Petro rode his horse along the muddy road, his eyes scanning the thick forest on either side. The rain had let up, but the air remained heavy with moisture. His armor clinked softly with each step of his mount.
He was on the trail of a young witch, barely more than a girl really. The reports said she'd fled from the Drunken Donkey tavern three nights past after a man had tried to force himself on her. In her panic, she'd unleashed some foul magic that left the would-be rapist writhing on the floor, his manhood shriveled to nothing.
Petro's jaw clenched at the thought. Part of him couldn't blame the girl for defending herself. If it had been Suzanne... But he pushed the thought away. The law was clear. The True God's word was absolute. Anyone who wielded magic was tainted by evil and had to be put down, regardless of circumstance.
He'd seen firsthand the devastation that magic could wreak. The burning priest, the chaos and death in his hometown - it was all seared into his memory. No, there could be no exceptions. The witch had to die.
As he rode, Petro fingered the golden sun amulet that hung around his neck. He'd kept it all these years as a reminder of that day, of the evil that lurked in the world. Of his duty to stamp it out.
A flicker of movement caught his eye. There - a flash of color through the trees. Petro reined in his horse and dismounted silently. Drawing his sword, he crept forward into the underbrush.
He caught another glimpse of the figure ahead. A young woman with long dark hair, wearing a tattered blue dress. She was moving quickly, glancing over her shoulder fearfully.
Petro's grip tightened on his sword. This had to be her. The witch. His quarry.
He stepped out from behind a tree, blocking her path. "Stop right there," he commanded.
The girl froze, her eyes going wide with terror as she took in his armor and blade. "Please," she whimpered. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone. He was trying to-"
"Silence," Petro cut her off. "You have been accused of using dark magic. The penalty is death."
"No, you don't understand!" she cried. "It was an accident! I didn't even know I could do that. Please, I swear I'm not evil!"
For a moment, Petro hesitated. She looked so young, so frightened. Like Suzanne had all those years ago...
But then he remembered the burning priest. The bodies in the streets. The True God's law was absolute. There could be no exceptions.
"I'm sorry," he said, raising his sword. "May the True God have mercy on your soul."
The girl's eyes flashed with panic. Petro felt the blade cleave, saw the light drain, and then things went still. There was a shiver that ran across his spine and an instant of self-doubt, but it was quickly replaced with faith.
He was right to do it. Things might seem one way, but the reality was always far more complex. Allowed to flourish, she might become a full-blown witch or warlock. Her magic would doubtless harm others. Magic had built the citadels, and magic was not to be trifled with. It had brought the world to its knees once.
Never again.
The Citadel of Light, they called it. A mockery of all that was good and holy. Pure evil emanated from that place, long since corrupted. Petro understood that the only light to be found was in freeing the world from magic's tyranny.
It was not easy work, and he might one day suffer for his belief.
Yet the True God's will must be done. No matter the cost.
