It may be true that a person can’t hear an image, but Lilia Calderu would make an exception for the tapestry in Alice’s trial.
One glance at the image of the burning woman and the screams came back to her, just as clearly as they did centuries ago.
Lilia remembered that day just as clearly as if it were yesterday.
For weeks, she’d been forced to move from town to town, never able to stay in one place for long. Tragedy never seemed to cease when she was around.
Every time she’d think that it could be different. Maybe her predictions could save someone for once.
And every time she had to live with being wrong, sometimes even blamed for the tragedy itself.
She was beginning to lose track of the number of threats she’d received. People wanted to see her exiled, burned, hanged, drowned…
It was nothing short of exhausting.
The year was 1568. Lilia had been staying in a village in Scotland for four years. It was the longest she’d been in one place for well over a century.
Naturally, that meant the worst was yet to come.
In her time at the village, Lillia had managed to even build her own community. Young girls with an affinity for witchcraft had sought her out, despite her initial efforts to push them away, since drawing any attention to her skills was a sure way to end up dead.
Eventually, she realized that the other witches in the town were better off learning from her than being left to handle their own abilities with no understanding of them.
Maybe had it lasted longer, she would have admitted to herself that it was nice to have a coven again. Not that she’d ever called them that. But “blessing and burdens” were certainly shared, and Lilia was happier for it.
Things started to get worse when the new head priest took over the village church. In the past, Lilia and the other witches had no issues with the more religious folks in town- they simply stayed out of each other’s way. But this new man seemed set on ridding the town of anything he considered “sinful.”
Looking back, Lilia knew that this situation could only end in pain. Blinded by her desperation to save the life she had longed for, she dove headfirst into a losing battle.
At first, the new head priest didn’t seem unbearably difficult. He hated the idea of women existing independently outside the home, but so did many others. Lilia shouldn’t have let her guard down.
Then the arrests started. Every single tragedy or mishap in the town managed to lead to the imprisonment of someone from the coven. The worst part was, none of them could find out exactly why and how. The imprisoned witches weren’t even given the dignity of being kept in the town holding cells. Instead, those accused of witchcraft were being forced to stay in the basement of the church itself.
The priest claimed the “proximity to the Lord would finally cleanse their souls of the evil and corruption within.”
Lilia couldn't decide if she was angrier over the imprisonments or the fact that a man who was the definition of corruption was the judge of it all. None of the women who he had accused were a danger- so how did he justify it?
It only took a few more days for Lilia to get her answer.
Sunday night, well into the hours of the evening, a sharp knock rang on Lilia’s door. She had been expecting it, but fear still gripped her. Gathering herself, she opened the door to face the priest and three other village men.
“May I help you?” She held the priest’s gaze. Her question was ignored as she was shoved back into her own home and forced into a chair by two of the men. They stood around her as the priest stepped forward, closing the door behind him.
“Why did you cause the roof of the inn to catch fire?” he asked.
“What?” Lilia hardly processed the words.
“Don’t play dumb,” drawled one of the men, who she now recognized as Edgar, the innkeeper.
The priest continued, “Yesterday, you told dear Edgar here that his roof was in danger of burning. Today, it is nothing but a pile of ashes.”
“It was a straw roof,” Lilia protested, “I warned him to try and help.”
The truth was, she had a vision of the burning roof the night before issuing the warning. Edgar had always been good to her, and she thought it appropriate to assist him.
Clearly, it had been a mistake.
“So good of you to warn him of your own future crimes,” the priest said placidly.
Lilia could already feel the trap closing but in a last desperate attempt argued, “I wasn’t even near the inn when the fire began! I was-”
Edgar cut her off, “Your kind doesn't need to be at the scene of the crime to be the cause…witch.”
The priest nodded solemnly, “Lilia, you have been found to be a follower of the devil and a practitioner of the dark arts. For this, you must be kept away from the decent folk trying to live their lives under the rule of the one true God.”
Lilia sprung to her feet and made a run for the door, darting under the outstretched arms of the priest. The cool night air hit her face and she broke into a sprint for the woods. She could make it. Just a little further-
The air left her lungs as she was tackled to the ground.
“Resisting arrest now?” the priest asked. “You cannot run from the will of God.”
Lilia was dragged to her feet and all but dragged back to the main streets. No matter how much she struggled, the iron grip on her wouldn’t budge.
The church loomed in the distance, the singular red lantern glimmering through the window.
