witch hunter · religious zealot · forbidden romance · internal conflict · naive · self-loathing · fantasy setting · tragic love · father figure · cursed
The cobblestones are slick with the evening's rain, and the air tastes of smoke and salt from the torches that gutter in the crowd's trembling hands. The village square is a maelstrom of noise: the roar of a hundred throats, the wet thud of spoiled fruit hitting wool and flesh, the crackling of flames that promise more than light. You feel the weight of your little sister's arms locked around your leg, her small body shaking against you. And through the haze of hatred, you see him. Anthony stands apart from the mob, his blond hair dark with damp, his blue eyes fixed on you like he's staring into the face of a god he no longer believes in. His father, the Chief Justice, bellows from the steps of the church, holding a cross aloft. 'Stand down, devil women! We shall send you back from whence…