A profound silence enveloped the courtroom. Then, after a few moments, whispers began to emerge from the spectators’ gallery, growing in volume until the room buzzed with the noise.
A man’s voice pondered, “Has she finally begun to feel remorse?”
Beside him, a woman scoffed, her voice sharp, “It’s a charade. She knows she’ll be found guilty, so she’s merely trying to mitigate her punishment by confessing. But it won’t avail her.”
The judge’s gavel struck the bench sharply, demanding silence. “Quiet, quiet! This is a court, not a marketplace.”
Once the room fell silent, the judge declared, her voice firm, “Considering all the evidence presented against Miss Wallona Saelfoss, as well as her admission of guilt, and acknowledging her heinous crime of parricide, this court sentences her to be burnt at the stake.”
In the courtroom’s heavy silence, Wallona stood resolute, her fate now sealed. The weight of her crime bore down upon her, and yet, amidst the hushed whispers and judgmental gazes, a flicker of acceptance glimmered in her eyes. The judge’s words echoed in the chamber, a somber decree that sealed her destiny. The air grew thick with anticipation as the reality of her impending punishment settled upon her like a suffocating shroud.
The judge, her voice unwavering, concluded, “May the All-Mother guide your soul in the afterlife, and may justice be served.”
As the guards approached to escort her away, Wallona met her fate with a steady gaze, accepting the consequences of her actions. She walked away, her steps heavy but resolute, leaving behind the courtroom and the prying eyes of those who had condemned her. In the face of her impending ordeal, she found a semblance of peace, knowing that her confession, however desperate, had brought a measure of truth to the surface.
And so, Wallona Saelfoss, marked by tragedy and stained by her own deeds, marched towards her destiny with a heart burdened by guilt yet strangely lightened by acceptance. The courtroom doors closed behind her, muffling the sounds of judgment and leaving her to face the final chapter of her story alone.
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***
Wallona found herself back in the familiar, cold cell where she had awoken just one night ago. Yet, in that short span, her entire world had crumbled. Branded a parricide, a label she would carry until her inevitable end, she couldn’t help but think that her punishment was lenient. If she were in the judge’s seat, she would have chosen a far harsher fate for herself.
Her life, she mused, had been tragically brief. Ambitions remained unfulfilled, dreams forever shrouded in darkness. She remembered the days when she spoke of her aspirations with unyielding conviction, as if no force on earth could deter her from scaling the peaks of her ambitions. Now, she was about to embrace her demise without ever touching the foot of that metaphorical mountain.
She wasn’t resigned to her fate. Why had this terrible fate befallen her out of all the souls in this vast world? Why her? Now, all she could do was wait for death, drowning in self-pity within the confines of her dingy cell.
Regret gnawed at her soul. She should never have tampered with magic, an art she barely understood. Theoretical knowledge was one thing, practical application another entirely. Her teachers had implored her to practice, urging her to cast aside her childish fears, but she had ignored their warnings. Now, she reaped the bitter fruits of her ignorance, a taste that was as bitter as it was final.
In an attempt to distract herself, Wallona gazed out of her small window, where the moon hung full and radiant, casting an eerie glow within her cell. In its luminescence, she contemplated her insignificance, not just in front of the celestial body but in the grand tapestry of humanity. People came into this world for fleeting moments, their breath mingling with the air before they returned to the earth, leaving behind nothing but decaying remnants swallowed by time.
Perhaps her failure to leave a mark was a blessing. After all, what was the pursuit of legacy but a futile attempt to escape one’s own insignificance? Maybe it was for the best that she hadn’t etched her existence into the annals of history, sparing nature the burden of recycling her meager existence.
Lost in her musings, Wallona drifted into an uneasy sleep, where fragments of her childhood flickered in her dreams. The sudden noise of her cell door opening shattered her slumber, flooding the room with harsh yellow light and a biting chill that seeped into her very soul. The final chapter of her life had arrived.
A figure clad in black robes stood before her, bearing a spear in one hand and eyes devoid of mortal emotions. The guide to her final journey had come. He extended a frigid hand, gripping her arm with a firmness that made her shudder. His touch was like ice, but he paid no heed to her discomfort. With a swift but forceful motion, he led her out of the cell and down the stairs that descended toward her inevitable demise.
In the span of a few hours, nothing in her surroundings had changed, yet everything felt different. The guards, once indifferent, now displayed a semblance of empathy, and the prisoners, previously despondent, seemed to find solace in their roles. Her role in this world had concluded, and now it was time for her exit.
The door to freedom loomed before her, but it was a peculiar kind of freedom. Stepping outside the pyramid, the scorching sun beat down upon the world, offering warmth and comfort to those who relished it. To Wallona, it was merely a prelude to unfulfilled dreams and melodies silenced.