Though her eyes may have been closed, Sybil could still hear the shrill shrieks of agony piercing her ears as the smell of charred flesh filled her nostrils.  It was a sound and stench she would never forget.  Tears streamed down her face and snot from her nose as the girl pleaded, begging with the soldiers to stop this and let them go.  There was a feeble naive hope that somehow her mother could survive.  That somehow she could think through the pain and use her magic to escape.  Sybil tried to remember her own teachings, if there was anything her mother had taught her that she could use to free herself from her own situation.  Her stomach churned with nausea, but the lack of food only resulted in violent heaving with nothing to show.

After what seemed like an eternity, the screaming finally ceased and all Sybil could hear was the sound of the flames crackling on the pyre.  The soldiers took her down from the pole and the girl opened her eyes, regretting the action immediately as she saw the blackened corpse of her mother hanging limply on the pole beside her.  As much as she wanted to look away from the morbid sight, her eyes never strayed.  Even when they dragged her off to the gallows, she craned her head in an attempt to look behind, to watch for as long as possible until she couldn't see anymore.  Flames of hatred birthed deep within her as she committed the sounds and the sight to memory.

A bag shoved over her head, she was shoved forcefully to her destination.  The tears had since stopped as she simply stood there awaiting her fate, tuning out the sound of the crowds and the last words of the men around her.  Hands clutched down by her side, she could feel her blood start to boil.  The plank at her feet moved slightly and, perhaps given time, the whole ground would have started to reverberate with the intensity of her emotions as it did with her mother.  However, she never got the chance, as the rope was cut from her neck and the sack removed.  The girl blinked, staring up at her savior with a wide eyed curiosity, unable to find the words to answer him.  There was no time.

Feeling his hand grip around her wrist, he dragged her behind her more than she ran as they reached his horse.  Clamoring onto the stallion, she held onto the stranger and glanced behind her shoulder at the mob chasing after them.  Arrows flew by their head and her eyes narrowed.  With another set prepared to aim at them, she removed one of her arms from her grip around his waist and gave a wave of her arm.  The trajectory of the path of the arrows changed as they whipped around like boomerangs, plunging through the weak points in the armor of the men who had originally fired them.  She returned her tight hold on him so as not to fall off as the horse took off.

There was nothing but silence through the duration of their trip as they traveled through the city deep into the labyrinthine woods.  Most people were afraid of the forest, but Sybil found comfort hidden through the canopy of the trees.  Their little cottage had been on the outskirts and her mother had always taken her there for her lessons about nature and fear.

Watching the man as he worked on rubbing two sticks together, she tilted her head to the side.  Eyes drifting towards the fire he was trying desperately to ignite, she held out a hand.  Without much effort at all, a stream of fire like the breath from a dragon left her palm to send the flint in a blaze.  The small clearing now illuminated, her piercing blue eyes scanned her surroundings before she took a seat on a fallen log, picking at the fungus and moss that had grown over it.  In response to his question she said only her name.  “Sybil.”