The ink was wet. It glistened on the parchment like a bruise.

Margaret stood in the center of the room. The air was cold. It bit her nose. It stung her eyes. She held the seal. It was heavy. It was cold. It was a disc of black glass. It had no shine. It drank the light.

"You are trembling," said Master Aldric. He sat behind the desk. The desk was oak. The oak was old. The wood was gray. He did not look up. He looked at his hands. His hands were still.

"I am cold," Margaret said. Her voice was low. It was rough. Like sand on stone.

"It is not cold in here," Aldric said. He spoke softly. He spoke slowly. "The fire burns. The walls are thick. You are not cold. You are afraid."

Margaret looked at the seal. She turned it over. There was no mark on the back. There was only the dark.

"I have to seal it," she said. "The King demands it. The law demands it."

"The law is a tool," Aldric said. He looked up then. His eyes were pale. Like winter sky. "It does not have a soul. It does not have a fear. You have both."

She placed the seal on the parchment. The paper was yellow. It smelled of dust. It smelled of rot. The words were written in black ink. The ink was dry now.

"Read it," Aldric said.

Margaret did not read. She knew the words. She had heard them a hundred times.

*Let it be known,* the words said. *Let it be known that Thomas Bradshaw is guilty. Let it be known that he stole the gold. Let it be known that he will hang at dawn.*

"He did not steal the gold," Margaret said.

Aldric sighed. It was a small sound. It was like a leak in a pipe.

"Who says he did?" Margaret asked.

"The evidence."

"The evidence is broken."

"The evidence is law."

"The law is blind," she said. "The law is deaf. It sees only what it is told to see. It hears only what it is told to hear."

Aldric leaned back. The chair creaked. The wood groaned.

"You are a good clerk, Margaret," he said. "You are precise. You are careful. You are useful. Do not become foolish. Do not become a rebel. There is no glory in rebellion. There is only pain."

"Pain is real," Margaret said. "Lies are not."

"Go," he said. "Seal it."

She lifted the seal. Her hand shook. The seal was heavy. It felt like a stone. It felt like a heart. She pressed it down.

The wax hissed. The wax hardened. The shape remained. The mark was perfect. The mark was wrong.

She walked out. The door closed. The handle turned. The lock clicked.

The hallway was long. The stone was gray. The torches burned. The flames were blue. The blue light danced. It moved on the walls. It moved on her face.

She walked to the stairs. She walked down. The steps were cold. The steps were hard. Her boots echoed. The sound was sharp. The sound was lonely.

She reached the bottom. She stepped into the yard. The yard was empty. The grass was dry. The grass was brown. The wind blew. The wind was cold. The wind carried a smell. It carried a scent of rain. It carried a scent of earth.

He was there.

Thomas Bradshaw stood by the well. He wore a gray coat. The coat was torn. The coat was old. He did not look up. He looked at the ground. He looked at his hands.

"Margaret," he said.

She stopped. She stood still. The wind blew her hair. The hair was dark. The hair was wild.

"I know what you did," he said.

"I sealed the order," she said.

"I know."

She walked to him. Her steps were slow. Her heart beat fast. Her heart beat hard. It beat in her chest. It beat in her throat. It beat in her ears.

"Why?" she asked.

He did not answer. He looked at the well. The water was dark. The water was still. The water reflected the moon. The moon was full. The moon was bright.

"I did not steal the gold," he said.

"I know."

"Then why do they hang me?"

"Because they need a ghost," she said. "Because they need a name. Because they need a end."

"Is that enough?" he asked. "Is your knowledge enough?"

She looked at him. She looked into his eyes. His eyes were brown. His eyes were deep. They were like holes in the earth. They were like wells.

"No," she said. "It is not enough."

She reached into her pocket. She pulled out a small knife. The blade was short. The blade was silver. The blade was clean.

Thomas looked at the knife. He did not flinch. He did not step back. He watched her. He watched her hand.

"You will kill me," he said.

"No," she said.

"You will free me."

"Yes."

"Then you will kill the law," he said.

"Yes."

"Then you will kill yourself," he said.

She did not answer. She held the knife. She held the seal. The seal was in her other hand. The seal was hot. It was warm. It felt alive.

"You are a fool," he said. "You are a good fool. But you are a fool."

"I know," she said.

