As she was my enemy, I heeded the word of the Betrayer and so sentenced her to die. Thus she was bound upon the pyre so that all might bear witness.
But as the Prophet burned, a silence fell. For though flame licked mortal flesh, she would not cry. The hearts of the people filled with shame, and all were silent with her.
I thought it defiance and, though I marveled at her strength, my heart was yet unmoved.
It was then the Prophet raised her eyes, her visage wreathed with sacred flame. It was then I saw her sorrow and her acceptance. I felt the flame eat mine own flesh. I felt its slow death upon me and knew her suffering.
Through flame I walked and drove the sword into her heart. And so the Prophet was released. The Maker whispered in my ear and knew I had become the instrument of His will.