Without a window it was impossible to measure time passing. Boredom was omnipresent, sometimes no more than a thin restlessness, other times so thick it sent Jessica into spiraling panic which only Naga’s squeezes could coax her out of.

  Sleeping comprised the majority of what Jessica did followed by cuddling with Naga and eating what little food they gave her. She was only supposed to get the moldy bread and cheese they gave humans, but as lamias were obligate carnivores, there was always some raw meat which Naga ‘cooked’ by creating friction with her scales.

  Dreary monotony left her with nothing to do but think, and when those thoughts turned to the outside world, disgust and repulsion began to color everyone and everything.

  Like a lightning rod, Morkal had become the single, solitary conduit for her misery, against which Sir Hayek was nothing but an incidental annoyance. She should’ve dismissed this as the product of her ugly circumstances, but the darkness of the dungeons made it undeniable reality.

  Sometimes she thought about life before Tushita. Grad school and her present circumstances had a depressing amount of similarities, she thought.

  In her best moods—usually the product of a good squeeze—she reminisced about hanging out with her geeky friends in high school before her mother had pushed her to hang out with ‘go-getters’ she didn’t really like. She thought about her mother too, and in her feverish imprisonment, Morkal and her mother blended together.

  She thought about her brother and his gaming addiction and about how their father, before he passed, had gotten both his kids hooked on video games against their mother’s will. Stripped of any need to lie to herself, video games were why Jessica knew what a lamia was, same as any other adventurer from another world.

  She wondered if that was why only certain people got pulled into Tushita. After all, the entire human race on Earth didn’t reincarnate here. It was only people who knew immediately what was expected of them in a fantasy world with RPG logic.

  Not long after this breakthrough, her monotonous routine was smashed to bits.

  “I’m so sorry, Jessica. I tried, but unfortunately your execution is today.”

  Mystiferia said this with a subtle but unmistakable grin, leaning into the cell to savor Jessica’s reaction. The lack of stimulation dimmed Jessica’s fear enough to keep it from infecting her face and giving the warden the reaction she was looking for.

  “Okay,” Jessica replied with a stone face.

  Mystiferia clucked her tongue and walked off. Jessica waited several minutes until she was sure the elf was gone before breaking down in sobs.

  “I’m sssorry, Jessssssica. Please ssstay ssstrong. We’ll figure sssomething out.”

  Jessica would figure something out. She had to figure something out, so she would. It was like Morkal had said: Tushita was meritocratic. All was permitted which meant all was possible. There had to be a way out. It was impossible for her not to have some way to escape. The right kind of character-developing revelation about herself or a clever trick of chemistry or convincing the right person at the last second, something like that. But she couldn’t die.

  As she thought this, two guards returned with Mystiferia to drag her out of the cell.

  “Don’t give me any fuss if you know what’s good for you,” Mystiferia said.

  A part of Jessica begged her to give up Morkal’s location. Morkal had done nothing for her besides get her into more trouble. She was the source of all Jessica’s troubles, and all Jessica had to do to save herself was work with Mystiferia and Sir Hayek to track the monstress down and she would be saved.

  Jessica’s mouth hung half-open, ready to bear the words that might save her. But in the same moment, she felt something thick and squishy and smooth wrap around her ankle and squeeze gently. Naga was looking at her with an expression of solidarity.

  “R-Right. Wouldn’t want to be late to my burning,” Jessica said.

  Mystiferia rolled her jaw but said nothing. Despite her cooperation, the two guards frog-marched Jessica behind the pink-haired warden as they ascended out of the dungeons.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Precious sunlight greeted her for the first time in a week or more as the sun hung half-clothed by the darkening ocean. Sir Hayek awaited her on the castle steps with Burnish’s reins in his hand. His eyes appraised her as she was brought out.

  “You look even more like a morkal now,” he said. “Guess they didn’t feed you well. Not that there’d be much point.”

  Jessica said nothing. This suited Hayek just fine. His quest to have her burned was a sprint compared with Mystiferia’s sadistic marathon. This made him the more dangerous of the two, since Jessica needed every second she could to figure out an escape plan.

  Nothing in the courtyard of Elsifeya Castle seemed promising. Even if she made a mad dash down to the harbor and tried to swim, the archers along the walls would shoot her dead before she touched the water. Fighting her way out was even more out of the question. Her opening had to be at the execution site.

