Young Writers Society

     The bell tolled, echoing throughout the square. The Angels gathered quickly in front of the Council Hall, and they were silent as the Great Councilman Simon stepped forward onto the raised platform. He waited patiently for the crowd to settle into the square, glowering in superiority above them all, seeming quite proud of himself. Once no more Angels were arriving, he spoke, projecting his voice to the back of the crowd. "Brothers, we have long awaited a day like today to arrive. We have outwitted the Magick pests!" The crowd cheered and hollered in excitement, but they fell quiet as immediately as they started, anxious to hear their supreme leader's words. The other three councilmen waited in a line against the building behind him. Their smirks illustrated their knowledge of the event about to take place. "Our bravest warriors were sent on a mission, away from the public eye, to infiltrate a main home of Magick-kind and capture the heads of house. They were free to do as they wished with the remaining members of the household, but we've got a special treat for our captives." He made a small gesture with his right hand and the out of the large, dark doorway behind him came three Guardian Angels, in full armor, each restraining an individual with a sack over their heads. The men tied each of the Magickians to a pole with straw at the base before ripping off the sacks. 

    "Gentlemen," Simon chuckled nefariously. "I give you the last remaining members of the Gottschalk line." The majority of the crowd began to laugh, though some began to question the intentions of their Great Councilman, they attempted to shrug it off and enjoy the special occurrence they were about to view. "Oh, what pity- Gottschalk means 'the servant of god' in their native language, but they've served nothing but the devils since day one. Today, however, we put an end to this line of filth." 

     The remaining three councilmen took their places beside the Magickians, and the eldest Magickian was tied farthest to the left. This is where Simon began. "As I am not a truly cruel man, I will give you each a chance to survive this ordeal. All you have to do is swear off your people and tell us where the Benard castle is hidden. Very simple, really. If one person tells the truth, you'll all survive and be held in our prisons to be taken care of from now on. It's quite simple- a few words could save your lives." The councilman smirked viciously. "Now, let us begin, shall we?" He approached the man, whose eyes were set with icy fire as he fought against his bindings. "Mr.Gottschalk, you are the head of your family, are you not?" 

      The Magickian remained silent, angering the Angel. He kept eye contact as he pulled a daggar from his robes, but the man remained silent. With a swift movement of Simon's hand, the man suddenly screamed in pain. His ear fell limply, remaining attached only by a patch of limp skin at the bottom, blood flowing heavily from the points of separation. The councilman dipped his fingers into the gory crevice and wiped the crimson liquid onto his captive's face. "You feel that? This is what happens when someone ignores me. You either use your ears or I will remove them for you. Now, answer my question. Where is the Benard house?!" 

     Yet, even in this tremendous pain, the man refused to vocalize. Simon frowned and moved on, leaving the eldest Gottschalk to shiver in his scarlet despair. He knelt to face the next victim. "Now, Mrs.Gottschalk, I do hope you'll be more agreeable than your husband. Tell me where the Benard house is!" 

    "Fuck you, Angel scum!" She scowled and spat in his face. The nearby page rushed a cloth to Simon to wipe his face with. The councilman cleaned off himself and smiled almost too sweetly to the woman before him. 

     "You should be more careful with how you word things my dear- but," He turned to the crowd, raising his voice, "But if that is what the lady wants, let us oblige her- let her children and her husband see how she fucks!" A few of the Guardian Angels came and unbound her hands, only for them to be shackled to a metal ring in the floor below, and Simon sat in a nearby chair with a wine glass, ready to enjoy the show. She cried and screamed for mercy, but such words were not in the vocabulary of the Great Councilman. Lebbaeus, one of the other council members,  took place behind her, lifting up her skirt and yanking her panties down viciously. The crowd jeered with a repulsive sort of glee, and the Angel pushed into her, going slowly at first, but quickly moving into a harder, faster pace. She begged for him to stop, but soon another councilman moved in  front of her. Though hard to see at this point, the members of the crowd were pretty sure they knew what was going on, as the woman's voice was stifled with ease. After what felt like eternity to the victim, there were two loud groans from the stage, and the deed was done. The Magickian sobbed and panted, trying to gasp in as much air as possible. The Guardian Angels returned her to the pole she had been attached to as swiftly as they could.

     "Now, wasn't that fun?" Simon spoke as he stood, finishing off his wine and handing the glass to a nearby servant. "Hopefully the cock that was in your mouth has loosened your lips a bit, Mrs.Gottschalk. Where is the mansion?!" But the woman only hung her head in shame and disgust, yet again refusing the figure before her. Simon scowled and moved on to the child, who looked just as angry and rebellious as his father. "You, boy. You have the opportunity to save your family- all it takes is a few words. Tell me where the mansion is, or this is the end of the line for you and your parents." 

     The boy was about five-foot six, and probably about sixteen years old. His emerald eyes met the icy blue of his captor, seemingly unafraid. "Your choices here will be the spark in a dry forest of oppression. If you continue upon this path, the Three Unspeakables will occur. The Ultimate Corruption will come into being and will end the existence of both Magick-kind and Angels as we know today. This is written in the ancient texts, and so it shall be. I will not tell you anything." 

     Simon rolled his eyes. "Jane wrote those scrolls as an attempt to scare us off the trail of Magick-kind, boy." Still, the young man's eyes did not waiver. He was painfully aware of his situation, of course, but he knew the history of his race better than anyone he knew. So, in his faith he remained true. Simon towered over the child, but it didn't take long to see his determination glowing bright, and the councilman returned to the front of the stage. "My brothers!" He shouted to the crowd, demanding any wandering eyes return to him. "Today, we rid the universe of three more of the Magick plague." He walked purposefully to the nearby lantern and lit a torch, which he carried over towards the elder Magickian. "I suggest strongly," He directed to the Angels below, "That anyone with a weak stomach look away, as this is likely to get a little... grotesque." Pausing for a moment to allow some to look away, he then knelt down and lit the straw at Mr.Gottschalk's feet. 

     The fire crept ever so slowly towards the figure above, who had practically lost consciousness from smoke inhalation by the time the fire touched him. His wife began to sob and scream as the fire began to melt his flesh down, exposing the red muscles below, which eventually burnt away as well. The smell was oddly pleasant to Simon- almost as if someone had been roasting a pig over an open fire. This is what he told himself, anyway. The fire began to travel more hastily, making quick work of the straw beneath the woman Magickian, not giving her the chance to pass out as her husband did. She screeched as she was swallowed by the flames, the blood giving the inferno an unnatural blush about it. Unlike her husband, she struggled and fought against her bindings. Her pole suddenly snapped and she fell to her right, upon her son, who did everything he could not to panic at her dying form on top of him. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, quickly incapacitating himself so he did not have to stay awake for his demise. The blaze engulfed him rather unceremoniously, and soon there was nothing left of the trio but bloody, bony masses. The crowd began to filter out of the square as the flames were put out. 

      Young Marcus was about the same age as the boy which had just been killed before him, but he was destined for a council seat one day. He knew this, of course, because his father was Simon, the very man who currently lead the council. Marcus's deep black hair blew in the wind as he approached the stage.The bodies had not yet been cleaned up, so his eyes immediately drifted to the carnage, both shocked and curious at the same time. His father ordered some nearby servants to clean up the mess before turning to Marcus. "That wasn't too much for you to see, was it? You'll need to handle that sort of thing when you take my place one day." 

     As the gore was taken away, Marcus shook off his odd feeling about the boy's words. He smiled. "Of course not, Dad."