Labyrinth of Shadows: Read Chapter One Free
They burned her as a witch in 1590. Death was only the beginning. Start reading below. No download, no sign-up.
Chapter 1
The cobblestones cut into Anna’s bare, bleeding feet as rough hands dragged her through the bustling streets of Copenhagen. Each painful step sent sharp jolts through her legs, the wounds reopening with every stumble. The thick hood over her head left her in complete darkness, only amplifying the sound of jeering voices that echoed around her.
"I’m innocent," Anna whispered, her voice barely audible and hoarse from screaming. The words were lost, swallowed by the coarse fabric covering her face, unheard by the angry crowd and her tormentors. She stumbled again, nearly falling, but the ropes around her wrists yanked her upright, jerking her forward.
The guard’s grip on the rope tightened. "Keep moving, witch," he snarled, his voice cold and filled with contempt.
Anna’s heart pounded in her chest, her thoughts a jumbled mess of fear and desperation. How had it come to this? Just days ago, she had been a respected midwife, trusted by the community. Now, she was labeled a servant of evil, condemned to die for crimes she hadn't committed.
"Please," she begged, her voice trembling, "I’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve only ever helped people."
A sharp blow to her back cut off Anna’s plea, and she gasped for air, her body jolting forward. "Save your lies for the devil," the guard spat, his voice dripping with disdain.
Anna’s feet slipped and slid on the slick cobblestones, her blood leaving a dark stain with each agonizing step. The ropes around her wrists dug deep into her raw, bruised skin, a constant reminder of her helplessness. She tried to steady her breathing, fighting to maintain some semblance of composure amidst the chaos around her. But the seething hatred from the crowd pressed in on her, overwhelming her with its palpable cruelty. Every jeering voice felt like a sharp blow to her already battered spirit.
"I don't understand," Anna thought, her heart heavy with confusion and sorrow. "How can they believe such lies? How can they forget all the good I've done for them?"
Suddenly, the procession came to a halt, and the air seemed to shift. The raucous noise of the crowd faded into an eerie silence, broken only by the shuffling of feet and hushed whispers. Anna felt a cold chill run down her spine as a deep, unsettling realization crept over her. She knew exactly what was coming. Her heart raced in fear and anticipation, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. The atmosphere was thick with a tense mix of excitement and dread, like the oppressive stillness before a storm, waiting to break.
The guard barked with grim satisfaction, pointing toward the towering pyre ahead. "Your time has come, witch," he sneered, his voice dripping with malice as he reveled in his power over her. The flames crackled and roared; their fiery tongues eager to consume their next victim accused of witchcraft.
Despite the fear gnawing at her insides, Anna stood tall and defiant, facing her fate with unwavering determination. Her legs trembled beneath her, threatening to give way. This was it, the end of her life. She gathered every ounce of strength she had left, lifting her chin even though the heavy hood still covered her face.
"I may die today," Anna said, her voice steady and clear, though fear churned within her. "But my conscience is clear. Can you say the same?"
The guard's retort was drowned out by the deafening roar of the crowd. Anna was roughly shoved forward, closer to the blazing pyre. The acrid smell of smoke filled her nostrils as she was pushed even closer to her fate. Her heart hammered in her chest; each beat a silent cry for mercy. Suddenly, a sharp voice cut through the crowd, filled with venom and hatred.
"Die, witch!" someone screamed from the throng, the word a bitter curse aimed directly at her soul.
Anna flinched as the words struck her, deeper than any physical wound could. She longed to cry out, to defend herself, but her voice was trapped in her throat. The harsh accusation hung in the air, a bitter reminder of the fear and ignorance that had led her to this moment.
Then, another voice rang out, dripping with self-righteous fervor, "May the flames cleanse your soul!"
A bitter laugh escaped Anna’s lips, surprising even herself. "Cleanse my soul?" she thought, a flicker of defiance sparking within her. "My soul is far purer than those who condemn me."
She lifted her chin, wishing she could see the faces of the people who had sentenced her to this fate. Instead, she turned toward the crowd, her voice steady despite the storm of fear inside her. "You speak of cleansing, yet it is your own hearts that are stained with hatred and fear."
