The Southern Isles- 15 days after the Great Thaw, Execution Day

Outside of the cell, the birds are softly chirping and tweeting a song of joy and love that speaks of spring and sunshine. I can't help but hum along with them, and I smile even though, I know my death is hours away. The song seems to mock the life that I can't have and know that I never will have. I sit in the glistening sunshine basking in the warmth of the world. I love the light, the fire, the life that the world seems to be dangling in front of my nose. I just want to experience them one last time before I'm gone turning into ash in the wind.

At high noon, a guard yanks open the door. I'm spread across the icy, stone floor as if making a snow angel. The guard walks over to me, grasps my hand, and jostles me into a standing position almost dislocating my shoulder. He shackles my hands together, and we begin the long upward ascent into the sunlight. When I take the last few steps, the light burns into my eyes. My eyes are suddenly filled with white, red, and orange which I can't see pass. Finally I regain my sight, and I can see the immense pile of wood in the middle of the square. A single trunk is thrust in the middle seeming to grow larger as if drawing life from my dread. A large audience of people encircles the pile in silence; each member wearing a face of dread and depression.

The guard ties me to the trunk with rope which cuts into my wrists. I refuse to grimace. If I die, I die with honor. I'll go to my death believing that I am been virtuous and noble. A dark, hooded man reads off the charges in a deafening roar announcing, "Hans of the Southern Isles is sentenced to death at the stake for treason and attempted murder. May he find peace elsewhere." The man is then handed a torch which he places at the base of the mass of wood.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the flames take to the wood. Each one shimmers red, yellow, orange, and gold dancing with a fiery passion. They approach me quickly eating and consuming. I refuse to stare at the fire, and I keep my eyes forward unseeing. Suddenly, a whisper of heat licks my flesh. The whisper begins to move up my legs to my chest and my arms engulfing my body in an inferno. A pain shoots through my entire body ripping through my muscle and flesh like a sword. I can't help but shriek in agony, and my voice flies from my body of its own accord. I plead to just die and stop feeling. I beg to no longer grace the world with my presence.

In an instant, everything disappears. A coldness as frigid as death fills my body from head to toe. I feel as if my blood has been replaced by ice and my mind with snow. I feel myself giving in, drifting in and out of consciousness. I want to stop resisting and fall asleep. An image, brought on by the cold, flashes by my eyes. I see the White Queen for only an instant. Her exquisite blonde hair flows behind her with her sapphire eyes gleaming mischievously as snow spins and spirals around her. Her glittering icy blue dress streams behind her shimmering gracefully.

Suddenly, my heart begins to burn intensely. It burns with a fiery passion that I have never experienced before. It feels as if the flames are engulfing my heart. The strange thing is that I like the feeling. Before I wanted to live. Now I need to live. Life begins to course through me, and I pull away from the cold. My heart is full of flames and spirit. I struggle to breath and move, but I can't. Something dark and ominous is pushing on my chest preventing me from drawing breath. I continue to struggle, and suddenly, the shadow gives in. I take a desperate gasp.