The sun that settled across the city of Griesshafen was pale in the early morning light, streaking its god rays over the stone and wood rooftops with a faint yet warm caress. Out in the pleasant glow one could almost feel safe, for in the shadows of the alleyways - the tight-knit corners of stinking sewage and mud - monsters lay await in the dark.<br/><br/>Despite the uncommon sightings of these beasts, flesh-eaters preying on the human population in plain sight, fear and panic remained. Any outgoing peasant could be rendered quiet by the mere mention of the monsters that haunted the lands, their influence a brooding presence that lingered in the corners of every village and city. The constant paranoia of being a meal to a much scarier and unknown force incited a spark of terror. A disease, a madness, sweeping across the territories like an out-of-control wildfire, a massive witch hunt took root and many innocents were accused of being the monsters they feared the most.<br/><br/>And Siria was one of these, a victim of circumstance.<br/><br/>In the wrong place at the wrong time, she had been caught by a small patrol of city guards, and her excuse of “going out for a morning stroll” was not enough to dissuade them. Perhaps it was her unnaturally light hair, catching in the sun its pale white gold sheen as she exited her humble abode and was halted in the act of leaving. Or maybe it was because she was past the age of marrying, alone and with no family to her name, a suspicious fact of itself. Siria was a plebian, a bit more well-mannered than most, but who would miss her? They’d been looking for an excuse to get rid of her from the start and the town’s populace had grown restless in their desire to watch a monster burn for their sense of relief.<br/><br/>Siria just happened to be the lucky contender of the day.<br/><br/>The four men that found her guilty of baseless accusations immediately brought her in for interrogation, and even then, refused to trial her appropriately. It fell like clockwork, and after charging her for being one of the devil’s daughters, paraded her through the grimy horse trodden streets towards the center square. There was no chance for her to justify. From the jail cell to the cobblestone road they abused her if she attempted to protest.<br/><br/>The ropes bit into her wrists, sharp teeth of coarse fibers sawing into pale skin like the prickle of needles. She had stopped struggling once her hands were tied behind her back, leaving a raw and agitated mess where the bindings had already done their damage. It was physical reminders, dark red bruises inciting an innocence she was unable to proclaim. The thick fingers that bound the primitive restraints perched roughly on her left shoulder, forcing her to move along with more force than necessary. They marched to the courtyard, steel-toed boots tapping in unison with the clinking of chain mail a dull war drum.<br/><br/>“Keep moving, wench!” The eldest soldier barked once they broached the spacious city center, glancing over his steel-plated shoulder to show off a snarling mouth of rotten teeth. Yellow and crooked. “You’ll be burned at the stake for your crimes.”<br/><br/>What crimes? Siria wanted to ask, but stilled her tongue to swallow the question. Her right cheek was already swollen from the hits she received every time speech made itself known on her lips. And in turn, her eye. The once vibrant blue orb rendered hazy from abuse, it stung and she did not want further rough handling.<br/><br/>She felt exposed beneath her underskirts. Having been forced to strip down, Siria wore nothing but the thin white shroud that would have gone beneath her gowns; bare-footed. Long blonde hair a mess about her face she appeared more like a ghost then a predator - a specter gazing into the moment of death instead of the infamous beast known as the Chimera, the monsters that preyed on human flesh and lurked from the shadows.<br/><br/>But the crowd did not know the difference. They only saw what they wanted, and that was a martyr to burn for heinous crimes.<br/><br/>They screamed at her, an uproar of fury and horror as the pack of guards guided her towards her funeral pyre. A long pole nailed into the ground, it was charred - blackened and burned with the remaining smell of burnt flesh. A new mound of wood had already been piled around it, a set of logs that would go up in flames with just one spark, and Siria morbidly wondered how many victims had fallen to the stake. She was next, wasn’t she?<br/><br/>“Up there, don’t stop.” The man at her shoulder seethed into her ear, unceremoniously dispatching her at the place of demise. A light breeze picked up and from her location center stage she could smell the foul stench of unwashed bodies; the filth of working peasants mingling among the ash. Many of the small throng were plebeian in nature, but keen eyes could make out the sparkle of silver and imported silks - the nobles standing isolated, far away and yet still there to get a taste of bloody carnage. Parasites. Vultures. All of them.<br/><br/>The captain of the guard was noticeable as he stepped out from the sidelines, centering himself in the view of all those gathered. Glittering in his gold plated armor, there was the crest of the church emblazoned on the back, and with his slicked hair and braided mustache, just his appearance alone commanded attention. He was a tall brute of a man, a mountain of stern muscle packed away in a frame that screamed of the authority he wielded. His vision slid across Siria and the grey eyes, two pits of hard pressed coal, took on a sharp and steely glint. “Tie her up.” A line of rope he had brought with him for just the occasion was tossed to the eldest guard that had been escorting her and as the men heeded his command, he procured a parchment from within his vest. Unfurling it with the flick of a wrist, the imposing captain addressed today’s unfortunate victim.<br/><br/>“You stand here today accused of being one of the beasts that plagues these lands, an accursed wretch to feed off of us all. Your crimes are that of a murderer, wench, though you and your kind deserve far worse.” He peered over the scrap of dried paper, disdain in his gaze as he then proceeded to roll it back into proper place. “How do you plead?”<br/><br/>Though her entire body was bound to the post, near crushing the air from her lungs, she was able to squeeze out a few choice words in apparent defiance. “Cowards. You’re looking for a victim to pin blame on and go for the innocent just to satisfy your fears. I hope you all rot in hell or in the belly of the beasts themselves!”<br/><br/>“The daughter of the devil is guilty!” The captain interrupted, the grit of his jaw hard. “May she burn for her sins!” He yelled over the throng and signaled to a man under his watch to prepare the pyre.<br/><br/>She took her last breaths. The crowd hurled insults and foul, cruel words. And the torch was lit.<br/><br/>The fire bearer drew close, burning hot orange and sending up a suffocating cloud of smoke, and Siria turned her head to the sky as best as she could. High above, carefree and lazy swung a murder of crows, soaring on their black wings with nary a worry. Their cries were ominous and yet, if that was to be the last she saw splattered across the wide blue sky, strangely peaceful.<br/><br/>From the heart of the city, cathedral bells tolled.