Her veil was covering her whole face yet the strong, red color of her lips was revealed to have a sense of luciousness. Her eyes, although, black, were the kind of orb shape that was peculiarly stunning. Her hair, red wine fell with a half wave down to her buttocks.

She was stunning. A beautiful piece of work that had not been tainted yet the fate despised her. The creasing of her brows, the shrieks that escaped , and the thick red blood that trailed on her face were the facts that the crowds did not want to accept peculiarity. She struggled so hard to find her hands tightened by the ropes and full of blisters. Cuts of knife carving was tracing on her legs; a symbol of cold torture in the bleak prison. She could feel the pain, the insults from the crowds and even death was mocking her whole existence.

Her hair, though, flaunted with the air blowing fast and soon the avenue was greeted with loud exclamations of fire that burnt from her feet. She stopped her struggles, looked at the crowd and showed a smirk. The fire spread from beneath her feet, going upward, burning the big wooden pole at the center of the avenue and engulfed her whole. She did not screamed but whispered quietly. The whole serene weather changed abruptly. Trees swaying with the hard blows of the wind. The thunder strike mercilessly and shot down bolts and bolts to the housing area, lighting up fire everywher