The bastards got the better of me.
Perhaps it was my own hubris that led to my downfall. I thought them naught but simpletons for so blindly following their devout leader so closely. If he tells them to jump, they do as he commands while crying hymns. Because of this, I thought myself clever, but seems superstition wins over most minds in the end. Go figure.
They stripped me of most of my belongings, and my good fate could very well depend on seeing that they not dig into my satchel. With any luck, Ryml has been watching closely and intends to steal it back before they can go about trying to bless the items I carry. Depending on who gets to it first, I could be hanged by dawn, but I have reason to believe they already suspect me of being a “witch”.
I suppose everyone is right at least once.
They have not yet sent their priest to fling water and deafen me with prayers. For that, I’m even more grateful if only to spare me the sermon and rolling my eyes. I prefer my church messages to be about hope and better times rather than this damnation and subjugation before the will of the light malarkey. Although, I must give credit to their paranoia.
I had thought the manacles all the supposed witches were bound in were nothing more than binds to keep them restrained. Upon closer inspection, I could see the runes that were etched inside, and when they were locked upon my wrists I felt a severance in my connections with fel energy. My power is gone, and I cannot recall even the most basic of magical abilities. How they have this manner of enchantment is beyond me unless it dates back to their original leader.
From what I have learned, it was a well-intentioned settlement to create a better life for those who had been disadvantaged. A way to start anew, but the woods of Drustvar harbor an ancient magic. They learned quickly of the hardships that would be involved with their settlement, and thrive, they had to repel the witches that threatened their way of life. Their need for defense was founded on solid evidence, but they let their fears blind reason.
I believe four days have passed since being arrested for accusations of witchcraft, but I have also spent long hours in a dark cell. The chances are good that I have lost time in this stoney place, and only get to see light when my time for inquisition comes about. There are also those quaint times when they march us to the gallows and put on display for the whole population. Nooses are place about our necks as they demand confessions of our dark deeds. Thus far I have only given them yes and no answers to their questions when dignified silence wasn’t the most suitable. I can still feel the bruises of the rope’s bite. Their little way of reminding us of the severity of our crimes against the Light.
Bastards. I swear If once I find my way out of these shackles, the Light will truly be merciful if I don’t burn this place to the ground.
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