Welcome to a new part of Demon World unedited, we start right where we left off last time.
Now they were being tortured again, one by one, in the church in front of their parents, families, friends and teachers but none of them was going to rise one hand to make it stop, none of them was going to do anything to put an end to their misery, just in case talking in favor of the witches was to make them be suspected to be witches as well. It was madness. One after the other they had admitted their crime but they were still been tortured to repeat it again, to justify what had been done to them, to take the devil out of their human flesh, there wouldn’t be any rest for them except in death, going out of this world was the best choice now and even Sahel knew it. They were finally taken out of the church, their white dresses covered in blood. They walked on their bare feed, almost falling on each stones, they looked like lifeless zombies progressing because they were being pushed forward by the crow, to a large tree. Five cords had been prepared. They stood in line, one below the branch on a stove and they passed the rope around her neck tightening it and pushed the stove away. The clamors rose again as her neck broke, the others were looking away, they only carried a bit of humanity in this dehumanized crowed. They took her down and pushed the second forward, it was harder she was fighting. She knew what would happen to her now. She finally walked up on the stove with a new cord around her neck and her neck broke in the same way, her body hanging from the branch. Had they been witches, had they had had as much power as they were said to have, do you really think that they could have been caught that easily? Those people didn’t know what Magick was and they would never learn. They didn’t want to learn. The fear of the unknown was too strong, or the general ignorance maybe. Sahel kept on watching, hoping for a miracle. They were always praying for miracle in that church, for the rain to come for the harvest to be better than the preceding year, for a child to be cured from an unknown decease. People liked to ask god for miracles that would never come. Today it was his turn, to look at the girl one by one being hanged on the lowest branch of the tree. And to pray to the god he had so long neglected because it had neglected him. It was his only chance, his last chance. When they past the cord around her neck, he knew it was over, it would never be the same again.
“Witch do you have something to say to save your soul?” the priest asked.
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