With the eyes of an avenging angel, a figure cloaked in darkness stared down at the gathering of angry villagers.

Below the silhouette, was a round area bustling with villagers; children were huddled close to their families, and adults armed with torches and pitchforks stood protectivly in front of them. At the center of the area was a tall wooden post with a plentiful amount of hay and sticks scattered beneath it.

"They caught the witch? ", a woman whispered to another.

"Took them long enough", she replied, "My money is on Mrs. Crooner, that ridiculous cat lady."

Whispers and murmurs rose from the villagers, filling her ears with voices she gladly pushed out. Her eyes searched the crowd.

She paused.

Movement.

The crowd was moving but with uncertainty.

This one had purpose.

Movement from between two houses caught her attention. Two figures suddenly materialized from the darkness and paved their way into the torches' harsh light.

Like a panther stalking her prey, the figure that no one seemed to notice leaned forward, eager to see what would happen next.

Murmurs erupted as the people gathered watched the two with expressions of hatred and fear etched in their faces. The crowd parted, allowing a man and a girl to draw close to the post.

The two were a strange pair. The black-haired man was tall, muscular, messy and dirty, much like a blacksmith. His oily scarred hands dragging the girl by the rope on her wrists.

The girl was slender and petite with long redish hair and bright, fearful green eyes. Her hands were bound by a rope and her mouth gagged by a cloth.

"Kill the witch! Kill the witch!", chanted the crowd.

Pitchforks and torches were aimed at the girl, in case she dared moved towards them.

A man dressed in fine satin clothes stood at the center of the crowd. With a grim face, he rose his voice in order to be heard above the sea of voices. "SILENCE!"

Silence came down upon the crowd and only the sound of whispering voices and the cackling red fire remained. The orange flames cast ugly long black shadows on the cobblestone ground.

"Here, we have Rose", the man said, gesturing to the girl bound by rope. "Who is accused of practicing witchcraft in our village! Is this true, Sanje? "

The man holding Rose , Sanje, nodded. "Indeed, Timothy. I caught her stealing plants from the graveyard, most probably to create potions and such!"

"Witch!"

"Demoness!"

"Kill her!"

The crowd's voices rose but the figure on the roof stood still and watched with wrath burning in her eyes.

Timothy frowned, a look that made his stubby face look like smashed dough. "This is not enough to prove that she is a witch--"

"She has fiery red hair! The color of the fire in hell! ", screamed a man from the crowd.

"She uses her left-hand to write! And her eyes! They are green! She must be a witch! ", piped a woman.

"She collects mushrooms from the lake! You know? The poisonous ones!"

"We need to hear her side to the story—", he reached to untie the cloth around her mouth, before the Baker's wife screamed.

"NO! She will bewitch you and plague your mind with her voice!"

"Kill her before she curses us!"

The crowd unleashed more and more information about the girl that 'supposedly' proved her a practicer of witchcraft. But the accused girl just stood before them, her head was held high but her eyes were stricken with fear.

The cloaked figure watched all this with great distate. But once her gaze met with Rose's, the rage buring in her stomach shifted to shame, guilt and fear. Green eyes stared back at her, full of fear, but behind that fear bloomed determination and love.

Tears rolled from her and Rose's eyes.

This was it.

The crowd was already pushing, screaming for Rose to die. Timothy was left no choice. Defeated, he allowed Sanje to drag the girl to the post. The girl's eyes was filled with tears, but she neither let them fall or let herself make a sound of sorrow.

With the help of Sanje, they Rose to the post, her already bound wrists tied above her; her knees roped together.

With great reluctance, Timothy grabbed the nearest torch and placed it on the hay stacked around Rose's feet.

The figure watched, unmoving as a pillar of blazing fire engulfed an unfazed Rose. The crowd roared in triumph. The accused witch's eyes met hers one last time, before a wall of fire envolped her in a painful embrace, wrapping her in a tower of fire and embers.

The memory of Rose's fearful, yet determined face never faded from the cloaked figure's mind.

As ash and smoke rose to the dark night sky, the figure turned, her back to the horrific scene below. With a silent whisper she vanished without a trace.

~

A scream escaped my lips as I bolted upright from my bed. Tears rolled from my eyes and a lump formed in my throat.

Reaching out to the nightstand, I picked up my phone and checked the time. It was 3:12 a.m.

'At this rate, I'll never fall asleep', I thought, laying back down.

I closed my eyes and did my best to ignore the memory of the dream I just had. The thought of it sent chills down my spine, despite the warm blanket on top of me.

That dream terrified me. It was because the girl tied to the post was a spitting image of me and every time I had that dream, I felt like my body was on fire.

A sudden pain forced me to muffle a scream.

'My leg' , I thought.

I lifted up my blanket and was greeted by a sight that caused fear to bloom inside my heart like a poisonous flower.

From my toes to my knees, my skin burned a vibrant red.

Burn marks.