As the doors creaked open, the smell of incense nearly choked Lilia as she was forced down a dark set of stairs and thrown into a windowless room.
The priest looked down at her, barely visible in the darkness.
“You could never hope to understand, and I don’t expect you to. But this is for the good of everyone.”
He left, and the closing of the door left her in complete darkness.
Lilia tried to feel the walls for any way out, but it felt as though she had been left in a box of stone with no hope of escaping.
Time passed. It could have been hours, or days, all blending together in nothingness.
Her magic kept her stronger than most would have been, but Lilia knew she couldn’t hold out forever.
After what felt like an eternity, the door was finally opened again. Even the bit of light that came from the church floor above felt like a knife to Lilia’s eyes.
Her visitor was one of the lower-ranking priests, and he wordlessly bound her hands and dragged her up the stairs, out the doors of the church, and into the town square.
The sunlight blinded her for several moments, but when Lilia’s vision adjusted, she wished she hadn’t been able to see.
A set of pyres had been set up on one end of the square. Next to them, were newly-fashioned gallows. But the worst thing Lilia was forced to lay eyes upon was the other accused witches.
She counted at least thirteen of them. The oldest being almost sixty, the youngest only fifteen. All of them had been involved in her teachings in some way, whether it was healing, divination, potions, or protection magic. They all bore the marks of beatings.
The head priest stood in the middle of the square.
“I have gathered you all here today for a celebration,” he announced. Only then did Lilia notice the crows that had gathered around and in the square.
“A poison has spread through our town,” he continued. “Every day, it endangers you and your children. It pushes us all further from God, from light, from salvation.”
A murmur spread through the crowd as they listened.
He was good at this, thought Lilia. The men and women gathered held onto every word from him.
“Witchcraft is the work of the devil!” he shouted. “And these women before you have been found guilty of it. We cannot let this evil poison our lives and everything we stand for.”
The crowd roared its agreement. Mothers, husbands, and children of the accused women cheered right along with them.
It was a truly sickening sight.
The head priest approached Lilia. She held her head up, glaring straight ahead at him.
“I asked each one of them who corrupted them… all roads seemed to lead to you, Lilia,” he spoke softly.
“Those women have done nothing wrong,” pleaded Lilia.
He ignored her words. “Some of them gave you up right away, and will be sent to the gallows. A death fitting for a human sinner led astray.
“But the others who refused to confess? Who refused to admit their inner filth?
“They will burn.”
Lilia smelled smoke. Glancing around the priest, she saw the pyres being lit.
“And you, Lilia? You’ll get to watch first. Then you’ll be the last to burn.”
A scream split the air.
The head priest smiled, “The road to purity is full of hard choices. I can’t say that this was one of them.”
He stepped aside, giving her a full view of the scene before them.
“Enjoy the show.”
Lilia collapsed to her knees as he walked away.
More screams filled the air as smoke billowed away from the gallows. Lilia looked up and wished she hadn’t. Her eyes blurred with tears. All of them, doomed because of her.
Her knees curled into her chest as she cried, unable to do anything but shake with sobs knowing that she had caused the deaths of every witch crying out for mercy.
The tears made her vision shaky, but suddenly she saw clearly. A ring of flames, smoke filling her lungs-
A sharp kick to the side forced away the vision.
“Looks like it’s time for the last witch to burn,” said a voice next to her. Lila was unbound, pulled to her feet and marched towards the last pyre.
It stood taller than the rest, a small mountain of wood with a single stake at the top.
The heat from the other pyres grew stronger, as did the acrid scent of charred flesh. Lilia resisted the urge to vomit.
The new ropes binding her to the stake dug into her wrists. The crowd in front of her was ecstatic, as their energy had seemed to grow with each burned and hanged witch. Lilia stared ahead, ignoring their taunts and curses.
The head priest approached with a torch.
This is it, thought Lilia. Everything she’d seen, the glimpses of life beyond her current time- it was all a lie. She would never get to live those moments in full.
Lilia knew she would die with honor. She would not scream, or beg for mercy, or pray to the god used to justify her death and the death of her coven.
“The last witch!” shouted the head priest as he dropped the torch onto the pyre.
Flames raced up the neatly stacked firewood, the heat pulling air from her lungs.
Unexpectedly, the pyre started to crumble beneath her as the lower layers of wood turned to ash. The ropes holding her hands behind her slid down the stake, lower and lower until-
The ropes slipped off.
