Rain poured on Jaren’s head. The torrent was cold and heavy, and his head hung under the pressure. He stared at the wooden platform on which he stood. The water splashed against it, then rushed in any direction in it’s mad rush to reach the ground.
Shaking the rain from his hair, Jaren looked up into the downpour. The frigid drop stung his face and eyes, but as he maintained his resilient gaze, he felt a strange calm. A great darkness raged above him, but he stood in bold defiance, unflinching to its blows. As the wind whipped overheard, he watched the rain coil and snap like a sea of serpents, and he felt no fear. His heart was cold and numb as his face, nothing could awaken him from his inner death.
A man shouted, and Jaren dully rolled his head to watch him. It was the Magistrate, speaking to the crowd below. His voice was angry and intense, fists clenched and shaking against the rain. Jaren struggled to focus, to hear what was being spoken.
“...for crimes of impurity, and adultery against a knight of the court! Such action is punishable by death, to be carried out by the sword immediately!”
The Magistrate beckoned to the side of the platform, and a woman was dragged forth by two soldiers. She was beautiful, despite her torn clothing and bruised features. Rain soaked through her raven hair and into her robes, which in turn clung to her body, exposing her desirable figure. Jaren looked her up and down, and when his eyes settled on her face, he realized she was staring back into his.
“Do you have any final words, whore?” The Magistrates voice spat hatred and resentment, but the woman straightened herself in response. One guard pushed her forth on the platform. She stood on the edge of the deck, staring out at the mass, deafened by their insults and jeers. Jaren couldn’t tell if it was rain or tears on her face.
She suddenly turned and ran for him. Her body slammed against his, her arms wrapping tightly over his shoulders, she pulled her face to his ear.
“I am so sorry, Jaren. I love you, I have always loved you. I don’t know what I have done, forgive me.” The guards had grabbed her, attempting to rip her off of him. She clung and clawed, trying to pull herself back to him, but her strength failed her, and she stared back at him as they hauled her to the execution block.
“Maddy,” Jaren whispered his wife’s name as he stared back into her eyes. A surge of heat pulsed in his body, and his hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.
They turned her around and pressed her head against the block. Leather cords were wrapped around her wrists and neck, holding her down. Her body twisted and shook in futile attempts to return to her husband’s side. The executioner stepped forth, sword drawn.
“JAREN! I LOVE YOU! FORGIVE ME, I LO-” her scream ended as sword met flesh.
“MADDY!” Jaren’s face burned as the scream rung in his ears. It took him several moments to realize the voice was his. Like ice against sudden heat, he felt his insides snapping and shattering, and he fell forward, collapsing onto the boards.
He lifted his face, resting his chin against the planks beneath him. In front of him lay his wife’s head, free of her body, staring again back at him. He looked into her now lifeless eye, choking on a sob that had been seeking escape for days. He shuddered as it violently freed itself.
Within a moment, it was gone, and he spat bile from his mouth as he brought himself to his knees. Looking again to his wife, his face reflected the dead calm of hers.
“I forgive you. I still love you.”
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