This chapter contains scenes of physical and emotional abuse, as well as distressing imagery involving fire. Reader discretion is advised.
"Please… please don't do this…"
His voice trembled, barely louder than a whisper at first, but it cracked and broke as he fell to his knees. His wrists were bruised and bound, pinned behind him by the iron grip of the guards. His entire body trembled—not from fear for himself, but for the girl who stood just a few feet away, soaked in gasoline, her wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto his.
"Saira…"
Her name left his lips like a prayer, a plea, a final breath.
The villagers stood in silence, unmoving, their expressions cold and detached—as if they weren't about to commit something unthinkable. As if a young girl's life wasn't moments away from being snuffed out.
The head of the village, Zevera, stood at the center. His voice was emotionless when he gave the order.
"Burn her."
A gasp slipped from Alaric's throat. His heart shattered as their eyes met—his and Saira's—and the moment they did, she began to cry. No words were spoken between them, but in those few seconds, everything was said. Love. Apology. Desperation. Goodbye.
"Please! No! I beg you!" Alaric cried, violently thrashing against the guards' grip. His knees scraped against the rough earth.
"Take me instead! Burn me, kill me, torture me! Just—just let her go! Please, she did nothing wrong!"
But the guard on her side was already holding the torch.
Alaric screamed. "No!! Don't you dare—no, no, no!"
The torch touched the base of the wood pile. Flames erupted with a sudden roar, climbing rapidly, licking the air like a predator tasting blood.
Saira's screams pierced the night.
Alaric collapsed.
His body went limp in the guards' hold, and they let him fall, uncaring, like he was just another piece of garbage. His face struck the dirt, dust rising around him. He didn't move. He didn't speak. He didn't even cry.
He just… stared at the fire. As if his soul had been torn from his body and tossed into the flames with her.
Then his gaze slowly swept over the crowd—the villagers who stood still, watching like statues. Blank. Unfeeling. Monsters in human skin.
And then he saw her—his mother.
Tears filled her eyes. But she did nothing. She didn't move. Didn't reach for him. Didn't even call his name.
He broke.
The sobs returned, but they weren't the same. These were raw. Animalistic. The cries of a boy who had nothing left.
He curled into himself, clawing at the dirt, wishing he could crawl into the earth and disappear.
"Saira…" He whispered through the tears, as if just saying her name might bring her back.
The flames roared louder.
"Take him back to the house." Zevera commanded.
Only then did his family step forward. His brother grabbed him by the arm. His mother tried to help lift him.
But Alaric shoved them both away with surprising strength. His eyes burned with something darker than rage.
"You all killed her." He said, his voice hoarse, broken, but steady. "You stood there and watched as she screamed. As she begged. And none of you… none of you even flinched."
They said nothing.
He pointed a shaking finger toward them. "You're all monsters!"
Then his gaze locked onto Zevera.
"You killed my Saira."
Zevera remained stoic.
"She broke the village law." He said, as though reading a rulebook. "She knew the consequences. No woman in this village is allowed to choose her own partner. From the moment she was born, she belonged to Henderson. Her fate was sealed the moment she came into this world. You knew that. You brought this on her."
Alaric's vision blurred with tears.
"Then why didn't you kill me too?" He demanded, voice rising with each word. He grabbed Zevera by the collar, shaking him. "We both fell in love. Why is it only her who had to die?!"
Zevera's face twisted into something darker.
"Because you're a man." He said coldly.
"Men are allowed to make mistakes. Women are not. They must know their place."
A sharp crack echoed through the air as Alaric's fist struck Zevera's face.
Gasps rose from the crowd. No one had ever dared strike the head of the village.
Zevera clenched his jaw, blood staining his lip.
"Take him away." He growled.
Guards moved again, but Alaric pulled away, staggering toward the pyre. His eyes were locked on the last bits of flame still consuming the wood.
"Don't touch me." His voice was a low snarl.
"I regret being born in this cursed place. I regret every second I ever listened to you. I hate you. I hate you, father."
His mother reached for him. "Alaric, please.."
He didn't listen.
He walked toward the fire. Each step was slow, deliberate.
Zevera's face went pale. "No… Alaric, stop!"
But it was too late.
Alaric reached down, grabbed the burning torch from one of the guards, and turned back one last time.
His eyes met the crowd.
"You killed her. Because she loved me." His voice cracked. "That was her only sin. She was kind. Gentle. Brave. And you burned her alive for it."
He turned to the fire. The heat bit at his skin.
"Saira, my love…" He whispered. "You don't have to be alone anymore. I promised you forever. Not even death can take that from us."
"No! Alaric!!" his mother screamed.
"I'll find you in every lifetime." He said, and stepped into the fire.
The flames consumed him.
---
They say many have died for love.
But in a village where cruelty wore the mask of tradition, the story of Alaric—the firstborn son of the head of the village—and Saira—the daughter of a humble merchant—was buried in ash and silence.
But was it truly the end?
Or had fate only just begun to weave their love into something far greater… across lifetimes?
Because Souls like theirs… don't die. They return.