When they were far enough, Hallun finally regained control of themself. They looked back at the mansion, burning away on the hill. Men and women flooding the hills, torch in hand, shouting to lynch the devil worshipper.

Hallun tried to go back, but past a certain distance, their limbs would freeze up, only allowing them free movement once they took back their step. Father’s orders blazed in their soul, binding them to never approach His house.

They could do naught but stare as He was brought out, clothes in tatters, battered by the common folks.

When He was in danger, when He needed their help, they could only watch.

And so that was what they did. Hallun stood there, watching as the men and women built a pyre using the wooden remains. They watched as He was strung up, and hung onto the pyre as the flames took Him.

“…”