Those pale green eyes held no trace of childlike innocence. She stared at the people below with her large, seemingly bulging green eyes, unblinking, as if trying to etch each face into her memory.

The citizens nearest to her felt chills run down their spines under her gaze. They scooped up small stones from the ground and hurled them at her.

"You filthy wench, shut those damned eyes of yours!"

"Kill her, kill her!"

The stones struck Lidia's frail shoulder, and spots of blood seeped through her clothes.

She kept her eyes open, merely shifting her gaze to fix her numb, indifferent stare on those who had thrown the stones.

Though there was no hatred in her eyes, those who met her gaze were driven to madness.

They panicked as if they had seen a real demon, stumbling backward while desperately seeking help, trying to lose themselves in the crowd.

Some braver souls gathered handfuls of rubble, rushed forward, and pelted her with stones as if firing a barrage of cannonballs. Some hit the area around her, while others struck her body directly.

The sharp edges of the stones grazed Lidia's pointed chin, leaving a gaping wound on her face, but she didn't make a sound, as if impervious to pain.

The crowd grew restless, screaming in terror, pushing and shoving, demanding Lidia's immediate execution.

"She's an evil witch, she must be an evil witch!"

"She's looking at us with those demon eyes, she wants to taint our pure souls!"

"Don't let her see you, quick, hide!"

"Burn her, burn her!"

Among those calling for her to be burned were the aunt with poor eyesight whom she often helped with sewing, the frugal uncle who would slip her an extra piece of lamb when selling meat, neighbors who had watched her grow up, childhood playmates, and even passersby who had once seemed so kind.

Lidia stared at them intently, until she spotted the three fat, nauseating, excited faces hidden among them.

The Doggs, the butcher's family, were all corpulent. They gorged on meat daily, with unsold cuts always leftover in their shop. Lamb mixed with blood would flow down the chopping board, scenes she had scrubbed clean during countless sleepless nights.

Even the meat they couldn't sell or finish, she never got to taste.

The dogs in the house were better fed than her.

Lidia Doggs etched this scene deep in her heart. If witches and demons truly existed in this world, she would willingly embrace them, even if it meant offering her soul.

Better to be devoured by demons than by humans.

This was the thought of nine-year-old Lidia, weary of seeing the same ugly faces everywhere.

So she raised her head, looking towards the dazzling sky, wondering if there really were gods up there, if demons could truly hear her call.

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The monks and soldiers calmed the chaotic crowd. There were still a few minutes before the demon-expelling ritual began. They had to follow the strict procedures, or it would be disrespectful to God.

The spectators finally quieted down, glaring at the condemned with hateful eyes, silently lashing them with their gaze.

Time ticked by, second by second. Finally, only a few grains of sand remained in the hourglass. Once it emptied, the purifying flames would rise, and agonized screams would fill the air.

If anyone could withstand the fierce fire, they must surely be an evil witch or demon. The bishop himself would come to the stage with precious holy water to exorcise them, letting them die under the radiance of the sacred liquid.

The crowd watched the execution platform expectantly. Suddenly, a heart-wrenching cry erupted from the back of the crowd.

A gaunt, haggard middle-aged man carrying a gray infant corpse burst through the crowd. He stumbled to the foot of the platform, pulling out a woodcutter's axe from the burlap wrapping the dead baby.

"Susan isn't a follower of the dark god, Susan isn't! Let her go, let her go!"

"Get out, get out, don't interfere with our ritual."

The monks waved torches to drive the man away, but his expression grew increasingly manic. "It's you, you slandered Susan! Susan is a good mother, a good wife, she's not a follower of the dark god, you slandered her!"

On the platform, the farmer's wife who had been keeping her head down looked up, sobbing, her face streaked with tears. "Nick, go away, don't worry about me, just go."

Her voice grew louder until she was screaming, "Nick, go—"

"No, I won't go!" Nick brandished the axe, roaring at the monks, "Our child was sick, Susan killed the chicken to make an offering to the God of Life, not to a dark god, she didn't worship any dark god!"

"Oh, lost lambs," the cardinal in red robes emerged from the temple doors, his resonant voice drowning out the clamor, "Trust in God. God will not wrongly accuse a good person, nor will He let a bad person go unpunished."

"If your wife truly did not make offerings to a dark god, please accept our test. God will keep her safe."

Nick's hand holding the axe trembled. He was pondering the cardinal's words.

Reason told him that a living person would only be burned to death in fierce flames, but his thirty years of faith also told him to trust in God, not to go against God's will.

As he hesitated, the last grain of sand fell through the hourglass.

"Time's up, light the fire!"

The monks turned and walked up to the execution platform, raising their torches high.

Suddenly, a great wind swept across the platform, making it difficult for the monks to keep their eyes open.

Troy, blending into the crowd, evenly scattered dry ice fragments.

Dense white smoke rose from the ground, its tendrils reaching out in all directions, instantly engulfing the platform.

As the mist spread, dogs began barking incessantly across the square.

"What's happening, why is there suddenly fog?"

"It's so cold, my ankles are freezing!"

"Ah! My dog!"

"Spot, stop!"

For some unknown reason, the dogs went berserk, breaking free from their owners' leashes. Barking madly, they bolted away, disappearing from the square in the blink of an eye.

As people grew increasingly uneasy, a low, eerie voice suddenly resonated from all around them.

"Foolish humans, who dares to call upon my name."

The voice was harsh and grating, like a demon crawling out from the depths of the earth in the dead of night, whispering in their ears. Its tone was cold and unfeeling, with a hint of mockery and disdain.

People trembled, looking around frantically.

"Who, who's speaking?"

"Where is that voice coming from, why does it seem to be everywhere?"

"I know, it's, it's the devil, it's the devil!"

"The devil is here, the devil is here!"

The white mist grew thicker and rose higher. The monks' torches went out with a puff, as if blown out by an invisible demon. They cried out, dropping their torches and scrambling off the platform.

"Devil, it's the devil, run—"

Above the execution platform, a dense fog gradually dispersed, and pinpoints of eerie blue flames coalesced into a terrifying figure.

TBC