In the lifeless border town, the dry northern wind had stripped away nearly all traces of vitality. When the gusts came, yellow sand blotted out the sky, coating the entire settlement in a layer of dust and ash. In such weather, even the people grew lethargic, bundling themselves in drab, threadbare wraps, reluctant to move.
Yet on this day, the town was unusually lively. Crowds gathered in the central square, craning their necks to witness the rare spectacle.
At the heart of the square stood a stake for burning. A slender young girl was bound to it, her body covered in wounds, her tattered clothes stained with blood and dirt until their original color was unrecognizable. She hung her head quietly, long hair falling in disarray to hide her face. Were it not for the faint rise and fall of her chest, one might have thought the figure on the stake was already dead.
After a long silence, a shout suddenly erupted from the crowd: "Burn her!"
The crowd stirred, emotion spreading like ripples on water.
"Burn the monster!"
Another cry rang out.
"Burn her! Burn her!" The shouts grew, one after another, merging into a chorus until the entire square thundered with unified roars.
Amid the overwhelming clamor, a black-clad man holding a torch stepped forward from the crowd and ignited the dry wood piled at the girl's feet.
The parched kindling caught instantly, becoming a sea of flame. Tormented by the heat, the girl on the stake began to writhe in agony. Fire raced up her clothes, engulfing her body. As her piercing screams filled the air, cheers erupted from the crowd.
The evil monster would be reduced to ash in the blaze; everything would be purified. Even the sunlight seemed clearer, as though divine radiance was pouring through the clouds to envelop the execution ground.
The holy light grew ever brighter. The flames, as if in fear, gradually shrank and finally died out altogether. A man in pristine white robes emerged from the crowd. His ornate attire stood in stark contrast to those around him, the hem embroidered with the swallowtail cross emblem of the Church of Light.
At the sight of the emblem, the people parted in reverence, clearing a path. At the end of that path, the ropes binding the girl—weakened by fire—snapped at last. The girl, her body charred black, fell heavily into the ashes below. Her mangled, bloodied hand reached desperately toward the man bathed in holy light, only to fall limp before touching his feet. Consciousness slipped into total darkness.
Pain surged through every limb like a tidal wave, and Mu Lin could not suppress a groan of agony. Her body felt heavy as lead, impossible to move. Her eyes were covered by a damp cloth, preventing her from opening them. A cool sensation touched her skin, slightly easing the burning torment.
"You're awake?" A man's voice, clear and cold as a spring in the far north.
"To survive being burned like this… as expected of a witch." He spoke words Mu Lin did not understand. Slender fingers brushed lightly over her body; only then did she realize she lay completely bare on the bed.
Wherever his fingers passed, cool relief spread through her, and the endless burning pain finally receded. Sensing her breathing steady, the man continued his ministrations while answering the questions swirling in her mind: "I don't know why you formed a pact with a heart demon. Your magic is so faint it's almost imperceptible, but it was indeed the heart demon dwelling within you that kept you alive. Heart demons feed on your desires and strength, growing ever stronger until they fully erode your consciousness and turn you into a true monster."
His tone remained utterly flat despite the cruel words, as though he were merely relating an ordinary fact: "You have two choices now. First, be executed here as a monster. Second, join the Church of Light and serve the Holy See from this day forward. The Church will suppress the heart demon inside you and ensure your safety."
"Will you choose death, or life?" He asked the question that decided her fate with complete indifference, finishing applying the ointment and waiting quietly for her answer.
There seemed no real choice at all. "I want to live," Mu Lin managed, her hoarse voice barely forming the three words.
Satisfied with the reply, the man rose from the bedside. "My name is Noyes. I am the High Priest of the Cis Holy See. I carry limited medicine; you need better treatment. Rest well tonight. At dawn tomorrow, we set out for the Holy See."