The answer was swiftly given by the mob that came to stare.

Those who once belonged to the school watched as the gate was broken and people poured into the courtyard.

Buckets of water were brought to douse the fire, and by the time the last ember was snuffed, every last student and domestic had been fitted with iron shackles around their wrists and ankles.

The prisoners were confused, pleading several times to know why they'd been restrained, but no one offered a word of explanation. Guards appeared and flanked the sides of the group, pushing everyone into a tight huddle. Credence attempted to slip through, hoping to blend in with the free townspeople, but she was grabbed by the big hands of a stranger, who pushed her firmly back among her peers.

Bound in chains with the rest of them, Credence was placed into a long line that spanned the whole of the school. With no knowledge of where they were going or why, the line was marched through the now uneven streets, and all the eyes of the towns were watching. A few of the children called to their families, but no one came to their aid—as if merely acknowledging one of them might curse the hand that tried to comfort.

Credence noted with no small satisfaction that although the towns had acted quickly to kill the fire in the school, their attempt to save the building proved futile, and though the flames were gone, most of the foundation had been taken with it.

The school was beyond saving, and the last of that monster's paradise, from courtyard to kitchen, would inevitably have to be torn down.

With a few guards holding lanterns to light the way, the line was released from their shackles and ushered into a large room with packed dirt floors, that contained empty tables, washtubs, and cots.

I've been here before, Credence realized.

They had been brought to the same place where the red stripes took their rest before the Auction.

Proving her correct, the plump woman who had addressed the room so long ago, Miss Scrubbs, made her entrance to attend the new arrivals, holding a lantern of her own to shine upon her frowning face.

The first time Credence had seen her, the woman exchanged humorous bantering with her charges. None of that joviality was present in her tone now, and she stared at the room with eyes full of hate.

She hadn't come to welcome them or give them instructions, she had come to condemn them.

"It's too late an hour to be messin' with you lot," Miss Scrubbs snarled, "but here I am all the same! Far as I'm concerned, every last one of you should get black stripes for what you've done—murdering your headmaster and settin' fire to the school!"

A round of gasps answered her and she spat on the ground.

"I don't care if it was all or one who did it," she added. "Someone will answer for this—the towns demands it!"

She shook her head and wiped the leftover saliva from her chin with her nightgown sleeve.

"Lucky for you, it's not me making the decisions! What a mess! We've got nowhere to put you, so for the time being you'll stay here—and don't even think about gettin' a bite of bread from me in the meantime!"

A guard entered the room and pulled Miss Scrubbs aside to whisper in her ear. She scratched her chin and gave a curt nod.

"Fair enough," she grunted at the guard before turning back to the rest of the room. "Well, well. Aren't we the lucky few? Seems the towns agreed to have a surprise Auction tomorrow night! And you'll be the only attraction!"

A voice rose from the crowd, though its owner was indistinguishable in the sea of faces.

"What about our family?"

Murmuring rose to second the question.

"What about them?" Miss Scrubbs snapped back. "They can buy you at the Auction if they've got the coin, or let you rot for your sins! Filthy traitors, killers all! You should thank the moon you're getting any chance to see tomorrow! You're no longer property of the school because you destroyed the school! Now you belong to the towns—you're nobody! Nobody's child and my problem! Think on that while you await your fate!"

"Who made that decision?" a bold voice argued.

"Our family should get a say!" added another.

Miss Scrubbs' eyes narrowed.

"You made that decision. At least one of you is responsible, and we've neither the time nor the patience to find out who—not that I'd trust a word from any of you on the matter. Justice will be served, and the next voice that thinks to question me will be silenced with the strap! And as for you—" She pointed at one of the old domestics, who shook her head to say she wanted no part in any of it. "You neglected to help your headmaster. It's just as much your fault, what's happened. You're going to the stage with the rest, and may the Headmaster's spirit damn you for allowing such wickedness under your watch!"

Many of the domestics turned to each other, and a cry escaped a few of their lips.

Miss Scrubbs gave a nasty smile.

"I'd be afraid too, if I were you," she said of their despair. "Not many are willing to spend coin on old, lazy goods like you. Best make peace in what's left of your hours."

She turned to leave, tossing over her shoulder, "Best put on a good show tomorrow. It's the only thing you lot are good for now."

The lantern and the last of the guards left with her, and when the door closed behind them the room was plunged into darkness.

***

It was an unsettling thing to listen to bodies shuffling in the dark.

Several children and domestics began to weep, and they reached out to find each other for comfort.

No one understood why the world had fallen around them in a single night.

A finger jabbed Credence's side and a voice growled in her ear, "It's your fault. We saw what you did."

Whispers of agreement surrounded her.

"We should tell them it was her," a second voice offered.

"Yeah," said a third, "they'll go easy on us if we give her to the Chopper! None of us should have a black stripe for what she did!"

"You heard what the lady said," the first voice snapped. "She won't believe us."

"We've got to try. Got to make them see she's the only one to blame."

As the voices plotted Credence's doom, she pushed through the unseen crowd, using darkness as a cover to feel her way towards a wall.

She found a corner and pressed her back to it, trying to hide from the growing revolt against her.

They were right, and she was the cause of what happened—but how could they not see that she had helped them? They saw the monster in the courtyard, and how it tried to kill her.

She saved them.

Saved them from what, her mind bit back. You've only brought more trouble upon them.

Someone stepped on her foot and Credence released a yelp in surprise.

"Sorry," a small voice whimpered. "Can't see."

Tiny hands pushed on her chest and shoulders.

"Tildy?" Credence asked, recognizing the voice. "Is that you?"

"Yeah," Tildy answered. "Who are you?"

Credence bit the inside of her cheek, not sure if it was wise to give herself away.

"It's Credence," she whispered as quietly as she could, deciding she could trust the little girl who loved and admired her. 

"Oh." Tildy's voice was absent of emotion. "Go away."

"What? Why?"

"They said you killed Headmaster. And your hands had fire and your eyes glowed."

"That's not true, how could my eyes glow?"

"You're a witch."

Tildy's hands pushed Credence's stomach, trying to force her away.

"Tildy, be still! I'm not a witch—I saved you!"

"I don't like you—GET AWAY FROM ME!"

Tildy's voice rose into a scream that carried through the room.

"YOU'RE A WITCH!"

Credence scrambled to get away before anyone else could place and grab her.

Tildy continued to scream the word, 'witch', and the energy of the room shifted from fear to anger. As Credence moved through the crowd, she heard voices responding to Tildy's cries.

"It's the girl who killed him!"

"Where is she?"

"Murderer!"

"She's why we're here!"

"We should hold her down—"

"We should hurt her!"

In an instant, Credence was an outcast, and the sole target for scorn.

What would happen if light came back into the room? What would they do when they could find her?

They'll tear me apart, she thought with a shiver.

Or they might convince the towns to give her a black stripe.

She found another wall and sat against it, tucking her knees into her chest.

Credence didn't want to fight them, but she was beginning to fear she might not have a choice.

She was their savior.

And they would damn her for it.