**Chapter 4: The Day of Reckoning**

The villagers' cheers and jeers faded into the background as Arlott and Arthur stood at the stake, the flames licking at their feet. The air was thick with the smell of woodsmoke and fear. Arlott's heart was heavy with despair, his mind reeling with the thought of what was to come. As the fire crackled to life, Arlott opened his eyes to find Arthur's gaze locked on his. For a moment, they just stared at each other, their eyes conveying a world of emotions. The villagers' shouts and catcalls receded into the distance as the two boys focused on each other. But as the flames grew higher, Arlott realized that the fire seemed to have no effect on them. They stood there, unharmed, as the villagers watched in confusion and horror. The village elder, his face twisted in a snarl, took a step forward, his eyes blazing with fury. "This is a sign of the devil's work!" he cried, his voice rising above the din of the crowd. "We must make sure they are properly punished!" The villagers closed in, their faces contorted with fear and hatred. But Arlott and Arthur didn't flinch. They stood there, frozen in time, as the flames danced around them. It was then that Arlott understood the true horror of their situation. The fire might not harm them physically, but the emotional torture of being forced to witness each other's suffering was a different story altogether. Arthur's eyes began to well up with tears as he gazed at Arlott, his face pale with fear. Arlott felt a pang of despair, his heart heavy with the knowledge that he would have to watch the boy he loved burn. The villagers, sensing their distress, began to taunt them, their voices rising in a cacophony of cruelty. But Arlott and Arthur tuned them out, their focus solely on each other. As the flames grew higher, Arlott felt a sense of detachment wash over him. He was numb, his emotions frozen in time. He couldn't look away from Arthur's face, his eyes drinking in the sight of the boy he loved. Arthur's tears began to fall, streaming down his face as he gazed at Arlott. Arlott's own eyes began to sting, but he refused to look away. He was determined to be strong, to be there for Arthur in his final moments. But as the fire crackled and spat, Arlott felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. He was being torn apart, his very soul ripped from his body. He couldn't bear the thought of living without Arthur, of breathing without the boy's presence by his side. The villagers, sensing their distress, began to jeer and catcall, their voices rising in a frenzy of cruelty. But Arlott and Arthur didn't hear them. They were lost in their own world, a world of love and despair, as they faced the ultimate test of their devotion. As the flames seemed to grow higher, Arlott felt himself being pulled towards Arthur, his heart beating as one with the boy's. They were two souls, bound together by their love, and nothing could ever tear them apart. Not even death.