Ráild's wings had caught fire. He hadn't realized but he had stepped in the spells, which were crafted for people like him, for people who had betrayed the kingdom, who had deceived the king himself.
He screamed with pain, with so much agony that he couldn't bear it. "Help me! Help me!" he shouted, hoping that someone would hear him and come to help. But people gathered around him at a distance and only watched. They knew what those spells were meant for and no one wanted to get into something as serious as this.
Ráild dropped to the ground and started rolling. But the fire didn't douse. The fae, who was once a part of the kingdom's army, who had his house in this land, who thought he would come back to his land, was now on the ground, burning in the inferno of hell. He screamed and screamed, but there was no assistance from anyone. Even the soul inside him, who he had brought this far to be with his queen, didn't help him.
