She seemed unfazed as she was pushed into golden cage by the shadows. At least, that was what she thought they were, judging by their paper-thinness and pitch black appearance.
In this kind of situation, surely the victim, the hostage, would be bound, right? Rope around the wrists, gag in the mouth, a blindfold for the finishing touch. They would be kicking, screaming, their pleas for mercy and cries for help muffled by a gag or a hand over their lips. Tears of desperation streaming down their cheeks, either hot with rage or pale in fear. Their life flashing before their eyes as they realized their end was near. See, this it what would usually happen.
Usually.
Cinder had no binds, for resistance and escape were futile. No blindfold, she knew as well as they did that there was certainly no surprise. There were no tears, she wasn't angry nor was she quaking with fear. She didn't need to come to terms with her demise, it was part of why she was there in the first place.
This was a unique situation. Her Punishment.
Cinder looked down at her glass slippers as the gate to her birdcage-like prison was shut and locked. She heard the faint fizz as the key was thrown into the lava below. She didn't dare to look back at the shadows, her captors. If they were to report to Him, He would revel in her regret. In her eyes, he deserved no such satisfaction.
It's no secret, she thought as her cage drifted towards the centre of the pit of scorching lava.
She had started a war, committing a great sin and causing the deaths of thousands. The only way for her to atone was for her soul to be incinerated, no longer to be recycled for reincarnation or to wander an afterlife woven just for her.
In His eyes, she did not deserve either pleasure.
Her hands found their way to the bars surrounding her. Slender fingers wrapped themselves around two of them as she leaned forward slightly.
The cage was descending at a snail's pace. Tension filled the hot air as the vanquishing of her essence drew near. She'd been calm before, but anxiety rippled through her body. Her seemingly glowing orbs showed no sign of this.
Any memory of why she'd even thought of committing a heinous crime was long gone. There were many negative feelings involved in it, though, because she always scowled when trying to remember.
She was certain that scythe wielder had something to do with it. That person, she couldn't recall the gender, was so good a fighter she earned the nickname Grim Reaper.
Cinder wished she could tell any fool who'd called them that that nobody was like Death Himself.
She'd met him as soon as she died. It had not been pleasant. He'd sent her to the pit, sentenced her to her ultimate death. There was no way to forget the biggest scythe she'd ever seen being constantly raised above His head.
Cinder could feel the intense heat burning into her skin. She felt like she was melting.
How ironic.
The Dust mistress had killed many with her lava Dust. Now, she was to be devoured by the seemingly calescent substance.
She was on the brink of burning in Hell.
As the lava neared, she tried to make herself feel better.
At least I have it better than some other poor souls.
When she'd been walking through the halls, guided to her fate, she'd peeked through any and every door out of curiosity.
Torture lay behind every one.
She'd seen a few people strapped into guillotines. Some were getting cut in half by saws of many kinds. A poor woman had been burned at the stake. Someone had been silently shrieking in terror as leeches squirmed all over their body.
Cunder was merely going through a painless second death. Or so she thought.
Her cage had been descending at a snail's pace, after all.
First were her high heels preserving the rest of her feet for a brief few seconds. This was it for her.
Normally, whoever was sentenced to this type of termination would have squeezed through the bars and climbed to the top of the cage to stall for time. Cinder thought it futile: there was nothing for her to grab onto that would get her out of his situation. Nobody would let her leave anyway.
When the lava reached her ankles, she began to really feel it. Her once pale, perfect skin was bubbling, turning into a disgusting shade of red and gaining a nasty texture. She looked down daringly, instantly regretting it and looking back up. In her shock, her hands had released the bars in their grasp and joined her legs in the searing liquid. Reflexively, she took them out and stared at them in horror.
It was the ugliest thing she'd ever seen. They were like beasts so hideous you could not describe. She could barely register that those unrecognizable things were attached to her dissolving body.
In the end, there were no remains, not one cinder.