The Order of the Burning Rose stood at my doorstep. Their armor rattling as they set about their task. I had been condemned for witchcraft and was set to the stake.
“Do you have any last words, witch?” their leader said with contempt. I Stood quietly, knowing no words could save me. The headmaster came up and mumbled prays of absolution as his incense burner let off the smell of frankincense.
Torches were brought forward and cast into the pile at my feet. I tried to hold back my screams for as long as I could. But the pain was horrible. As it started to fade and so did my life I hollered out.
“I curse you all, may you feel naught but thirst till the end of your days and may your souls never know peace!” as the darkness overwhelmed me, I took solace in that they would believe themselves cursed. Knowing that that in itself would be enough. It would have to be, for I was just a poor herbalist I had no power.
Do you want power? A voice said suddenly I could no longer see and it seemed to come from everywhere all at once. Do you want to make them suffer for this transgression? Do you want a new life, to be reborn? Everything seemed to hang on those questions.
I didn’t want to die, I wanted to… “Yes!” I said.
Swear yourself to me! Call me master!
“Yes, I swear to you master!” I cried out.
I could see again and my body was whole. The flames around me had turned a sickly green. The Order’s men were panicking. I walked out of the flames and many fled. Without knowing how or why I spread my fingers and fire lanced from them. Each man there was stuck and set ablaze. The headmaster was praying on his knees. His words coming to a choking halt as I stood over him.
I could see my new horns in the shadow I cast over him, but I did not care. I had become all they had feared me to be. I would have my vengeance. His screams went on forever it seemed and I enjoyed every moment of it…
The Stories of a Raving Madman 