In the morning I was tied to a huge wooden wheel. It was like nothing I had ever seen. I could feel its spikes on my back. I think the idea was to grind me into the earth like flour, but I didn't get to find out because as soon as it started to turn, it exploded behind me.
The crowd had pressed close to see my execution. Many were killed by the broken wheel, yet I stood unscathed, my ropes in tatters at my feet.
My personal conception of Hell comes from this moment. I alone was standing in a circle of ruins and dead and wounded people. Beyond this screaming plane I saw the faces of those who were out of range, and this was the greatest horror, for I saw what they saw: Saint Catherine standing tall in a mass of carnage. The terrible Queen of a wrathful new God. In their faces I saw their fear, and I saw, rooting deep into their souls, a new belief.
"No!" I wept.
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