The guard standing beside her growled, "Silence, witch! Your words hold no power here."
Anna faced the voice, a sad smile forming on her lips as she turned to him. "Perhaps not," she replied softly, "but neither do your flames have power over the truth."
Anna's long, wavy red hair hung in wild disarray, matted with sweat and dirt, falling loosely around her shoulders and down to her waist. The once-soft linen chemise clung uncomfortably to her skin beneath the coarse wool robe, offering little comfort against the harsh, biting chill of the morning air. She could feel the eyes of the commoners fixed on her, their gazes burning with a mix of fear and twisted fascination.
"Look at her hair!" a woman’s shrill voice sliced through the crowd. "Red as hellfire itself! Proof of her wickedness!"
Anna’s face, streaked with tears, burned with shame. The weight of the crowd’s malice pressed down on her like a physical force, suffocating her. She wanted to scream, to defend herself against their ignorant accusations, but her throat felt raw and tight, as if the words could not escape.
Instead, she closed her eyes tighter, trying to block out the world around her. In the darkness behind her eyelids, flashes of her life before this moment danced before her; a peaceful herb garden she had lovingly tended, the grateful smiles of those she had healed with her knowledge. How quickly they had all turned on her.
"Please," Anna whispered hoarsely, her voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd. "Please, Gods... save me."
As the words left her lips, a sudden gust of wind swept through the square, causing the flames of the nearby torches to flicker and dance wildly. For a brief, fleeting moment, Anna dared to believe it was a sign; an answer to her desperate plea.
But the wind died as quickly as it had come, leaving only the harsh, mocking jeers of the crowd in its wake. Anna’s heart sank as the last remnants of hope within her began to flicker and fade, threatening to extinguish entirely.
"The Gods won’t save you, witch," a gruff voice sneered from beside her. "They’ve abandoned you to your fate."
Anna turned her head toward the voice, her green eyes flashing with a mixture of defiance and despair. "And what do you know of the Gods' will?" she challenged, surprised by the strength in her own voice. "They see beyond your petty fears and superstitions."
The man spat at her feet; his face twisted with disgust. "Your words mean nothing now," he hissed. "Soon, the flames will silence you forever."
As the crowd’s bloodlust grew, Anna retreated into herself once more. "If this is to be my end," she thought, her resolve hardening with each step, "let it be on my terms. I may die today, but I will not give them the satisfaction of breaking me."
The burly guard’s meaty hand clasped Anna's shoulder, his fingers digging into her flesh as he shoved her forward. The rough cobblestones beneath her bare feet felt like jagged stones, each step cut deeper into her, a constant reminder of the pain that awaited her.
"Here we are, witch," the guard growled, his hot breath searing her ear as he pushed her roughly towards the execution site. "Your pyre awaits." He removed the hood from her head. “I want you to see what’s coming next.”
Anna stumbled, nearly collapsing under the weight of her own despair, and found herself face to face with the towering wooden stake at the center of the execution ground. The acrid scent of pitch and oil filled her nostrils, making her stomach churn in dread. She could see the remains of others accused of witchcraft that were burned at the stake…flames still smoldering. The stench of burnt flesh filled the air.
"This can’t be happening," she thought, her mind spinning as she stared at the carefully arranged kindling. "How can they not see the truth?" The thought swirled in her head, a mix of disbelief and sorrow, as she faced the cruel finality of her fate.
Anna was dragged up the stairs to the pyre by the guard. He began securing Anna to the post, the rough ropes biting into her already bruised wrists and ankles, each knot pulling tighter. As he worked, Anna’s gaze swept over the sea of faces before her; neighbors, friends, people she had known her entire life. Now, their expressions were twisted with hatred and fear, unrecognizable from the faces she had once trusted.
"You're making a terrible mistake," Anna called out, her voice cracking with emotion. "I'm innocent of these charges. Please, listen to reason!"
But instead of a response, a deafening roar consumed her senses, drowning out her desperate pleas for mercy. The chants of the crowd, demanding her death, reverberated through her body, each word feeling like a physical blow. With trembling hands, she squeezed her eyes shut in a futile attempt to block out the cruel reality that was crashing down upon her. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she braced herself for the inevitable.
