"Mariposa Gloriosa." I stared up at the elders of my village. Hair had slipped out from my braid. My shoulders ached. They had pulled my hands behind my back and cuffed my hands together, they thought that would stop me from using magic. "How do you plead?" Gregoric asks me. His face was wrinkled and ugly.

"She doesn't get to plead for anything!" Horrison shouts. "All of the women and even the patient's husband saw her display of magic!" He roared.

"Be quiet." Penton snapped. "For all we know those can be made up accounts. We also agreed that everyone gets a chance to plead for innocence." He says calmly while Hemmington just stares down at me with his hands placed delicately on the table in front of him.

The door opened, banging loudly on the walls. I raise my head and suck in a breath of surprise. "Mariposa? What is my daughter doing here?! I thought this was a witch trial!?" My father pointed at me and yelled at the elders in confusion.

"Count Augustus, your daughter performed a spell in front of all the women of the village." Gregoric says simply. I see my father's face contort. Was he angry at them for accusing me? My face scrunches as I look at him.

He walks over to me and grabs the front of my dress. "You... you witch!" He hisses in my face. "You are one of those disgusting, untrustworthy, vile, creatures! Just like your horrid mother!" He spits in my face. The hall was completely silent. Every eye was on me. My eyes were on my father's. He was mad. He was angry but he was also insane.

He throws me on to the floor. I don't react. I just lay there silently. Maybe, this is a chance to prove my dad right or wrong. "Oh lord." Bertha mumbles and helps me back onto my knees. She was still being kind. It bewildered me.

"Gregoric I want the building that was about to become my daughter's bakery to be burned down too." My father says cruelly and tears spring to my eyes. Years of allowances have gone into maintaining that place. I can't believe he was gonna burn it down. My bakery that I never got to open. I've been neglecting it and spending all my time on trying to gain control of my powers. What an idiot.

"Tie her to the stake." Gregoric states without an ounce of hesitation. I am lifted up and carried to the courtyard. A wooden cross sat on the wooden platform. They continued to pile hay and wood logs onto it as they tied me to it. The ropes scratched against my skin. The pain was bearable so far. It was mild discomfort at best.

"Any last words?" Horrison asked me. My father lit a match behind me. I stared at my father as tears ran down my face. I raised my chin and stared down at the villagers. I had grown up with them. Healed them. Fed some. Yet, here they all were to watch me burn. Not even my soon to be bakery can be saved.

"Light the pyre." Penton says. My dad lights the wood on fire. The fire grows quickly. Smoke engulfs me. My lungs burn. My eyes water. I choke and my tears evaporate and I am surrounded by fire. Maybe this really is what kills witches. I open my eyes against the pain. My ropes burned away.

My father had been wrong. The fire changes to a soft purple and the smoke stops. I can breathe again. The fire moves at my will. "What is happening!?" An elder screams. I step off of the pyre with purple flames swirling around me.

"I was right." I stare at my father. "Why would fire hurt a witch when they can control fire like it is a piece of their own body?" My dress hung off of me in taters. "All of the other women and children you have burned at this stake," I raise my voice to the crowd, my eyes never leaving my father, "were innocent." Gasps of horror and pointed glares turn to my father.

Then, I set the ground on fire.