"I should have been honest," I say.

The crowd murmurs their agreement, some go as far as throwing rocks my way. But the Mage-Knights, the ones that are here to kill me. They maintain their even looks, all ten of them in their silver armour and helmets alive with bright mana.

"You are sentenced to death for the killing of Martin Lersak, one of the greatest mage's of our time," Leaonis, the Knight-captain, says.

I nod. "He was my husband, I loved him very much. I accept."

The ten swords in the soil around my body rise into the air, I hold my hands in the folds of my coat, waiting for death.

Each sword angles in the correct manner, so that they can kill me in one swift stroke.

"I'm ready," I say.

The crowd around cheers. "Kill the witch!" one civilian says.

I smile.

The sword strike down, slashing through the fold of the coat and biting into my flesh. I feel the cold metal points first, then I feel my body weaken to nothing more than loose flesh. Each saber digs deeper, they penetrate guts, lungs, and my heart.

The world is waining. But I say the words. "Relic of Death, now is the time."

The book floats up from the folds of my coat, it glows bright green, a blinding light. The Knights place their hands over their eyes.

"I thought you disarmed her!" A knight says.

The crowd screams.

Each sword pulls from my body and I fall to the ground, limp. The wounds of my body seal, but the blood is in pools around me. "I am no killer," I tell them.

They should know this.

I smack the book open. "Devour!" I say.

The blood streams around me in a whirlwind of droplets, they splatter onto the page one spec at a time, until both pages are full. "My husband died trying to understand this relic with me. Only now, I know that it has been waiting for a trade."

My heart is thudding in my chest, I'm not sure if this will work. But I try. "Awaken!" I say.

The book lights up once more, this time with red. The ground shakes. A hand pushes its way from the page, then a head, then a torso, and legs follow, and a man has climbed out from the pages. He's covered in blood.

"Ayyana," he says.

That's my name. "Martin," I whisper.

"What the heck took you so long?" Martin asks.