The firewood crackled as it burned.
In the dark night, with the moon at my back, my eyes, slumped down, blankly turned toward the flames. The fire rising in the middle of the vast clearing of the mountain tribunal was tall and fierce.
Within that, one nameless woman must be seated.
It was the ‘purification trial.’
The final means of throwing one’s body onto the pyre to inquire of God about the presence of sin.
Naturally, no sinner had ever returned alive until now. Even knowing that fact, the Saintess had stubbornly chosen this difficult path. The reason for that was also ridiculously absurd.
“Ian, there’s no need for you to die too.”
It was around the time I had barely composed myself and gone to the Saintess to say let’s stop now. The Saintess drew a firm line with me in a resolute manner.
It was as if no amount of persuasion would work.
For me, the Saintess’s stubbornness was resentful to the point of frustration.
“I won’t die… You…