Elara's POV
"Wait—what curse?" I grab Commander Thorne's arm before he can leave my cell. "What do you mean we're both dead?"
He pulls away from my touch like I've burned him. "Not here. Too many ears."
"But you said—"
"I said you're not burning today." His voice drops to barely a whisper. "Play along with what happens next, or we both end up on that pyre. Understand?"
Before I can answer, he grabs my wrist and yanks me out of the cell. His grip is bruising, painful. Nothing like the almost-gentle way he touched my hand seconds ago.
"Wait! What's happening?" I stumble after him.
He doesn't answer. Just drags me down the corridor past the other cells. Prisoners press against their bars, watching.
"The Stone Heart's got another one," someone mutters.
"Poor girl. She's done for."
The scarred woman catches my eye as we pass. She mouths two words: Be brave.
Commander Thorne hauls me up the dungeon steps. Sunlight blinds me after three days of darkness. I blink frantically, trying to see where we're going.
The execution square.
My heart stops.
It's massive—a wide-open space in front of the cathedral, surrounded by hundreds of people. They're already gathered, waiting. Excited. Like this is a festival instead of a murder.
In the center of the square stands a wooden platform. On top of it, a thick wooden stake with chains hanging from it. Around the base, bundles of kindling stacked head-high.
Someone's going to burn there today.
Me.
"No," I gasp, trying to pull away. "No, you said—"
"I said play along," Commander Thorne hisses in my ear. To everyone watching, it probably looks like he's threatening me. Maybe he is. "Trust me or die. Choose now."
Trust him? The man who's burned hundreds of witches? The Stone Heart who shows no mercy?
But he felt that curse. He knows I can sense it. And he looked desperate.
I stop fighting.
He drags me toward the platform. The crowd roars.
"Burn the witch!"
"Monster!"
"Demon!"
Their faces blur together—twisted with hate, with righteous fury. These people don't know me. Don't care that three days ago I was just a girl planning her wedding. All they see is a witch who deserves to die.
Commander Thorne pulls me up the platform steps. A priest in crimson robes stands beside the stake, holding a burning torch. The High Inquisitor himself—I recognize him from portraits. Thin face, sharp nose, eyes like a hawk hunting prey.
"Commander Thorne." The High Inquisitor's voice carries across the square. "You've brought us the demon who destroyed Lady Seraphine's sacred wedding?"
"Yes, High Inquisitor Vale." Commander Thorne's voice is flat, emotionless. "The witch Elara Morgrave."
Vale studies me with obvious disgust. "Has she confessed her crimes?"
"No, High Inquisitor."
"Pity. The people do enjoy a good confession." Vale turns to address the crowd. "Citizens of Ashenfell! Today we purge evil from our midst! This woman—this creature—used devil magic to defile a holy ceremony! She must burn so that our kingdom remains pure!"
The crowd screams approval.
My legs won't hold me anymore. I sink to my knees on the platform. This is real. This is actually happening.
Commander Thorne stands beside me like a statue. His face shows nothing. No pity, no hesitation, no sign of the desperate man who asked me about curses minutes ago.
Maybe I imagined it. Maybe the fear broke my mind and I hallucinated the whole thing.
Two priests grab my arms and drag me to the stake. They chain my wrists above my head. The metal bites into my skin. I can smell the kindling—dry wood and oil. It'll burn fast and hot.
"Any last words, witch?" High Inquisitor Vale asks.
I look out at the crowd. Somewhere in there might be Mother, Father, Seraphine. Adrian. People who claimed to love me before they knew what I was.
"I'm innocent," I say. My voice shakes but carries. "I never chose to be a witch. I never hurt anyone on purpose. And burning me won't make you righteous. It just makes you murderers."
The crowd boos. Someone throws rotten fruit. It hits my shoulder, splatters across my face.
Vale smiles coldly. "The demon speaks lies to the very end." He gestures to the priest with the torch. "Light it."
No.
No.
This can't be the end. I'm twenty-five years old. I haven't done anything with my life yet. Haven't traveled, haven't fallen in love, haven't figured out who I'm supposed to be.
The priest lowers the torch toward the kindling.
"STOP."
Commander Thorne's voice cuts through the noise like a blade.
The priest freezes. Vale turns, irritation flashing across his face.
"Commander? What is the meaning of—"
"This prisoner requires further interrogation at a secure location." Commander Thorne doesn't look at me. His eyes stay locked on Vale. "She may have information about other magic users. A network. Burning her now would be... premature."