The executioner, a towering figure draped in black, stepped forward. His voice, deep and commanding, boomed across the square, silencing the crowd for a moment. "This witch and mother of the devil has been cursed and brought evil to our village!" he declared, his words echoing through the air with authority.
Anna’s heart skipped a beat, and her mind reeled. "Mother of the devil? Cursed? How can they believe such lies?" The weight of their false accusations crashed over her like a tidal wave, overwhelming her reason. How had everything spiraled so far out of control?
The executioner continued, his words growing more frantic and unhinged with each breath. "She caused the storm that sank the princess’s ship on her way to Scotland. We must burn her now!"
A fresh wave of terror surged through Anna, flooding her veins with ice-cold dread. “The princess' ship. I've never even seen the sea!" she wanted to scream.
"Can't you see I'm innocent?" Anna pleaded, her voice quivering with fear and desperation. The words tumbled out; each one soaked with the terror coursing through her veins. "I've done nothing wrong! Please, don't do this!"
She searched the guard’s face for any sign of compassion, any flicker of doubt. But his expression remained as cold and unyielding as stone. He used a torch and lit the pyre, laughing and sneering at Anna.
"Why won't they listen?" Anna thought, her heart pounding so fiercely that she feared it might burst from her chest. "How can they condemn me without proof?"
Anna closed her eyes, shutting out the hateful glares and jeering faces. In the darkness behind her eyelids, she found a fleeting moment of stillness. It was the only peace she could find in that unbearable moment of chaos.
"Gods, if you're out there," Anna prayed silently, her thoughts a desperate whisper in the void. "Hear me now. I don't deserve this fate. Let justice be served."
The smell of smoke filled her nostrils, sharp and suffocating, pulling her from her thoughts. Anna's eyes snapped open, and she saw the flames growing larger, their hungry dance reaching her. The crowd's cheers grew louder, a twisted celebration of her impending doom.
"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd. "Please, no."
But as the first lick of flame caressed the hem of her tattered robe, Anna felt a sickening certainty settle in her stomach. Divine intervention would not come. The pain, the heat, and the injustice of it all hit her like a wave, drowning out every ounce of hope she had left.
The painful reality wrapped around her like a shroud, suffocating any remaining hope and leaving only bitter despair. She could no longer deny it. This was her end.
"How did it come to this?" she thought, her mind reeling with disbelief. "Yesterday, I was Anna Koldings, a respected midwife and healer. Today, I'm to die in agony, branded a witch and a monster by the very people I once called neighbors and friends." The weight of it all felt unbearable, and yet, she could do nothing to change it.
The heat intensified, and Anna's breath came in short, panicked gasps. "I don't want to die," she thought, terror clawing at her insides. "Not like this. Not for nothing."
The flames reached higher, their blistering warmth wrapping around her, making every breath feel like it might be her last.
As the fire roared, Anna’s gaze swept across the crowd one last time, searching desperately for a single sympathetic face, someone who might see the truth behind the lies. But all she saw was a sea of hatred and fear, their faces contorted and twisted by the shimmering heat.
"Remember me," she wanted to scream, but the words stuck in her throat, swallowed by the chaos. "Remember the truth. I am innocent!" The words never left her lips, drowned by the gut-wrenching screams of agony as the flames began to lick at her lower body.
Her world was consumed by an inferno of blistering pain, searing every nerve and fiber of her being. The pain was all-encompassing, a fire that spread through her flesh, until all that remained was the suffocating heat and the unbearable ache.
The crowd’s chants grew louder, their voices like the pounding of a drum, relentless and unforgiving.
"Burn, witch, burn!" they cried, their words driving deep into Anna’s soul, amplifying the suffering.
Her heart pounded like a hammer against her chest, each beat a brutal reminder that time was running out, that her life was slipping away with every passing second. The smoke clawed at her eyes, the sting making them water as she fought to stay conscious, to keep a grip on the reality that was slipping away in the smoke and flames surrounding her.
