Flashes came to memory of wandering alone for sweeps, plagued by visions and observations of oppression. I had wandered from place to place helping those I could and talking to anyone who would lowbloods and some midbloods of course, the highbloods would have had me executed immediately.
Of course, I knew it had been only a matter of time before they caught me.
The irons burned, of course they did, and as they burned through my wrists and candy red blood drained from them, I felt the whip strike me over and over as I was flogged, splattering more blood atop of the stone. I didn't scream, instead I spoke. I spoke louder than I ever had.
"I know I'm not the only one who believes in equality"
Flashes of memories of speaking with lowbloods and midbloods about doing away with the caste system. Memories of helping others and speaking to them about equality came to mind.
"I know that the caste system is a fragile system that will fall no matter what you do to me."
I looked down from the night sky that I knew I would never see again and looked for The Disciple. She was kneeling in the dirt across the execution ring from me, olive tears falling freely from her face. I silently willed her to run while she still could.
She had listened to every vision I had, she wrote down every sermon and kept it in a book that they had taken from her and burned. I loved her for everything she had done, and for who she was.
"Alternia can truly be equal if you would only listen! There is absolutely no need for culling the weak instead of helping them. There is no need for senseless violence and isolation!"
Long forgotten anger was starting to build in my chest, and it was starting to echo in my voice. I no longer felt the flogging or the irons. I no longer felt the blood drain from my body.
"I know for a fact that it doesn't have to be this way! However the oppressors will not allow change so they can keep their precious power!"
Anger was starting to consume me, something I had never allowed before. I worked with compassion, not anger. This was entirely new to me, and it would be the last thing that I will ever know.
"Those in power only want to stay in power and to crush those beneath them! It doesn't have to be this way! If everyone would only band together and rise against their oppression, progress could truly be made!"
The E%ecutioner said something, but I could no longer hear it anything above my own words
"Does no one wish for a world where everyone is equal? Does no one wish to work together to create something beautiful out of fear that something will destroy it?"
I looked from side to side at the onlookers, rage contorting my features. I saw a range of emotions: fear, joy, shock, rage, despair. I saw every single face twisted in some sort of emotion. My candy red, mutant veins pulsed with rage. My voice echoed in fury. Would no one listen? "
Do any of you know what it is like to have friends regardless of blood color? To know someone regardless of your blood? What does blood color matter anyway?"
I saw trolls of every colored blood look back and forth from each other and speak to one another, but I could not hear it.
"What makes you say that someone with purple blood is any better than one with red blood? There is no logic in the hemospectrum! Absolutely none!"
I turned my head to The Dolorosa. She was sobbing, clapped in cold irons and kneeling in the dirt not too far away from The Disciple. She had saved me from the caverns, and became my first follower. She would always listen to me speak when I was young, and would listen to me speak as I grew older. She shouldn't have had to watch this, The Disciple shouldn't have had to watch this. The Psiioniic had already been taken to be used for the Condescension's ship as her Helmsman. That was a fate far worse than death.
"What says you cannot gather everyone you know and rise up for equality? What does it matter what color your blood was assigned to you at birth? You cannot choose what color blood you were born with!"
I was yelling as loud as I could by now. Not from the agony of the whip or the irons. It was from the blind rage that had overtaken me.
The sheer moral anger that I had kept suppressed for as long as I could remember.
The rage at the fact that the E%ecutioners made The Dolorosa watch.
The rage at the fact that The Disciple is next to be executed.
The rage at the hemospectrum.
The rage at the fact that I will die for standing up for what's right.
The whip stopped scourging my skin, but I didn't notice until I saw the E%ecutor raise his bow and take aim for me.
"Go ahead and kill me E%ecutor!" I spat. "At least I have the sense to die for what I believe in."
As he released the arrow I was greeted with my final vision.
Kankri, as I had learned was his name, was watching me with his pure white eyes. His sweater was as red as ever, and he stood in a way that radiated self righteousness.
I was no longer in irons, I was no longer bleeding or burning. I did not have an arrow piercing through me. I was simply standing as I had any other time besides now.
Kankri held out his hand for me, "Come. There is much for you to see and do."
I hesitantly reached out a hand to the alternate version of myself. I had no idea what he meant, The vision may have lasted a few seconds as the arrow flew and pierced me, and the world went completely black, the last thing I felt being a brief moment of peace.