I take a shuddering breath, keeping the tears at bay.
From the row behind me, Ani reaches out, squeezes my shoulder. I touch his hand, and the first few tears escape.
A man dressed in a dark gray suit stands on the platform, and as the woman is led to the noose, the rope slipped around her neck, he begins.
“Danika Beth Lewis,” he booms into a microphone, his voice echoing across the field. “You have been convicted on multiple counts of public witchcraft, magickal malicious intent, magickal abuse by a person in a position of trust, and murder. There is no atoning for these crimes. Let your sentence be a warning to all who seek to follow in your dark footsteps: rest assured, those footsteps will lead them right here.”
The man then launches into an half-hour-long sermon on the dangers of witchcraft—a sermon I tune out, focusing my attention instead on Danika, on her face, on her eyes, still fierce despite this.
Her children are dead.
Soon, she will join them.
When he’s finally finished extolling the dangers of magick and all who practice this tool of the devil, he turns to Danika, his voice laced with contempt.
“Danika Lewis, do you have any last words?”
At this, she looks into the cameras, tears streaking silently down her face, and makes her final mark on this world.
“Fuckingfight!”
The man—judge, jury, and executioner—turns away from her presses a button on a remote in his hand. The part of the platform beneath her feet collapses.
And Danika Beth Lewis, mother and wife and witch and human being, falls to her death.
It’s not quick. It’s not painless.
When she finally stops kicking, when her body stills and her eyes bulge wide, when her bladder empties, we know its finally over. Here in the Hall of Remembrance, candles flickering in the darkness, our souls connected by our shared pain and shared determination, all of us release a collective breath.
And though no words are uttered, I know we’ve all just made the same silent promise.
We will honor her life. Remember her words.
Fucking fight.
* * *
Back home, my suite has never felt so empty, so sad. I turn on all the lights and set out candles for Danika, then set the kettle to boil, returning to that one familiar comfort.
There’s no problem a proper cup of tea can’t fix.
But just before the water boils, there’s an unexpected chime at the door.
I peer into the screen to see an unexpected visitor, and I immediately open the door.
“Dr. Devane?” I whisper, as though he’s not really here, as though I can’t trust my eyes and don’t want to break the spell.
“I thought maybe you shouldn’t be alone tonight.” His eyes are rimmed in red, his hair disheveled, and my heart melts inside me. A tear tracks down my cheek, and we stand there in awkward silence, my mouth unable to form the words of my heart.
“Perhaps I misjudged.” He offers a faint smile. “If you’d rather I—”
I take his hand and pull him inside, close the door behind him, and pull him into a hug.
He stiffens at first, then wraps his arms around me, holding me tight. He presses a kiss to the top of my head and breathes in my scent. We stay like that for several moments until the door chimes again.
This time when I open it, Kirin, Baz, and Ani stand before me.
“None of us really wanted to be alone tonight,” Baz says, and I smile and wave them in, hugging first Baz, and then Ani.