"I am not a witch," Anna thought desperately, clinging to the last remnants of her identity, her mind frantically repeating the words in the hope they would somehow make sense of the nightmare she was trapped in. "I am Anna. I heal. I help. I am innocent."
The mantra was the only thing that kept her tethered to the woman she once was, but it felt fragile, as if it might slip away at any moment.
Her silent protestations were drowned out by the deafening jeers and taunts that came from all directions. She recognized the voices of people she once knew well; like the baker's wife who had always smiled at her as they passed in the market, the blacksmith's son who had once been a playful child; now their voices filled with anger. Their words consumed by something dark and hateful that seemed to burn hotter than the flames themselves.
As the heat intensified, Anna's thoughts spiraled, racing through the memories of her life. She thought of the people she had helped; the countless babies she had delivered, the sick she had soothed, the lives she had touched.
"This can't be how it ends," she pleaded silently to any god who might listen, her heart aching with the weight of her fate. "There must be a purpose to this suffering. Please, let there be meaning in my death."
But the words felt hollow, swallowed by the rising flames and the crowd’s unrelenting chants.
A thick cloud of smoke rose around her, and the flames began to engulf her, suffocating her in their fiery embrace. Every breath became a struggle; each inhale a burning reminder of her body’s slow destruction. It felt as though her very lungs were alight, each gasp a desperate plea for relief. She tightly squeezed her eyes shut; tears unable to form before they were evaporated by the scorching heat.
"Gods, take me now," she prayed silently, her thoughts a tangle of terror and regret. "Let this end quickly."
But even as she begged for release, death did not come swiftly. Instead, memories began to flash before her eyes. She saw the herbs she had gathered in the wild, the ones that healed so many. She remembered the comforting words she’d whispered to the dying, the soft touch of her hands as she had tried to ease their suffering. Now all of it; her care, her service; felt twisted and condemned by the very people she had sought to help.
Through the thick smoke and pain, Anna struggled to keep her eyes open, focusing on the crowd one last time. And then, in the distance, she saw a face she knew. Old Willem, the carpenter, the husband of the woman she had helped deliver their child. His eyes met hers, and for a fleeting moment, she saw something shift in them; a flicker of doubt, perhaps a memory of her kindness.
"Willem," she croaked, her voice barely rising above the roar of the flames. "You know me. You know I’m no witch." The words were weak, but in them, she hoped to find the thread of humanity that still existed in the crowd.
But Willem turned away, his eyes filled with unbearable guilt, unable to meet her gaze any longer. And in that moment, as his back was turned, Anna realized the full weight of her fate; not just to die, but to be forgotten, her existence rewritten as a lesson to the fearful. In the eyes of those she had known, she was no longer the healer, the friend, the woman who had once helped them. She was a monster, a symbol of everything they feared.
As the flames climbed higher, something strange happened. An unexpected calm washed over Anna, a stillness that seemed to separate her from the world around her. The chaotic jeers of the crowd faded into the background, as if muffled by an invisible hand. The air thickened, humming with an unseen energy. It was a brief moment, but in it, Anna’s heart found a flicker of something she hadn't felt in what seemed like an eternity…hope.
"Could it be?" she thought, her pulse quickening. "Have the Gods heard my pleas?"
The thought was absurd, yet the sensation of power gathering in the air around her felt undeniable. The flames continued to lick at her, but the sensation of them no longer felt all-encompassing. The sky above Copenhagen seemed to shimmer with strange energy.
Then, the night sky above her exploded in a magnificent, blinding display of light. It was unlike anything Anna had ever seen; brilliant and overwhelming, a breathtaking eruption of color that illuminated the entire square. The crowd gasped in fear, some dropping to their knees, others crying out in confusion and terror.
“What sorcery is this?” one villager shouted, his voice trembling, eyes wide with disbelief.
Anna, stunned and gasping for air, could hardly comprehend what was happening. She had no words; only wide eyes filled with awe and fear as the radiant light descended upon her. "I don't understand," she whispered to no one in particular, her voice shaky, caught between wonder and confusion.
