"Tell me exactly what happened at the mine collapse," Roland said.
Anna nodded and began her story.
Roland was surprised. He had expected her to remain silent, or to plead, or to curse them. Instead, she answered calmly, saying only what was asked.
The story was not complicated. Anna's father was a miner. When the collapse occurred, Anna and other miners' families rushed into the tunnels to rescue their loved ones. The North Slope Mines were rumored to have once been a monster's lair, with countless branching passages. Without proper coordination, the rescuers scattered in all directions.
When Anna found her father, only two other people were with him: Mrs. Susan from the neighborhood and Uncle Onk.
Her father's leg was crushed under an ore cart, unable to move. Another miner was looting his body while he lay helpless. When the thief saw he had been discovered, he raised his pickaxe to kill Uncle Onk. Anna struck first, killing the robber.
The couple swore not to reveal her secret, and together they rescued Anna's father. But before dawn the next day, her father hobbled out on his crutches and reported his daughter's witchcraft to the patrolling guards.
"Why?" Roland could not help asking.
Barrow sighed. "For the reward, presumably. Twenty-five gold dragons for reporting a witch. For a man with a crushed leg, that was enough to live on for the rest of his life."
Roland fell silent for a moment. "The attacker was a strong, grown man. How did you kill him?"
At this, Anna smiled. Like ripples disturbing a lake's surface, the torch flames flickered.
"The devil's power, of course."
"Silence, witch!" the warden shouted, though his voice trembled.
"Is that so? I would like to see." Roland was unmoved.
"Your Highness, this is no joking matter!" Carter turned, frowning.
Roland stepped past the knight and approached the cell. "Those who are afraid may leave. I did not order you to stay."
"Do not panic! She wears the Divine Punishment Lock!" Barrow shouted, trying to reassure the others—or himself. "No devil's power can break God's protection."
Roland stood at the bars, an arm's length from Anna. He could see her face clearly—dusty, bruised, young. Her features were those of a girl not yet grown, yet her expression held no childishness. Nor did it show anger or fear.
It was an unsettling combination. Roland had seen such expressions before—on orphans who had suffered poverty, hunger, and cold. But those orphans had hunched their shoulders and lowered their heads. Anna did not.
Even now, she stood straight, looking up, meeting Roland's eyes directly.
She was not afraid of death, Roland realized. She was waiting for it.
"First time seeing a sorceress, my lord? Your curiosity might be the death of you."
"If the devil's power were truly so dangerous, a single glance would have killed me already," Roland replied. "In that case, I should be dead, not your father."
The torchlight suddenly dimmed. This time Roland was certain—the flames were being suppressed, shrinking until only a small flame remained. Behind him, he heard rapid breathing, prayers, and the sound of someone falling as they scrambled back.
Roland's heart raced. He felt he stood at a boundary between worlds. On one side lay the familiar world, governed by known laws. On the other lay a realm of mystery and magic.
He was about to cross that threshold.
The lock around Anna's neck—how crude. A red-painted iron chain with a crystal pendant. If her hands had not been bound behind her, she could have broken it easily.
Roland glanced back at the panicked group, then quickly reached through the bars, grabbed the pendant, and yanked. The clasp snapped.
Even Anna seemed surprised by this.
"Show me," Roland whispered. Are you a fraud, an alchemist, or a true witch?
If you pull out bottles and powders now, I will be disappointed.
Then Roland heard a crackling sound—the sound of water vaporizing. White mist rose from the floor as the temperature soared.
He saw flames erupt from beneath Anna's feet, gently licking her bare legs. Then the ground itself ignited. The torch behind him exploded with blinding brightness, as if fed by pure oxygen. The entire cell became as bright as day, accompanied by piercing screams.
The sorceress stepped forward, and the flames moved with her. When she reached the bars, the iron rods transformed into pillars of fire.
Roland had to retreat. The heat was unbearable, searing his skin. In mere breaths, the temperature had jumped from deep autumn to midsummer. But this was different from ordinary summer heat—it came only from the flames, directional and intense. His back felt cold while his front felt as if it would burn.
—She is immune to flame.
Roland finally understood Barrow's words.
She was flame herself. How could she fear herself?
The iron bars glowed deep red, then bright yellow, beginning to melt and warp. This meant temperatures over fifteen hundred degrees—far beyond anything Roland had imagined possible without proper furnaces or insulation.
Everyone except Roland and Carter had collapsed to the floor. The warden had wet himself.
Anna stood naked outside the cell, the shackles that had bound her arms gone. She made no attempt to cover herself, letting her hands hang naturally at her sides. Her lake-blue eyes had returned to their former calm.
"I have satisfied your curiosity, my lord," she said. "Now may I be killed?"
"No," Roland stepped forward and draped his coat over her shoulders, speaking as gently as he could. "Miss Anna, I wish to employ you."