Public sentence

It was a sunny day, the kind when you're supposed to hear birdsong, but on this day, it was replaced by the sound of crowds and bugles echoing through the streets.

"Bring the traitor to his kingdom!" shouted a man dressed in a long, narrow frock coat, his voice ringing above the commotion.

At his command, a dozen guards emerged, escorting a man dressed in tattered rags through the crowd toward the stage erected in the middle of the Place de la Concorde.

People pushed and craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the condemned. Once on the platform, the man was tied up, and his head was carefully placed in a wooden frame beneath the guillotine—the sharp blade that had become the symbol of justice in revolutionary France.

With each passing moment, the crowd grew more agitated, their shouts blending into an ominous roar.

After long, tense seconds of waiting, the executioner raised his hand to silence the noise before leaning toward the condemned. He spoke in a measured tone, loud enough for the crowd to hear.

"What will be your last words, fallen king?"

The fallen raised his head slowly, his eyes scanning the crowd. His gaze, filled with pity and weariness, seemed to pierce through the tumult. Finally, he spoke, his voice steady despite the circumstances:

"Gentlemen, I am innocent of all the charges against me. I wish my blood could cement the happiness of the French people."

For a moment, murmurs rippled through the crowd, but a heavy silence soon fell as the executioner stepped back. With an almost mechanical precision, the blade dropped, severing the head of the once-great King of France, Louis XVI.

The crowd erupted into a mix of cheers and uneasy whispers, the echo of the blade's fall lingering in the air.

...

.....

....

After what felt like an eternity of total blankness, Louis opened his eyes, floating in an infinite void.

Stars shimmered faintly around him, as if he were drifting in the night sky.

"Could this be heaven?" he articulated after a moment's hesitation, his voice barely above a whisper.

..

He waited for seconds that stretched into what felt like hours. Then, suddenly, a deep, imposing voice echoed through the void, resonating as if it came from everywhere and nowhere at once.

"Alas, your time has not come, my child."

Louis widened his eyes in shock and found himself regaining control of his body, his legs trembling as he knelt on what seemed like an invisible platform suspended in the abyss.

"This sinner apologizes to the Lord God for the disrespect!" he cried out, lowering his head in reverence.

"God, uh... well, that's one of the names humans have given me," the voice replied, almost amused.

"Get up; I am not going to punish you or anything."

Louis raised his head cautiously. "Really?" he asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and hope.

"Of course. In fact, I'm going to reward you. I will grant you a new life where you can be whoever you wish to be " responded the voice with a light, almost playful chuckle.

Stunned by this unexpected act of kindness, Louis remained silent for a moment, struggling to comprehend what he had just heard.

The voice continued, its tone softening slightly.

"I'm going to send you there now. Don't be surprised , this world is different. Magic exists, and you've spent quite a bit of time drifting in the void. You'll adjust."

Before Louis could respond, the sound of a resounding handclap filled the void.

He felt a strange sensation pulling him away. Though he tried to scream, his voice faltered, and everything blurred.

In the next moment, a loud cry echoed through the air:

"OUIN!!"