"Love me," he said.

The words hung in the air. The words were light. The words were heavy. The wind did not move. The wind held its breath.

"I love you," she said.

She said it simply. She said it plainly. There was no music. There was no poetry. There was only truth.

Thomas smiled. It was a small smile. It was a sad smile. It was a final smile.

"Then go," he said. "Go and save me."

She turned. She walked away. Her steps were quick. Her steps were sure. She ran. She ran up the stairs. She ran into the hall. She ran into the room.

Aldric was still there. He sat at the desk. He waited. He knew. He had always known.

She placed the seal on the desk. She placed the knife on the desk.

"I cannot seal it," she said.

Aldric looked at the seal. He looked at the knife. He looked at her.

"You have made your choice," he said.

"Yes."

"It is a bad choice," he said.

"Yes."

"It will cost you your life," he said.

"Yes."

"It will cost you his life," he said.

"No," she said. "It will save him."

Aldric shook his head. He shook it slowly. He shook it sadly.

"You do not understand," he said. "The law is not a man. The law is a machine. You cannot stop a machine with a knife. You cannot stop a machine with a heart."

"Then I will break the machine," she said.

She picked up the seal. She held it tight. Her fingers were white. Her fingers were cold.

She walked to the fire. The fire was high. The fire was hot. The sparks flew up. The sparks flew out. They flew into the dark.

She held the seal over the flame. The glass began to glow. The glass began to crack. The glass began to melt.

She did not drop it. She held it. She held it until it burned her hand. She held it until the glass turned to liquid. She held it until the liquid turned to ash.

The seal was gone. The mark was gone. The proof was gone.

Aldric stood up. His face was pale. His face was gray.

"You have destroyed the record," he said.

"Yes."

"You have destroyed the case," he said.

"Yes."

"You have destroyed yourself," he said.

"Yes."

She looked at her hand. The skin was red. The skin was black. The skin was burnt. The pain was sharp. The pain was clear. The pain was real.

She walked to the door. She opened the door. She stepped out.

The yard was empty. Thomas was gone. The well was empty. The grass was dry. The wind was cold.

She stood in the wind. She stood in the dark. She held her burnt hand. She held her breath.

She waited.

The horses came. The hooves beat the ground. The hooves beat the stone. The sound was loud. The sound was hard.

The riders stopped. They were many. They were armed. They were angry.

The Captain rode to the front. He wore a red coat. The red was bright. The red was violent.

"Margaret Holloway," he said. "You have broken the law."

"Yes," she said.

"You have betrayed the King," he said.

"Yes."

"You have betrayed your master," he said.

"Yes."

"Will you surrender?" he asked.

"No," she said.

"Will you fight?" he asked.

"No," she said.

"Then what will you do?" he asked.

She looked at him. She looked into his eyes. His eyes were hard. His eyes were cold. They were like stones.

"I will wait," she said.

The Captain frowned. He did not understand. He did not care.

"Take her," he said.

The soldiers moved. They moved like shadows. They moved like ghosts. They surrounded her. They held their swords. The swords were sharp. The swords were bright.

Margaret did not move. She did not look at them. She looked at the sky. The sky was black. The stars were out. The stars were far. The stars were cold.

She thought of Thomas. She thought of his smile. She thought of his words. She thought of the well. She thought of the water.

She closed her eyes.

The swords came down.

The steel hit stone. The steel hit air. The steel hit nothing.

The soldiers stopped. They looked at her. They looked at each other. They looked confused. They looked afraid.

The Captain rode forward. He looked at Margaret. He looked at her hands. He looked at the ashes in her palm.

The ashes were gone. The ashes were dust. The dust was wind.

The wind blew. The dust flew. The dust disappeared.

Margaret was gone.

The yard was empty. The grass was dry. The wind was cold.

The Captain sat on his horse. He sat still. He sat silent. He looked at the well. He looked at the dark.

He did not know what had happened. He did not know what had been lost. He did not know what had been won.

He turned his horse. He rode away. The horses beat the ground. The sound faded. The sound died.

The yard was empty.

The wind blew. The grass moved. The moon shone. The moon was bright. The moon was cold. The moon watched. The moon remembered.

The seal was gone. The law was broken. The truth remained.

The truth was cold. The truth was hard. The truth was alone.

But it was there.

It was always there.