According to legend, when smoke came out of the woods, it was the pagans performing sacrifices, burning beasts and men alike. The prince was skeptical about it and one day, he decided to check.
Venturing into the woods at night, he went into the general direction of the smoke. He came upon a clearing, in the middle of which a wooden figure of an angel was burning. The pagans kneeled around it, their heads touching the ground. They were silent and unmoving.
Something caught the prince’s eye; the angel seemed to be looking right at him. For a second, he thought he saw a tear falling from one of its eyes as it gradually turned into a pile of ash—
One of the wild men yanked the prince towards the clearing. They pointed daggers and bows at him, shouting that it was a crime punishable by death to interrupt their rites.
They seemed to have noticed something was wrong. Looking into his eyes, the pagans recoiled, covering their faces, screaming and running away.
The prince, confused, went back to the castle.
The demon never left his side.
My first attempt at Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge.
This does sort of fit retribution, doesn’t it? At least I hope so.
All comments (including criticism) are welcome!