The Heretic Dies

Finished a new story. Here’s a sneak peak.

The giant red sun began to rise over the Court of the Moon Dog. In a short time, it would fill a quarter of the sky. But its glow was pleasant, not harsh at all as it banished the few stars that dared to shine above the place of execution.

Already the early mourners were there, professional weepers practicing their wails and moans of sadness. The Magister had decreed that the Heretic, hated though he may be, was not to die in loneliness unmourned. Since no villager would dare mourn him for fear of sharing in the suspicion of heresy, the Magister had hired out the mourners, and hired the best. He ruled for a State that tempered its sometimes harsh justice with uncommon mercy.

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