The door burst open, crashing against the wall with a force that made Aelric flinch inside his cramped hiding space. The guards flooded in, their heavy boots thudding against the floor as they barked orders and searched the house. Aelric held his breath, pressing his back against the closet wall, his heart pounding in his chest. His side throbbed where the wound still hadn’t fully healed, but the adrenaline kept him sharp, focused.

“This is it, Elda,” one of the guards snarled. “We know he’s been hiding here. You better hand him over, or you’ll face charges of harboring a criminal—alongside aiding a murderer.”

Aelric’s stomach twisted as he heard Elda’s voice, steady but strained. “I told you, he’s not here. You’ve already searched my home.”

“Not thoroughly enough,” another guard growled. “We’ve had witnesses—someone came forward and said they’ve seen you associating with him. Step aside.”

Aelric’s pulse raced. The closet was barely a few feet away, and the guards were getting closer. He could hear the faint shuffle of their boots against the floorboards, the creak of their armor, the tense mutterings between them.

Suddenly, the closet door swung open.

Aelric froze, his heart leaping into his throat. The light from the room spilled into the small space, and he met the cold, hard gaze of one of the guards. The man’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, time seemed to stop.

“There he is!” the guard shouted.

Before Aelric could react, the guard lunged forward, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him out of the closet. Aelric stumbled, his weakened body unable to resist the rough handling. Pain flared in his side, and he gasped, clutching at his wound as the room spun around him.

“Get him up!” one of the other guards barked.

Two more guards rushed forward, seizing Aelric by his arms and dragging him toward the door. Elda’s protests filled the room, but they were drowned out by the commotion.

Aelric struggled weakly, his mind reeling. He couldn’t go with them. He couldn’t face the town, not after what had happened. The weight of Calder’s death still hung over him, suffocating him. They would never believe it was self-defense. They’d only see the magic.

“You too, Elda,” one of the guards snapped. “Harboring a witch is as much a crime as practicing magic itself.”

Elda’s voice caught in her throat as they pulled her alongside Aelric. “I only tried to help him—he’s not a murderer.”

“Tell it to the council,” a guard sneered, shoving them both toward the door.

The street outside was already filled with people. Word had spread fast, and a crowd had gathered, murmuring and pointing as the guards dragged Aelric and Elda into the open. Aelric’s heart sank as he saw the familiar faces of the townsfolk, their expressions a mix of curiosity, fear, and anger.

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“There he is!” someone shouted from the crowd. “The witch!”

Aelric felt a wave of panic rise in his chest. The crowd was growing restless, their whispers turning into accusations. His head spun, the pain from his wound intensifying with every step. The guards pulled him and Elda toward the center of town, where the council meeting was to be held.

As they neared the council hall, Aelric’s mind raced. He had to think of something. He couldn’t let them condemn both of them like this. But the fear, the exhaustion, and the pain were overwhelming. His thoughts were a blur, and his magic, weak and unstable, flickered faintly in his chest.

They reached the council hall, and the heavy wooden doors creaked open. The guards shoved Aelric and Elda inside. Aelric stumbled forward, barely catching himself before he fell. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with tension.

The council members sat at a long table, their faces grim as they watched Aelric and Elda being dragged in. At the head of the table sat the council leader, his expression cold and unreadable.

“Bring them forward,” the leader commanded.

The guards complied, hauling Aelric and Elda to their feet and shoving them toward the center of the room. Aelric swayed slightly, his vision blurring at the edges from pain and exhaustion. His breath came in ragged gasps, but he forced himself to stay upright.

“You are Aelric of Delsworth,” the council leader said, his voice echoing in the chamber. “You stand accused of the murder of Calder, a respected guard of this town, and the use of forbidden magic. And you, Elda, stand accused of harboring this criminal and aiding in the cover-up of his crime.”

Aelric’s heart sank. This was worse than he had imagined.

Elda raised her head, her voice trembling but defiant. “He’s not a murderer. He was defending himself.”

The council leader’s gaze turned icy. “Calder was found burned beyond recognition. Magic was clearly involved. And we all know magic users are dangerous.”

“It wasn’t murder,” Aelric croaked, his voice barely audible. “It was… it was self-defense.”

The leader leaned forward. “And yet, Calder is dead, while you stand before us. Magic was involved, wasn’t it?”

Aelric’s heart skipped a beat. He could feel the eyes of the council on him, waiting for his response. But what could he say? The truth would only condemn him further.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Aelric whispered, his voice breaking. “He tried to kill me.”

The leader’s gaze was cold and unyielding. “And yet, you live, while Calder does not. We have no reason to believe your words over the evidence we’ve seen.”

Aelric’s breath caught in his throat. He could feel the magic inside him, faint but still present, swirling beneath his skin. But if he admitted to using it, there would be no saving him.

“Enough,” the leader said, cutting off any further protest. “The council has deliberated. We find both Aelric and Elda guilty of the charges brought against them.”

A murmur swept through the room. Aelric’s vision blurred as panic gripped him.

“Magic is at play here,” the council leader continued, his voice steady and cold. “And in accordance with the laws of our town, the punishment for the use of magic is death by fire. An inquisitor from the church has been summoned to verify and witness the execution. Until then, you will both be held in the dungeon.”

Aelric’s stomach lurched. Death by fire. His hands trembled at the thought, the memory of flames consuming Calder still fresh in his mind. And Elda… they were going to execute her as well. For helping him.

“Take them away,” the leader ordered.

The guards seized Aelric and Elda once again, dragging them from the hall. As they were pulled into the cold night air, Aelric’s mind raced. There had to be a way out. But his strength was failing, and his magic was too weak to fight back.

They were thrown into a dark, damp cell in the town dungeon, the heavy iron door slamming shut behind them. The walls were cold, the air thick with the smell of decay. Aelric collapsed against the wall, his body shaking with exhaustion.

Elda sat beside him, her face pale and drawn. “What are we going to do?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Aelric didn’t have an answer. All he could feel was the crushing weight of their fate looming over them. Days would pass. The inquisitor would arrive. And they would burn.