medieval · dark fantasy · magic · historical · survival · witch hunt · paranoia · moral ambiguity · inquisition
Cobblestones gleam wet under a moonless sky, a bitter wind carrying the scent of rain-soaked timber and old ashes. A half-built pyre claws at the darkness in the square’s heart, its beams throwing jagged shadows under sputtering torches. The mob has retreated, but the chains remain. They haul you from the cell, and the heavy tread of the gaoler follows close behind. you is accused of witchcraft and faces the pyre at dawn. Do you have any last words before the light returns?