She was free.
The fire was all around her now, but she was still alive.
Without a second thought, she ran through the flames, ignoring the screams and gasps of onlookers.
She had burns and blisters from the fire all over her body, but she was alive.
No one would catch her now that she had broken free.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lilia saw the women burn.
She felt the heat of the fire.
It burned and blistered her skin, the smoke choking her.
She was back there, wasn’t she?
No, she was on the Witches’ Road.
It was so real, she must have slipped back.
Her lungs constricted, eyes filling with tears again.
She felt drenched in sweat-from the fire?
Her throat closed, ears ringing.
She tried to see, but her vision swam and warped.
Maestra had always told her to see, to feel, to sense-
But not a single one of her senses would respond.
She was stuck in the feeling, the past, a memory, a scar.
“Lilia?”
A hand came to rest on her shoulder, and Lilia cried out in response.
Jen stood beside her, a concerned expression on her face.
“They’re burning,” she whispered.
Jen looked up at the painting and understanding dawned in her eyes.
“Calderu, look at me,” she instructed.
Lilia tore her gaze away from the gruesome images and stared into dark brown eyes.
“You’re not there. You’re on the road and we need you.”
Lilia nodded, unable to control the way her hands-really her whole body- couldn’t stop shaking.
Jen hesitated, then after a moment pulled Lilia close and held her.
Lilia let herself relax in the other witch’s embrace. Jen was steady, unmovable- safe.
As the reality of their situation set in, Lilia eased her way out of Jen’s arms.
“You okay?”
Lilia could only nod.
Jen gave her a soft smile, “You had me scared for a second.”
“What are the others doing?” asked Lilia, looking around the room.
“Trying to figure out how to pass the trial.”
A voice rang through the loudspeakers. It was Rio.
“I’ll get to watch you do what you do best-kill every single witch around you.”
Lilia’s blood went cold. She searched for Rio, wondering how she could have known.
Every time she had formed a coven, she’d been the one to survive.
Rio couldn’t possibly know. If she did… it was Lilia’s greatest shame. Why would this stranger know it?
Rio went on, “You get your powers back, and I get my bodies.”
Jen pointed to a window.
Rio hadn’t been talking to Lilia.
She had been talking to Agatha.
Who was now putting on a show of being angry at Rio. Or not. Agatha was one of the few people Lilia couldn’t read like a book. Every one of her moves was unpredictable.
She was still in shock from the flashback, so when the demon talons that felt like hot irons were pressed into her back, she fell to her knees screaming.
It burned, just like the fire would have.
Eventually it subsided.
Lilia found herself in the fetal position, curled in the protection circle that Alice had drawn around her.
Alice, whose family had been haunted by fire too.
Then it came time to play the ballad.
Lilia could see the fear in Jen’s face reflecting her own. She gave the witch a reassuring smile as she reached for the zils sitting on a shelf.
This song was an anthem of power for witches. A song of hope, of bonds only made by magic.
Why did she still feel so powerless?
The burns from the talons still throbbed on her back.
The losses of her sisters hundreds of years ago weighed heavier on her heart than in years.
And now the room was on fire.
Lilia could feel herself slipping again.
Back to the pyre, back to the smoke in her lungs and death all around.
A shrill demon cry faintly broke through the music.
Lilia and Jen locked eyes, twin expressions of apprehension on their faces.
Lilia tried to lose herself in the rhythm of the music just as he had so many times before, but every sound of the curse, every noise from the fires around her, made her heart feel as though it had stopped and her skin crawl.
“If I can’t reach you, let my song teach you.”
Alice’s voice cut through the room, strong and sure.
The instruments in her hands shifted, but she kept the rhythm. She let herself truly feel the song, let it surround her.
Jen looked over at Lilia and they exchanged smiles.
This was what witchcraft was meant to be.
Collaboration.
Voices uniting and harmonizing as one.
When the curse appeared, Lilia was no longer paralyzed.
She trusted Alice.
She trusted the coven.
Her voice soared as she poured her heart into the performance.
The only intention was to protect Alice and kill the curse.
As the dust settled, she looked around at the witches.
Unbelievable as it was, she had found herself a family.
The piano opened to lead them into the next trial.
Lilia glanced over at Jen, who was staring in awe at the remains of the curse.
Taking Jen’s hand, they prepared to take on whatever the Road was yet to bring.