and more desperate. Noct clenched his fists. He wanted to look away.

   "Do it!" The crowd screamed.

   Without an ounce of hesitation, Worick threw the torch.

   A small gasp escaped Noct, taken aback by the sudden act. The fire blazed immediately, fed on by the oil and the hay. The girl screamed in agony as the fire quickly engulfed around her, burning her skin. Tears streamed down her face. Her body was shaking vigorously, trying to escape from the ropes which pressed into her wounds. The flames licked at her bare feet. For a moment, Noct was reminded of the horrible memory from before.

   The man in the robe raised his voice to be heard over the deafening roar of crowd and the crackling of the flames, "May this day be a reminder of the darkness of the Witchfolk who so many revere, for they are no more than monster in the skin of men! Evil beings who bring nothing but misfortune and danger! They may fool us into thinking them harmless, but do not be deceived, fair people!"

   Noct tried to block out her pathetic screams, praying for her quick death. At least that way, she could be spared with the pain. In his ears, the crowd's cheering were disgusting and vile. He felt sick to the core. He thought about the very same thing happening to him and wanted to puke.

   Then in the next moment, beside him, Noct suddenly heard a single whisper from the witch, her voice reverberating clearly in his ears as though she was saying it directly next to him.

     "... Freeze."

    He turned to look at her just as an expanding layer of ice immediately spread from the witch's feet, bursting like a crystal flower to cover every inch of the entire stand. Startled, the guards backed away from her. Noct took an alarming step back. The temperature dropped. A pattern of frost travelled towards the blazing fire in the blink of an eye, extinguishing the flames as massive ice crystals bloomed around Miss Rhee, protruding from the ground in jagged heaps, their pointed edges sharp and glinting. In a matter of seconds, the stand had become a frozen carapace.

   For a few silent seconds, no one moved. The crowd had turned silent. Awed and completely shocked, they surveyed the impossible scene before them without saying a word. Noct could not blame them. This was the first time he had seen witchcraft at this grand scale.

   The witch's silver eyes blazed in fury. She took a light step forward, a fresh layer of ice forming at her feet. A layer of ice suddenly spread over the ropes tied on her hands and broke like glass as she pulled them apart. It fell by her feet in heavy clinks. Then, her gaze trailed slowly over at the crowd, at the man in robes, then finally, at the witch hunter. She raised her bandaged hand, whispering only a single word that was laced with malice.

   "... Rise."

   And then, the dead awoke.

---->thank you for reading!

Special mention for cranerain again for the cover above!