But unknown to the onlookers, a powerful spell was at work. Magi’s magic, ancient and deep, was taking hold. As the arcane light from the heavens poured down, Anna could feel something extraordinary surge within her. It was as if the very earth beneath her feet and the skies above her had reached out to touch her, filling her with an energy she had never known. The air crackled, charged with unstoppable force, and Anna felt, for the first time in what seemed like forever, that something beyond her suffering was happening; something powerful, something that could change her fate.
"By all that's holy," the executioner stammered, stepping back, his voice shaking with disbelief. "The witch...she's... changing!"
Anna's body shimmered, her skin glowing with an ethereal light. The flames, once ravenous and eager to consume her, now seemed to bend away, recoiling from her like a hesitant animal. She felt an overwhelming surge of power, a flood of energy coursing through her veins, as if the very air around her was alive and charged with something ancient. In that moment, she knew. She was no longer the woman who had been condemned. She was something different, something greater.
"This can't be happening," Anna thought, her heart pounding as the transformation swept through her. "Am I truly becoming... a witch? I shall return from the ashes."
A surge of fear and awe gripped her heart, but amidst it all, there was a sense of clarity. Her body was no longer bound to the earth, no longer shackled by the mortal limits that had once defined her. The power was flowing through her, transforming her into something that was both terrifying and liberating.
From the shadows of a nearby alleyway, Murdach watched the scene unfold. His long silver hair, now loose and flowing in the night air, fluttered around his face, caught in the gentle breeze. His sea-green eyes, filled with both sorrow and wonder, reflected the radiant light surrounding Anna. Tears streamed down his weathered face; his heart heavy with the realization of what was happening.
"My beloved, it begins," Murdach whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his breath catching in his chest. The weight of centuries-old prophecies pressed down on him as he watched Anna’s transformation.
His hands balled into fists at his sides, every inch of him yearning to rush forward, to hold her, to protect her. But he knew this was her journey, one that had been foretold long before either of them had been born. He was not meant to intervene, only to guide her through the trials that lay ahead.
"I will be there for you," he vowed silently, his heart torn. "Always."
As the villagers stood frozen in shock, Anna’s form began to fade from view. The ropes that had bound her unraveled, disintegrating into wisps of smoke that vanished into the night. The stake, once solid and unyielding, seemed to blur and flicker like a mirage. The very air around her shifted, as if reality itself was warping to accommodate her new, otherworldly presence. The fire that had threatened to end her life was now a distant memory, unable to touch her as she ascended beyond the reach of those who had once condemned her.
"She's disappearing!" a woman cried, clutching her child tightly against her chest. "The witch is escaping!"
His eyes never left Anna…no, The Witch now, as her form shimmered, fading in and out of existence. He felt the raw cosmic energy swirling around her, a force so powerful it seemed to bend the fabric of reality itself. She was being pulled through time and space, her body dissolving into something beyond the reach of the mortals who had condemned her.
"Remember, my love," he thought fiercely, his mind reaching out to her, desperate for her to hold on to the truth. "Remember who you truly are."
With one final, blinding burst of light, Anna vanished completely, leaving only the lingering echo of her presence in the air. The villagers erupted into chaos, their bloodlust quickly turning to confusion, then fear.
"What does this mean?" an old man cried out, his voice shaking. "Has the end of days come upon us?"
Murdach stepped back, retreating into the deeper shadows. His heart raced as he felt the weight of what had just transpired. He knew the wait would be long. This was not the end, but the beginning. The Witch would return, reborn in a time of even greater danger and possibility, and he would be there to guide her when the time came.
"Until we meet again," he whispered to the winds, his voice soft but resolute. "May the Gods watch over you."
In the crowd, a woman with trembling hands pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, her wide eyes filled with dread.
"Is she gone?" she whispered to no one in particular, her voice barely audible above the whispers of the onlookers. "Or has she become something... else?"
Her story is only beginning.
Anna is gone. The Witch has risen. Continue Labyrinth of Shadows, Book I of the award-winning Witch's Rebirth series.
Labyrinth of Shadows
Cauldron of Dagda
Spear of Lugh
The Gambit of Queens