Dimas Bosko sat in his deep red, velvet armchair, smoking a pipe and thinking deeply with a tense expression. He was in the study of his manor, atop a hill in the town of Sveto. The room, and in fact the whole building, gave an impression of decaying beauty. As the Reave of Sveto, it was all Dimas': the stained, haggard curtains; the torn, patched up, and torn again armchair; the creaking floorboards and the cobweb-filled ceiling. It was the largest and most valuable building in Sveto, and once upon a time, it had probably been incredible. A symbol, perhaps, that great and beautiful things could be made even under the influence of the Old Curse. And yes, its walls had never been infiltrated by a doppelganger nor stormed by a werewolf, but the slow weathering of time had won out in the end. All that was left was a dreary, depressing husk.

A voice spoke out from behind him, low for a woman's.

"Are you ready yet? We need to be outside in an hour," said Lillith Rochaza, Dimas' manor wizard. At about five and a half feet tall, with wavy, blonde hair that came just past her shoulders, Lillith was, as most manor wizards were, a trusted bodyguard, advisor, and agent for the reave. Like most female wizards, and other women of action, her clothing was more typical of what a man would wear; it comprised of a faded green, long-sleeved tunic, matching trousers which billowed slightly but were tucked into brown leather boots. Her blue eyes showed an expression of both intelligence and authority.

Dimas gave a long sigh and stood up, slowly walking through to his chamber without replying. Lillith already knew the answer. He looked into the mirror and saw himself, a tall man of 47 with long, black hair swept back from his face. Besides his slowly receding hairline, there was little to give away his age. A casual onlooker could see a man ten years younger, but a perceptive onlooker would notice his eyes, worn, tired and wise as they were, and see a man ten years older.

[hr]

There was a huge gathering in the square outside the reave's manor. Everyone who could afford not to be working was present - men, women, and children. The reave's soldiers had cleared a circle in the middle of the square, at the centre of which was a large, wooden structure - a set of gallows.

In front of the manor was two sets of stone stairs, one curling in from each side to a central platform in front of the double doors. The outer bannister on each set met on this central platform to form a railing which Lillith now leant against, facing the crowd. Since when she had seen Dimas an hour ago, she had donned a blue cape - which she wore with the hood down - a pair of brown gloves, and a satchel that hung at her side. She looked up at the sky. It was cloudy, overcast, but the noonday light was passing through fairly well. It didn't look as though it would rain.

A single blackbird had perched itself on the roof of a nearby building.

Dimas stepped though the doors of his manor, and Lillith stepped backwards, so that she stood a little behind him and to his right. The captain of the guards, Lovrenco Petrovic, looked at him, and he nodded. It began.

A path was cleared through the crowds, moving up the road opposite the manor, towards it and the gallows. A tall, pale woman was being marched up the hill. She wore a dark blue dress and a gold ring on her right hand, and had many cuts and bruises across her body. Her straight, ghostly white hair was pulled back from her face by a strange contraption on her head. A series of curved iron strips that formed a frame around her head, holding in place another piece of metal that went into her mouth. This, Lillith knew, was a barbaric method for keeping captive spellcasters; the mouthpiece was barbed, and would cause excruciating pain if the wearer made any attempt to speak, making magical incantations impossible. In addition, a crude wooden frame was attached to the woman's hands, making the gestures necessary for many spells impossible. Even from this distance, Lillith could see fear in her eyes.

The woman was stopped ten steps from the gallows, and the captain began speaking loudly in his rough voice. "By order of Reave Dimas Bosko of Sveto, you, Cecilie Lukska, colloquially 'The Whiteheath Witch', are hearby found guilty of witchcraft, multiple counts of murder, and defiling of the deceased. You are also believed to be responsible for the disappearance and presumed murder of our citizen Lydia Resnik. You are to be executed by hanging."

The crowd cheered, and threw whatever they could at Cecilie. Most was rotten fruit or other inedible food, but one rock hit her on the side of the head, nearly knocking her down. She began the walk to the steps leading up to the gallows. Out of a habit of caution, Lillith cast [i]Detect Magic[/i]. Her normally stoic expression betrayed a feeling of surprise and worry at what she saw. Dimas noticed, and asked, in his slow, deep voice "Is something wrong?"

Lillith's reply was short and to the point. "Maybe," she said, before slipping off into the crowd.

[hr]

Lillith walked quickly, hurriedly approaching the captain and immediately demanding information on the capture of Cecilie. "Tell me, quickly," she said "what happened when you captured her?"

"Well, Miss, it went very well, you see, she had these zombies, guarding-" Captain Petrovic started off speaking, but was soon interrupted by Lillith.

"I don't care, skip to the part where you caught her."

"We got 'er while she was sleeping, see, she had the helmet on before she knew what was happening-"

"So she never had a chance to say anything?"

"No, Miss."

Lillith understood now, she knew what had happened. But it was too late to stop anything. She turned around in time to see Cecilie's pleading eyes as the lever was pulled and she fell, her neck broken as she suddenly jerked still. The crowd cheered, but sounds of excitement quickly turned to confusion as they saw Lillith approach the body. She removed the ring, and the illusion faded, to show the brown, braided hair, freckled face, and warm green eyes of the missing young woman, Lydia Resnik.

The confusion in the crowd continued for a moment longer, but as people slowly understood what happened, bedlam spread throughout it. Bedlam caused by the knowledge of a single fact: the Whiteheath Witch was alive.