I stood on the platform, looking past my bound ankles to the fire beneath. I caught the eye of the Witchfinder who was striding triumphantly around the piled-up wood. He laughed, thinking me terrified but I smiled at him, knowing I wasn’t.
This was as unjust and stupid as his “examination” of suspected witches. The whole game was entirely wrong and only served to visit pain and suffering on the innocent.
Those of us who were real witches, Daughters of the Goddess, knew how to cope but the poor women accused by jealous neighbours … did not. Even this execution only killed the poor bitches. Those of us wise in the ways of the path could fall face-first onto the hot coals and disappear in smoke but not die.
I stared at the glowing coals and saw them as red roses – they would throw me into the roses all bound and my shadow would slip away. No, this village would see me no more but die. That was the very last thing I would do!