  Reluctantly, she allowed Sir Hayek to toss her onto Burnish’s back one final time.

  The execution procession was small, just Sir Hayek, Jessica, four guards, and Mystiferia who was, at this point, no longer disguising her pleasure at the event. Aside from this there was a group of six wagons pulled up in a circle in the courtyard, though they didn’t seem to be intended for the procession.

  As they exited the tunnel up to Elsifeya City, a crowd began to accumulate around Jessica’s escort. Adventurers came first, lured by the stories of what she had done to Min-woo. Townsfolk and peasants joined them as soon as they saw the adventurers getting up to something. And by the time they neared the center of town, the crowd had swelled to over a thousand.

  “I know you’re looking for an escape,” Sir Hayek said, barely above a whisper.

  “I’m not,” she lied.

  “Yes you are. Because like all adventurers, you’re convinced our world won’t let you fail. That nothing really bad can happen to you here. Am I right?”

  “So you really do know I’m—!”

  “Of course I do! I knew the moment you popped into existence in front of me.”

  Jessica’s fists tightened against Burnish’s sides. “So then why!?”

  “Because I hate adventurers. I hate them more than anything or anyone. You don’t belong here and yet you come here, to my world, to my kingdom, just to fuck around and get people killed without ever facing any consequences,” Sir Hayek said, his voice lowering to a half-growl. “My sister was murdered by adventurers. No one cared. Not even after I complained to the adventurer’s guild. Not even after I came to their door and demanded they acknowledge what they did. Her name was Melisande. She was 14.”

  “I’m sorry…” Jessica murmured.

  “Sorry? Hah. Sorry she says. It’s not like you had anything to do with it.”

  Hayek’s voice suddenly became chilly and distant, like an oracle rattling off a prophecy.

  “Maybe you don’t deserve to burn. But unless an adventurer faces justice, nothing will change. They have to see there are consequences for their actions. It didn’t have to be you. But it was you. I guess you’re just unlucky.”

  “Hayek, don’t do this! I’m fighting against adventurers too! I’m the one who stopped Min-woo! I want to help save lives!”

  “You also burned and injured those peasants with your soap. Even if you don’t galavant across the countryside you’ll still end up killing someone. All adventurers do. It’s just soap now, but what about tomorrow? What other deadly chemicals will you mix up? How about the ones you used to injure Min-Woo’s companions? Did those girls deserve it?”

  “No! I—”

  “Spare me your lies and focus instead on escaping. Not that you have a chance.”

  True to his word, not a single opening presented itself. Several thousand people were crammed into the grand plaza in the center of town and every single one of their eyes were trained on her as she was marched to the stake. Escape was beginning to seem impossible.

  From atop the pile of kindling Jessica looked out on a clocktower on the far end of the plaza as the guards lashed her to the stake. When they were finished, she jerked against her bonds, but they proved as firm as a three thousand-pound snake.

  “Citizens of Elsifeya, subjects of King Capra,” Sir Hayek announced, voice booming over the hushed crowds. “Before you stands a witch, captured as she attempted to deceive, undermine, and ultimately destroy the settlement of Barleyfield and all who call it home.”

  Jessica’s eyes darted frantically around. There was nothing. No one. She was alone and without any escape and the possibility now occurred to her that she really would die. Panic rose from her stomach to her chest and then to her throat. This wasn’t supposed to be possible. There was always supposed to be a last-second escape.

  “But that is not all. Let it be known too that this witch is a reincarnated. She is an adventurer who sought to use her otherworldly knowledge to poison the people of Barleyfield. I say to you now that from this day forth, no longer are adventurers above the king’s law.”

  The modest simmering at his declaration boiled over into mass shock. From her vantage point affixed to the stake Jessica could see reactions rippling outwards in every direction. This was why he had insisted for so long that she wasn’t reincarnated: He wanted the moment of surprise.

  Above it all the clocktower tolled its deep, brassy tone.

  “Upon the sixth strike, the burning of the witch Jessica Moon will commence,” Sir Hayek said, his words punctuated on either end by the second and third tolls.

  Jessica’s heart pounded. She had failed.

  On the sixth strike, burning torches were tossed on the pile, sending the kindling up in flames. Her fingernails bit frantically at her palms and she looked up to the darkening sky and let loose a choking half-sob. There was no hope for her. No escape.