Eve of Enlightenment

Chapter 24

The trial is held in the village square, if only because there is nowhere else large enough to host it. Everyone is in attendance. Farms go untended (not that there is much left to tend), shops unmanned. The town is at a standstill. Bodies pile around the makeshift stage dozens deep. Those at the back can hardly hear, but the words are passed in a whisper, outward, like a rippling tide.

In spite of the myriad witnesses, none step forward to offer their testimony. It is wagered that those who weren't intimidated were paid. Dager glowers at the crowd as he calls for anyone to come. Beneath his invitation is a warning.

The defendant takes his place at the stand, and, even at my disadvantaged place in the crowd, I can see that he is shivering. In this case, Dager has taken many roles: he is the plaintiff, the bailiff, the judge. He fires questions and accusations, at the trembling, Incarnate-less man (his own wolfhound growling at his side), moving on before anyone has had the chance to answer. It is a butchering. The man stands no chance.

The audience is horrified, but a guilty verdict is rendered in record time. Wolves escort the man from the village. Some trail after them, offering weak protests, but the march continues nonetheless.

"As you can see, these Incarnates are dangerous." The announcement is made from the same stage that sentenced a scapegoat weeks prior. In their own defense, the voices are louder this time.

"How will we feed our family?"

"My Kono is harmless! He would never survive alone in those woods!"

There are judgments made in private by a limited jury, and, one by one, Incarnates are ushered back into the forest from whence they came. The only notice is the knock at the door. The silent trudge to the wall with Wolves nipping at your heels. Some resist, and they too are ousted from the village. It seems the only hope is to keep out of it, and hope your time never comes.

"We were wrong to bring them here. They belong out there. Not in our village," Dager continues to preach, even as the Incarnate's numbers dwindle by the day. 

Fields are empty as are the shelves. Or at least that's what I've heard... I haven't been allowed in the stores in weeks. Our family survives off of what we have saved, what we can beg off of others. I cannot imagine what it has taken out of Enos, being forced to humble himself in this way for our survival. Every day, he seems more and more diminished. Every night, we fall asleep to rumbling bellies. At least, we have our Incarnates, I tell myself as Wart scrabbles in his makeshift cage. For whatever that's worth... Some days I wish for our safety, our togetherness. Some days I just wish for it all to be finished.

Propaganda papers every surface in town. Every day, there is a new face missing. There is no knowing who will be next until they are gone. Our village is a ghost town. When my time comes, we are not surprised. 

I have had no end of hushed, urgent conversations with Corsa this past month deep into the night, long after the others have gone to bed. She and I are alone in this. Enos and the twins are not in danger, with no Incarnates of their own to lose. When the time comes, I tell her, I want her to come with me.

"I can't, Kal." I have seen more tears from her in the cover of darkness now than I have in a lifetime. "I need to take care of them."

At least when an Incarnate is sacrificed to the wilderness, rations are restored to the remaining family. It is almost a relief when the day comes that I must make my decision. For the sake of my family, I must make it. They will be safer. They will, at least, be fed. 

It is this hope that is all that matters. Without it, there is nothing. So, when they come for me, I go without a fight.