Promise: The Scarred Girl (22 page)

She is torn under her arms and her legs and the pain in her back causes her to cry out again. She wants it to stop even if it means her death.

The guards drag her from the platform to the stake. Like a doll, they press her to the stake and tie her hands behind her back firmly. The wood on her bare skin burns like fire and she jerks forward, but her bound arms hold her in place.

The smell of fire rises into her nose and she sees Urelitas with a torch in front of the pyre. He yells something but cannot understand him. She has the feeling of being in a whirlpool and being spun around in a circle.

Urelitas drops the torch on a pile of straw located at the base of the pyre and the flames spread greedily. The rising smoke burns Nea’s eyes. Her throat is sore from all of her screaming. She tries to hold her breath. She can feel the heat of the fire. Her whole body burns as though it were already in flames. She stretches her head to the sky and feels the light rain on her face. God will not save her. If there is a heaven, she will be with her parents and Miro soon. That’s what she always wanted. Maybe it’s better this way.

She opens her eyes and her gaze falls on the topmost window of the town hall. A bright white cloth sails down at her, almost like a dove. It flutters in the wind. Nea is fascinated by the sight. From far away, she hears someone scream, “Stop!” She would recognize that voice anywhere. Her head is playing a prank on her in her final moments.

The cloth falls on her face and covers her eyes. She breathes in the smell of ripe oranges and somehow feels secure. It is the scent of another time, a better time.

As the cloth falls off her face, she sees that several guards have rushed to the stake and are trying to extinguish it with water. The gray smoke causes Nea to cough. What is happening here? Why are they putting out the flames? Did Kasia tell them to stop?

The smoke around her is so dense that she cannot see anything. She hears someone walking up behind her. Her binds holding her to the stake come loose. Before she can tilt forward, strong hands close in around her hips. Someone holds her shoulders and then lifts her up. She is dizzy from the movement and struggles to not lose consciousness. She cannot give up now. She needs to find out what’s going on.

She raises her head and looks into the most beautiful face she has ever seen. Eyes as blue as the sky on a summer day. It is Miro. Nea is sure she must be dead already. Otherwise she cannot explain this miracle.

Miro walks down from the stake and when he reaches the bottom, all Carris bow before him. Even Urelitas.

“Ereb is chaos, chaos is Ereb,” Miro roars. This does not make sense to Nea. What does he have to do with the Carris? Heaven is a strange place.

“I will spare this woman and command that no one may ever hurt a hair on her ever again,” Miro continues in a commanding tone. He sounds nothing like the Miro she knew. Though he never lacked self-confidence, he was never authoritarian.

No one dares to contradict him. Miro’s gaze wanders to Nea, still lying in his arms. A warm and loving expression fills his eyes. “I never thought I would see you again,” he whispers. Tears cover his eyes.

‘
Is this really heaven?’
Nea thinks. Everything feels so real. But Miro is dead! She saw him fall off the cliff... he must be dead.

“Speak to me, Nea,” Miro begs her, crying. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Is it really possible that Miro and Ereb are one and the same person? Nea remembers that there were Carris before his death, but at that time they were only a small sect, completely harmless. But after Miro’s death, they suddenly became powerful. That was when the story of their god who rose up from the sea started spreading. If it’s really true, it would mean that Miro must have survived the fall and never returned. It would mean he did not care about her.

With a jolt, Nea repels Miro and falls to the ground. Kasia runs to her side.

“Nea, I’m so terribly sorry,” she weeps and stretches her hands out to Nea to help her up. Nea just stares at her, stunned. If Miro is Ereb, then he is married to Kasia. Not only that, he is the father of her child. She will never forgive Miro.

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o be continued...

T
here are many people who have accompanied me on the long journey of writing this novel. In order to explain how important this book is to me, I will have to go back quite far. This is not just one novel of many; this was my first real work. I started writing this book three years ago, but never dared to publish it. It always ended up back in the drawer, only to be pulled out and revised again every few months. More work has gone into this one than into any of my other works. I am now happy to send this book out into the big wide world out there. But, it would have been impossible for me without the help of some wonderful people.

This novel is dedicated to Sabrina Keim. She helped me not only to capture my dreams, but to write them down as well. She was one of the first people to have read the rough draft of “Promise.” To talk to her about the characters of the book was to talk about common acquaintances.

Sabrina has read the book and found it good. Without her consent, I would have given up immediately. I love our hours of conversations about books and series.

This book brought me closer to my in-laws, Henny Schäfer-Einfinger and Lutz Einfinger. Asking them to read my book was like inviting them to take a look into my soul. In every book I write, there is a piece of my personality.

Of course I am also grateful for my proofreaders, Michaela Wiedau, Lisa Czieslik, Manja Teichner, Carina Griendl, Katharine Heil, and Nicole Geldmacher. Your corrections encouraged me to give this work the finishing touches.

Thanks also to Ines Caranaubahx. She has shown great patience with me and my cover needs. The result, which you can see here, not only reflects the atmosphere of the book, but is better than I ever dared to hope. I am already looking forward to the cover for the second part.

The best has been saved for last, and in this case, this is my husband, Robert Schäfer. Since we have been together I have never seen him with a book in his hand. However, I was allowed to read my written lines to him every night. This not only motivated me, but made me happy. In a relationship, it is not important that you share hobbies, but it is important to support each other’s dreams. My husband could not have done better.