The square goes silent. Everyone stares.
Vale's face darkens. "We have procedures, Commander. The people have gathered for an execution. We cannot simply—"
"With respect, High Inquisitor, the people's entertainment is less important than the security of our kingdom." Something dangerous creeps into Thorne's voice. "If there are more witches hiding in Ashenfell, we need to find them. And she's our only lead."
It's brilliant. Terrifying, but brilliant. He's making this about duty, about protecting the kingdom. Not about saving me.
Vale's jaw clenches. He clearly wants to argue, but Commander Thorne outranks everyone except Vale himself. And questioning the Stone Heart's dedication to hunting witches would look suspicious.
"How long do you need?" Vale asks tightly.
"As long as it takes."
"Unacceptable. I want daily reports on your progress. And if she doesn't provide useful information within one week, she burns. Understood?"
"Understood."
Vale nods sharply to the priests. "Release her. Temporarily."
The chains fall away from my wrists. I collapse, catching myself on my hands. My whole body shakes.
Commander Thorne grabs my arm and hauls me upright. He practically carries me off the platform. The crowd murmurs, confused and angry.
"We want justice!" someone shouts.
"Justice will be served," Vale calls back. "Just not today."
Commander Thorne drags me through the crowd toward a waiting carriage. Same black carriage as before. Same barred windows.
He throws me inside and climbs in after me. Slams the door. Pounds on the roof twice.
The carriage lurches forward.
For a long moment, neither of us speaks. I'm breathing too hard, my heart racing so fast I feel dizzy.
"That was insane," I finally gasp. "You just—in front of everyone—"
"You have one week to learn everything you can about your magic." He still won't look at me. "Specifically, curse-breaking."
"And if I can't break your curse in one week?"
"Then we go back to that square. And this time, I won't stop the priest from lighting the kindling."
The carriage turns sharply. Through the barred window, I see we're leaving the city. Heading into the mountains.
"Where are you taking me?"
Finally, he looks at me. Those storm-gray eyes are exhausted, haunted, and absolutely terrified beneath the cold mask.
"My fortress. Where no one can hear you scream when the training gets difficult." He pauses. "And where no one can hear me scream when the curse gets worse."
"How bad is it?" I whisper.
He pulls off his right glove with his teeth. Extends his hand.
The skin is gray. Not fully stone yet, but hardening. Spreading up from his fingertips like infection.
"It's killing me," he says quietly. "Has been for three years. Started after I executed a witch named Elena Cross. She cursed me with her dying breath—said I'd become stone in truth since I was already stone-hearted."
Three years. He's been dying for three years.
"Why me?" I ask. "Why save me specifically?"
"Because I've touched every witch I've arrested for the past three years, hoping one of them could sense the curse. None of them could." His gray eyes bore into mine. "You're the first. The only one. Which means you're the first person with strong enough magic to possibly break it."
Understanding crashes over me.
"You need me," I breathe. "You actually need me alive."
"Yes."
"And if I refuse to help you? If I try to escape?"
His expression goes cold again. "Then I drag you back to that square and burn you myself. Because if I'm dying anyway, I have nothing to lose."
The carriage hits a bump. I grip the seat, my mind racing.
He saved me from burning. But only for his own survival.
I should hate him. He's a monster who's killed hundreds of my kind.
But when I close my eyes, I see that gray skin spreading up his hand. Feel the desperate fear in his voice. Remember how he dropped to his knees in my cell.
The Stone Heart is cursed and dying.
And somehow, impossibly, I'm his only hope.
"One week," I say finally. "One week to learn magic I didn't know I had and break a curse I don't understand."
"One week," he confirms.
"And if I succeed?"
For the first time, something that might be hope flickers across his face. "Then maybe we both survive."
The fortress appears ahead—a massive black structure carved into the mountain itself. It looks like something from a nightmare.
The carriage stops. Commander Thorne opens the door and pulls me out.
"Welcome to your new prison," he says. Then adds, so quietly I almost miss it: "And mine."
He leads me inside. The door slams shut behind us.
And I realize with cold certainty that everything about my life has changed.
I'm no longer Elara Morgrave, merchant's daughter.
I'm no longer a bride-to-be planning her future.
I'm a witch who might be powerful enough to break curses.
And I'm trapped with the most dangerous man in the kingdom—a man who'll either die by my magic or condemn me to burn.
The real question is: which of us is the prisoner, and which is the captor?
Looking at his cursed hand and desperate eyes, I'm not sure either of us knows the answer.