The cell was freezing. The walls wept with moisture, and in the air floated that smell of damp stone and moldy straw that made her nauseous.
Mylova stayed still for a long time, her back against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest. Her hands trembled, but not from fear. Rather from a strange clarity.
She thought back on everything. On Louis, his awkward smile, the way he took her hand to help her cross even a simple threshold as if she carried the whole world on her shoulders. On her father, who had always tried to protect her, sometimes clumsily but sincerely. On Mark, the strong, silent brother, whose presence was reassuring even without words. On Margaret, about to bring life into this hell. And on Vanessa... the little innocent light who had asked nothing from this world.
A cold breath swept through the cell. She closed her eyes and gripped the piece of mirror she had found on the floor.
— Forgive me, but I refuse to let them take my life... I love you all deeply.
And, as if carried by the wind, that invisible whisper crossed the stone walls. In their own cells, her father, Mark, Margaret, and even little Vanessa felt that icy shiver run down their spines. They didn't understand immediately, but a terrible certainty sank into their hearts. They had heard her...
Further away, in the crowd gathered for the judgment, Louis, who had mingled with the people trying to catch a glimpse of her, suddenly felt a burning pain in his chest. He clutched his heart. His legs grew heavy. He felt it — she dared not? Could she? Mylova!! Why are you doing this!!!!
At that very moment, Louis screamed in the crowd. It was not only a human cry — it was the howl of a soul being torn apart. A sharp pain, like the blade Mylova had just deliberately plunged into her chest. He bent under the invisible impact, gasping, unable to breathe.
And when Mylova breathed her last, he felt a coldness rising from his gut, as if half of his soul had been ripped out to die with her.
— NOooooooo! Why are you doing this to me!!!!!! Why, my life...
His cry echoed across the square. Gripped by uncontrollable rage and despair, he began to run toward the abbey, pushing through the crowd. The guards tried to hold him back, but he shoved them aside like a man ready to die.
He arrived in the courtyard just as one of the abbots emerged with a sneer.
— You want to see the truth? Then look.
— The devil's servant, corrupter of souls, enemy of God, refuses to die by the Lord's hand, so she took her own life.
And without mercy, they threw the lifeless body of Mylova before him.
Louis fell to his knees. His trembling hands brushed her cold face. Tears flooded his cheeks, but no words could pass his lips. Only that immense, unbearable emptiness... that of half of himself that would never return.
— Take your thing and leave, before she infects the place.
Still stunned, Louis could not say a word. So slowly, he lifted her, cradled her like a princess, and carried her out.
Everyone there to witness her judgment was stunned. Quietly, the crowd parted to let Louis pass. No one dared speak. At the edge of the crowd, a figure blocked his way — it was Céleste.
She was about to speak, but Louis stopped her immediately.
— No... say nothing. The sound of your voice could kill her a second time...
So, without a word, tears in her eyes, she let him go.
Slowly, he walked toward the cemetery. He dug a grave and buried the beautiful woman.
But once he had mourned, he found no other course but revenge... and he was going to deliver justice for his beloved wife.
All night, he stayed by the cemetery, plotting a plan — and none seemed cruel enough.
Just as he was about to sink into a dreamless sleep, he heard a small voice whisper to him:
— They are emissaries of hell, and there is fire there. You must send them back by fire...