Chapter 4 – Witches and curses
In the histories of folklore and legend, witches have long captured the imagination with their mysterious and often feared abilities. They reside in the secluded depths of the forest, beneath the canopy of ancient trees. Witches have a slender figure, draped in flowing robes of deepest ebony that seem to blend seamlessly with the shadows. Their face is obscured by a veil of dark hair, cascading in untamed waves around their shoulders like a midnight waterfall.
From beneath the tangled locks, piercing red eyes gleam with an intensity that speaks of ancient wisdom and boundless power. Their features are sharp and angular, sculpted by years of exposure to the elements and tempered by the passage of time. High cheekbones, lips that are full and dark.
Beneath their cloth is a formidable creature and a body full of scars that form an outline. Rotten teeth, a high nose, and long nails. But they have the ability to camouflage the crowd by pretending to be a beautiful woman. These witches have powers which bring bad omens to their surroundings. They love dark magic and perform formidable rituals, which include human and animal sacrifices.
Across cultures and centuries, tales of witches weaving spells, casting curses, and communing with otherworldly forces have persisted. These enigmatic figures, often depicted as wielders of supernatural power, evoke both fascination and trepidation in equal measure. From the bubbling cauldrons to the secluded hovels, the lore surrounding witches and curses has woven itself into the fabric of the whole empire. Leaving an indelible mark on collective consciousness.
The empire of Carthage, along with its neighboring empires, holds an intense disdain for these mystical beings. The law-making body of the five empires known as The Ordinance created a set of laws that governs their land including the annihilation of the witches. When such creatures are captured, they are subjected to a harsh fate. They are brought to the heart of Gallows Square, a place of public spectacle, and set ablaze as a grim warning to all. This brutal display serves as a stark reminder that the practice of dark magic, the casting of spells, and the invocation of curses are strictly forbidden within the empire and its territories.
The burning of these creatures is not just a punishment but also a symbolic act, meant to deter others from dabbling in forbidden arts and to uphold the law of the land. The crackling flames and the agonized cries of the condemned echo through the square, leaving a chilling impression on all who witness the execution, reinforcing the empire's uncompromising stance against magical transgressions.
In the early morning hours, amidst the lively streets of a Carthage town called Clasion, children joyfully engaged in playful activities. Amid their games, a curious remark surfaced: "Have you heard the song of the red-cloaked girl?" inquired one child to their playmate. "Yes, my mother sings that song," replied the companion with familiarity. This sparked a desire in another child, who exclaimed, "I want a red cloak too!"
However, a cautionary voice quickly interjected, "Are you out of your mind? Red cloaks are forbidden; wearing one would make others think you're a witch." The mention of a red cloak carried with it a sense of forbidden allure, mingled with the fear of being associated with dark magic and sorcery, reinforcing the strict societal norms and beliefs prevalent in Carthage regarding attire and superstitions.
A striking woman draped in a tattered cloak strolled through the streets, clutching a basket as she made her way to the town market. The woman walked past a group of children, who immediately scattered at the sight of her. One child even dared to shout, 'There she is, the witch!' The children screamed, 'Ahh ahhh ahhh,' as they ran back to their houses.
The woman glanced at the fleeing children but paid them no mind, as if she were accustomed to such reactions. Passersby, particularly men, cast glances her way, drawn by her presence. "Good morning," a man carrying a sack of potatoes greeted her. "Good morning to you too, Mr. Ardolf," she replied with a gentle smile.
Nearby, an elderly woman standing at a vegetable stall observed the interaction, her gaze fixed on the beautiful stranger. A man buying a vegetable asked the man called Mr. Ardolf, "Who's that? I never see her before," "That because she was new here, just move recently, a week ago".
The vegetable vendor uttered, "That woman's name is Anna" "She's quite lovely, isn't she? I've heard she resides in a small cottage near the town's outskirts." The elderly woman who was listening on the conversation, narrowed her eyes and murmured, "I knew it, she's a witch," before continuing on her way. Though her words were meant for her own ears, they were overheard by several bystanders.
At midnight, a group of men holding torches in their hands, marches through the town. Anna, who's wearing her night dress, wakes up to the sound of people shouting. She went to the door and opened it. The men of the town are present and surround her small house. They hold torches and most of them have weapons like daggers and axes. Confused, she said, "What is happening here?"
An old man came to the front and shouted, "She's a witch, an ill omen, and she will put curses on our land!!" The crowd chanted loudly and uniformly "Burn her" and "Kill her". "I don't know what you're talking about! I'm no witch. I'm staying here in this town peacefully. If I'm a witch, then there must be killings happening but none!" the desperate woman pleaded.
As the chaos unfolded, the pleas of the townspeople fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the fervor of accusation and suspicion. Ignoring any ounce of reason or compassion, the enraged men continued to shout and corner the pitiful woman, their voices mingling with the crackle of aggression and mob mentality. With merciless intent, they went near her with an attempt to bind her, but Anna kept begging anxiously. "Please, just listen. I'm not a witch". Two men bound her, and the rest ransacked her humble abode in a frenzied search for any shred of evidence to confirm their suspicions of her alleged evil deeds.
"They forcefully dragged the poor woman out of the house. Anna looked back in horror, her eyes widening as she watched her belongings being destroyed one by one. 'What are you doing?' she roared, appalled.
At the front of the commotion stood a rotund man, observing the scene with a smug expression. He was dressed in an expensive tailored suit, adorned with flamboyant accessories and glittering gems. The man exuded an aura of condescension and pride, his mustache twitching as he clasped his hands behind his back. 'Search the house thoroughly!' he barked, issuing commands with an air of absolute authority. This man was none other than the town lord, the overseer of the land who wielded the highest power in the town."
Anna looked at the man and said, "Lord Gordon, what is going on here? You know I'm not a witch!". The magistrate looks at the woman, disinterested and answered with a smirk, "I'm afraid there are some witnesses on your evil deeds! It must be taken action before it's too late. I don't want a witch in my town!".
Anna recalled their encounter from the previous day. She had been in the market, purchasing supplies, when the magistrate, Gordon, spotted her. He invited her to his office, where he had the audacity to make an indecent proposal, leering at her with a perverse gaze. Anna had immediately rejected his offer and stormed out of his repulsive office, seething with anger. Now, it seemed evident that the magistrate was exacting his revenge for her bold rejection. The magistrate smirked upon seeing the obvious glare from the young woman.
"There's a red cloth here!" cried out one of the men triumphantly, the discovery igniting a chorus of affirmation from the others. "I knew it! She's a witch, surely planning to sew a cloak from it," exclaimed another, the confirmation bias of their beliefs fueling their fervor. Upon the command of the town's head, a group of men descended upon the woman, seizing her with force and binding her hands, dragging her through the narrow streets to the heart of the town's center. Along the way, onlookers hurled stones and mud, their faces contorted with a mix of fear and misguided righteousness.
In the eerie stillness of the night in Perstone city, a haunting cry pierced the air, echoing the injustice and cruelty that had unfolded. The woman, now reduced to a symbol of fear and superstition, was led to a specially constructed furnace, designed solely for the execution of those accused of witchcraft. The flames consumed her, casting a sinister glow against the darkness, as the town's collective hysteria reached its tragic climax.
Killing witches is a natural occurrence in their land. The red-cloaked girl in the ancient prophecy is believed to be a witch. A witch who will bring ill omens, curses, and catastrophe to their land. That's why women who look suspicious are burned in Gallows Square.