Wind. Daniel Mello

that.”

      “I know of traitors against me!” the king roared, boring his eyes into the gentle features of Father Stephanus. However, the Priest remained stable.

      “I implore you, King Nielius, to see how this woman is innocent. Our God says to forgive those who trespass against us, not to punish them. Certainly, you can see the wisdom in that.”

      Hearing the king yell at someone in the crowd caught the attention of the gathering, and soon all of the villagers were listening intently as Father Stephanus pleaded to the ruler of Hyrendell. Though the conversation was distorted slightly when it reached the people at the rear of the crowd, it nonetheless began to revitalize the dying hope of the entire assembly.

      “Executioner,” King Nielius roared, “place the traitor into the Machine!” At once, the bulbous man obeyed.

      Father Stephanus continued quickly, “this woman has done nothing wrong, your highness! Tell her of what charges she is to be killed for!”

      “You want to know her charges, Father,” Nielius growled, “DO YOU ALL WANT TO KNOW HER CHARGES?!”

      He didn’t wait for an answer. “She is charged for being a McCloud, a certified traitor of the crown. She is charged with conspiracy against the kingdom!”

      “This woman is innocent!” Stephanus yelled back.

      “NO ONE IS INNOCENT!” King Nielius thundered to the crowd below him, his temples raging with fury.

      “Your God is giving you a chance to show the people of your kingdom how merciful you can be. Prove it to them!”

      Nielius curved his dark, burning eyes to pierce through the glow of Father Stephanus’ chocolate irises, but to no avail; the Priest’s faith was stronger than it seemed.

      “My God has already given me the world,” Nielius happily fumed.

      And just then, from behind the king, and in front of him, from deep inside the castle and high up in the sky, the silky demonic voice he craved and feared spewed forth into his mind. It splintered the inside of his skull as it drug an ethereal claw down his spine, commanding a shiver to prickle his skin.

       “ThE KinGdoM tRuLy iS YoUrs. Do wHaT yOU WilL. I wIll Be AlWayS HeRe FoR YOu.”

      Both warmth and cold fear washed over the king like a boiling sea. He closed his eyes to cringe against the security of emotion, and revel in the emptiness of dread. Peace was to be found there, in the depths of that voice. It cradled him like child, protected him from himself.

      When King Nielius opened his eyes, he was staring at the decaying Machine set upon the oaken stage. Its bloody steel reinforcements glimmered in the dull light. And strapped inside its rotting wooden beams lay the first of his captures, the first of his hunt.

      His smile twitched again.

      “Executioner, are you ready?!” Nielius boomed. The crowd glanced toward the giant man. Stephanus could’ve sworn, if he swore, that the executioner hesitated before he answered with a nod. He decided to capitalize on the moment.

      A particular verse from scripture flashed through his mind. “Your Highness, before you kill this poor woman, allow me a prayer on her behalf. It’s the least you could do.”

      King Nielius bent over the railing to peer at Father Stephanus; the poor priest looked rather defeated. “If it would settle the villagers, do as you wish. But make it quick!”

      Stephanus shuffled his way through the crowd until he was near the hideous Machine. When he reached the stage, he jumped up the steps toward the disgusting contraption and its shivering prisoner. The executioner glared at the priest, yet Father Stephanus met his eyes with practiced compassion. A twinkle sparkled in the executioner’s blue eyes.

      Concentrating on that twinkle, Stephanus threw back his hood to kneel before the pungent, rotting Machine. The stench of old blood gagged him for a moment, but he quickly recovered. He found the old woman’s hand and grasped it firmly.

      “Hildabrand, is that right?” Father Stephanus gazed into her glimmering blue eyes.

      “Yes, dear, that’s it,” she sniffled. “Why, Father, why is this happening to me? I didn’t even get to see her again.” Hildabrand’s frown rocked Stephanus’ heart, yet he stayed his tears for the sake of promoting faith.

      “Our Father, who art in Heaven, has a plan much greater than we know. Believe as it is written, even though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we fear no evil, for You are with us.” It took everything he had for Stephanus to steady his voice.

      Hildabrand closed her eyes in worship, releasing a few tears.

      A sob burst from Stephanus, but he controlled it. “Not even now, Hildabrand, has He ever left you. Your innocence will never be forgotten.” Stephanus didn’t know who ‘she’ was, but acknowledged it all the same. “And you will see her again.”

      “If you see her before I do, tell her that I love her with all my heart,” Hildabrand sighed. “And that I will be waiting for her alongside her parents.”

      Stephanus gazed deeply into the gorgeous eyes of Hildabrand, giving her all of the faith that he could muster. And soon, the old woman turned away and closed her eyes. The Priest raised himself from her side and took a step backward to address the stage as a whole, making sure the executioner was in sight.

       “Dear Father,” he spoke, loud enough for all the courtyard to hear, “we pray in your name to take Hildabrand McCloud into your gentle and loving arms, Lord. Accept her into your perfect kingdom, Lord God, and release her from this horrible fate. Lord, we pray you remind all of us,” he said with a piercing glance into the executioner’s eyes, “that you are the way, the truth, and the light, and that you forgive us because you have the glory, Lord God, you are the One who completes us, Lord, you are the One who allows us to choose an eternity of emptiness or an eternity of peace, Lord God —”

      Nielius braced himself against the railing of the balcony as he clutched his chest. He ground his teeth against prayers to God, but he allowed it because the people would be more willing to follow his orders if they believed he accepted their God. His heart thundered at the words Father Stephanus spoke, weakening Nielius’ legs, but he held fast against the force, resisted its penetrative will. And as Stephanus wrapped up his prayer, Nielius quickly righted himself to stand like a commander once more. “Are you finished?!”

      An ancient word sprang to mind. “Tetelestai,” Stephanus whispered. “It is finished.”

      He glanced one more time at the executioner, only to notice his eyes were watery. It actually hit him. Somewhere deep down, that huge man craved to know God.

      The king’s booming voice shocked Stephanus from his gaze. “Now, my people, let us show the traitors of the crown what happens to those who trespass against us!”

      The king glared at the executioner. “Release the blade!”

      Stephanus turned to watch as the executioner walked right up and grabbed a large wooden handle on the side of the bloody machine. He closed his eyes, waiting for the shriek of the falling blade. But it never came.

      For some reason, the executioner didn’t pull. Something stayed his hand.

      Quickly, Stephanus caught the glossy eyes of the executioner, then turned toward King Nielius who was shaking with rage.

      “EXECUTIONER, I COMMAND YOU TO RELEASE THAT BLADE!”

      Stephanus turned back toward the executioner as the giant hand pried its fingers away from the wood, releasing its hold on the lever. Lumbering, the hairy belly stepped back from the machine. In one fluid motion, the executioner tore off his hood to reveal a balding man, tears streaming down his face.

      “Thank you, Lord,” Stephanus smiled.

      “My name is Bernhart,” the portly man yelled. “And I am forgiven!”

      “AHH,” Nielius