Erybelle: Stand your ground.
From Create Your Own Story
You gulp and take in a deep breath of chilly morning air but all it does is make you feel even more numb. You're going to take a stand. No more scaredy-cat Erybelle. You try and picture what Maple would tell you in this situation, how she would smooth your hair back and tell you not to be afraid. It helps a little bit, but it's quickly drowned out by the footsteps of the stranger.
Klonp, klonp, klonp, klonp...
"I know what you've done." Is all he says once he reaches your table, looking down on you over the bridge of his nose. He spits it out, as if each syllable were wasted on you. No... You can't let him know you're afraid. For some reason you feel like he can sense it already, though.
"It is too late to repent, witch." He laughs, a harsh growl, as he leans down closer and closer until you can see your own reflection in his glassy eyes. You look so small... so vulnerable. No, no, no, no!
"Maple... Maple where are you?" You whisper, inching backwards, your whole body screaming to run and hide.
"Your partner in evil cannot help you now. Today is your judgement day, you must be purified with the flames from where you first came. It is the only way to save our souls and earn our entrance to eternity." His words don't make sense, all noise and static. There are suddenly so many more people, everywhere you look, in every direction. You know there is no escape.
Their faces are stony and cold and you can't believe you and Maple wanted to help these people. They are nothing more than monsters with human faces, a shell hiding something so much more sinister.
Rough rope is tied around your hands, stinging, burning as it chaffs your skin. Torches are suddenly raised into the air, smelling of sulfur and death. Innocence has died today.
Hands carry you, their grip tight but you barely feel it. Maple... You must see her one last time. You have to know that she's safe. You'll do anything for it.
Then you see her.
Dressed in the same simple and elegant white dress as you, wearing the same crown of white carnations that you made her just the other day. It mirrors your own, made by her hands, now tied behind her back to the stake that she stands back to back with. Tears and dirt are smeared across her face as you meet eyes. You stare at her, trying to apologize for anything and everything. You want nothing more than to hold her hand and memorize her face, her smile, everything that made you come to love her.
What should you do now?
