"BRING FORWARD THE ACCUSED!" rang a loud voice. Armed soldiers moved forward into the large circular stadium. Four in particular surrounded someone in rags and chains. As the soldiers stopped the looked to the owner of the voice, A grizzled old man stood behind a large podium several feet in the air, so that he could be seen by the people in the audience as well as the one's on the ground. The man nodded to them and the soldiers took their prisoner roughly by the arms and chained them secularly to a wooden pole on a large platform made of wood, in the middle of the room.
"Don't I even get a proper trial?" asked the prisoner who was now glaring at her guards for pulling on her chains to hard. The old man looked at her sharply.
"Frankly, a trial would be a waste of time. The world knows the crimes you committed. There is not a single person who doubts it." Disgust dripped from his voice, and a tinge of fear that could only be heard by the prisoner. She looked at him and smiled.
"You all still fear me? How pleasant." She laughed. The audience stared at the women chained to the pole. She was dirty, ragged, and in chains. Yet in every pair of eyes present, and even in those who where watching the proceeding from a television in their homes, were fear. There was anger and hatred, disgust even, but everyone was afraid.
"We have every right to fear you. The horrors you have done will strike fear into the hearts of man for centuries to come." The old man's voice was soft but rang clearly thought the entire stadium.
"Horrors you say? How interesting. You could you perchance tell me these atrocities that I have done sir Justin? I seem to have forgotten." She looked him straight in the eye. Later, when asked about what he saw at that moment, he would break out in a sweat and whisper, in a barely audible voice, "Nothing, I saw absolutely nothing. And that was the worst thing that I have ever seen, then and since."
"Is it really necessary?" he asked her in a weary tone, as if he was tired and wished that the whole day were over. But secretly, inside himself, he didn't want to remember.
"Yes, call me a worry wart. But I have a feeling that when this video is watched over and over again throughout the ages, if it is not said, then you all will forget."
"Perhaps we want to forget." Again, his voice had gone soft.
"And have all my work go to nothing, PUH-LEAZE. As if. It's not only disrespectful to me, but to all those poor loved ones lost in these many years." Her eyes bored into him. Daring him to say what she had done.
"Very well, if only to keep these monstrosities from happening again." He cleared his throat. "Lady Erika, you are guilty of the following crimes. Using your private army to destroy entire villages. Using your witch powers to kill innocents. Kidnapping children from their parents and taking orphans from the streets, and putting them into schools where they fought to the death, until each year of students only had ten students left, who would then become you elite assassins. Blackmailing people to do your will, and in situation where that didn't work, you tortured the victim and/or their families. Using mind control on the leaders of other countries, in order to take over their countries. And in some cases where you didn't do that you took over the countries by force. " He took a breath, then in a louder, angrier voice, "You have cause havoc and destruction on this world! The people lived in fear, starving, and dying. You tortured and killed. Your army was ruthless and destroyed anyone in your way. The streets became too dangerous to walk on as gangs took control of the cities bowing to nobody but you. The world was in chaos and you did nothing but put it there and make it worse. Now I have a question for you. Why? WHY DID YOU DO IT?" he screamed the last part at her.
"Why? I wonder why…" she looked as if she was thinking. "But in the end does it really matter?"
"I suppose not." He looked at her hard, "Guard. Light the fire." One of the guards poured kerosene on the platform while another threw a lighter on it. As the fire grew in strength, Lady Erika, who must have been ignoring the heat, looked to him.
"I was lying when I said it didn't matter. I have a reason for what I did. And when my heir understands that reason, they will rule in my place." She said solemnly. Sir Justin's eye's widened.
"You didn't!" he cried.
"Yes I did. I cast a spell for an heir. One day they will understand all of this. And they will rule. I PROMISE YOU! THIS IS NOT OVER!" she laughed.
I straightened my eye patch. Today was the day. The day when I would finally go to the Magic Academy. After years of pleading and begging my parents, they had agreed. Of course I had to promise something in return. I had to have my eye patch charmed with a magic reducing spell.
The usual age of discovery, when someone can use magic, was 10-13. I had been born with magic. Ever since I can remember I've been able to use it. The sooner you can use magic the more powerful it is. Which is what I think scares my parents most. When I use magic I don't even use spells. I once tossed a car through a building when I was six.
My parents home schooled me and, instead of teaching me any magic, banned me from using it at all. Which was exceedingly difficult. I'm not always able to control it. The day that my parents said I could go, I got so exited that I broke every dish in the house. But the spell on my eye patch lowered my magic capability by a great deal.
"Dear, breakfast is ready." Mother called, jolting me out of my thoughts.
"Thanks." I said, heading to the kitchen.
"Are you sure you want to go?" my dad asked once I sat down at the table. He was still trying to talk me out of going.
"Of course! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity! Anyway I can't hide my magic forever. Eventually someone is going to find out, and it's illegal to have magic and not get an education." I replied. Dad grunted, mom giggled. Neither of them where happy about it, but I had a sound argument.
Actually I didn't care about the law at all. It had been a dream of mine to grow up and be a powerful witch. I wanted to help people. After thinking about it for years, I decided that I wanted to be a doctor. Helping the sick with healing magic. Unfortunately I wasn't very good at it. I hadn't tried much, but when I was 12 I had tried to heal a baby bird with a broken wing. Turned it into a hawk. However it didn't have a broken wing anymore.
I looked at my parents. My dad an ordinary man who was balding with glasses. Next to him was my mother, a woman with a perpetual smile on her face. However if you looked carefully you would notice that whenever she wasn't busy she was always ringing her hands together. As if she were worrying about something.
"We just worry about you dear. It's a new school, and you've never been to a school before. Plus you're going to be staying in the dorms." My mother said with a sigh. "Can't we talk you out of it?"
"No, Absolutely not. This is my dream mom. I can't just give up on it." But why did they want me to? Shouldn't they be encouraging me? Actually, why not ask them that. "Why don't you want me to go?"
"It's not that we don't want you to dear. It's just that…" mom looked to dad for help.
"There are things you don't understand yet." He said.
"You're cab is here. Be careful, and write us frequently." He kissed me on the head, avoiding the question.
Mom rushed me to the door shoving suitcases, coats, and money into my hand. As I ran to my cab I looked back at my mother and I noticed tears on her face. Which seemed appropriate considering I wouldn't be home for three years. What was off was my father in the window staring at me with a shadow on his face.