Chapter 17:
KORN VILLAGE - THREE DAYS LATER
While chaos unfolded in Briarkeep, Hexia sat in his yard under the stars, blissfully unaware that his life was about to become exponentially more complicated.
The past three weeks had been... better.
Since the tavern incident, since Fred's execution, since Lhoralaine's desperate confession and his rejection of it, he'd been healing. Slowly. Painfully. With setbacks and bad days. But healing nonetheless.
He smiled more now. Not often—he was still fundamentally broken in ways that would take years to repair. But the smiles he gave were real. Small. Genuine. Rare. But real.
Not the fake, performative smiles he'd given for years. Not the masks he'd worn to keep people at arm's length. Just... real expressions of genuine emotion.
He talked to the villagers now, actually engaged with them, asked about their lives, showed interest instead of just hollow politeness. Old Mrs. Chen had nearly fainted when he'd stopped to chat about her grandchildren. Young Thomas had stammered for five minutes when Hexia had complimented his improved swordsmanship.
He trained with his father again, not in silence but with conversation, with laughter, with the warmth of a relationship slowly rebuilding brick by brick.
He spent time with his mother, helped her cook, told her about Sirenia (and blushed when Marie teased him about "finally bringing a girl home"), listened to her stories about when he was younger.
He'd been living. Not just surviving. Not just existing in the hollow space between breaths. Actually living.
And most importantly, he'd been trying to forgive himself. For his suicide in his past life. For the years of self-imposed isolation. For the coldness. For the emptiness. For all the ways he'd failed to be human.
It was hard. God, it was so hard. The guilt sat in his chest like a stone, heavy and unyielding. But he was trying.
One evening, he sat in the yard with his parents under the stars. The same spot where he used to train with Lhoralaine and Fred. But now it was different. Reclaimed. Made new by the absence of those painful memories.
"You seem happier, sweetheart. More... present," Marie said softly, her hand resting on Jerkin's arm.
Hexia smiled slightly, looking up at the constellation patterns he'd learned as a child. "I feel... lighter. Like I've been carrying something heavy for years and I'm finally putting it down. Slowly. Piece by piece."
"That's good, son. That's very good," Jerkin said, his deep voice warm with pride.
"Is it because of Sirenia?" Marie asked gently, a knowing smile on her face.
A blush crept up Hexia's neck, warming his cheeks. Even after three weeks, talking about his feelings still felt foreign, uncomfortable. "Partly. She's... she's shown me that I don't have to be empty to be safe. That I can feel things and not fall apart. That I'm not as broken as I thought."
"You were never broken, son. Just hurt. There's a difference."
"I'm starting to see that." He paused, considering his words. "I used to think being broken meant I was unfixable. But Sirenia keeps telling me that hurt people can heal. That broken things can be mended. I'm starting to believe her."
Marie's voice softened further, gentle as silk. "And what about Lhoralaine?"
Hexia took a breath, exhaling slowly. This was harder to talk about. "I've been thinking about that. A lot. And I think... I think I want to try. To be friends again. Eventually. Not now—it's too soon. Too raw. The wounds are still open. But... someday. If she's willing to work on herself. If she can let go of the idea that we're supposed to be together romantically. If she can accept that we've both changed into different people than we were."
"That's very mature of you."
"I don't know if it's mature or just... tired." He smiled sadly. "Tired of holding grudges. Tired of letting the past define me. Tired of being the person who pushes everyone away because he's afraid of being hurt again."
"Either way, son—it's growth. And that's what matters."
They sat in comfortable silence, the kind that only comes with deep familiarity and love. The stars wheeled overhead. Crickets chirped their evening songs. The peace of a quiet evening in a small village wrapped around them like a blanket.
Maybe this is it, Hexia thought, allowing himself a moment of contentment. Maybe this is what peace actually feels like. Not emptiness. Not isolation. But connection. Warmth. Being okay with being alive.
Maybe—
Then the guards arrived.
THE ARREST ARIVES.
Four guards on horseback appeared at the gate, their mounts' hooves clattering on the packed earth. They wore the colors of Briarkeep—blue and silver tabards over polished armor. Their weapons were sheathed but visible. Their faces were grim but apologetic.
The peaceful evening shattered like glass.
The lead guard dismounted with practiced ease and approached, his expression carefully neutral. "Are you Hexia, son of Jerkin and Marie?"
Hexia stood slowly, his parents rising beside him. His hand didn't go to his sword—yet. But the guard noticed how his posture shifted, becoming more balanced, ready. "Yes. I am."
"By order of Lord Cruxxe of Briarkeep, you are under arrest for the murder of Fred Butlix. You will accompany us back to Briarkeep to stand trial. The trial will be held in three days."
Marie stepped forward, her face flushing with anger. "Murder?! It was self-defense! Fred attacked him! Hexia was protecting—"
The guard captain raised a hand, his voice remaining respectful but firm. "Ma'am, please. I'm just following orders. The trial will determine guilt or innocence. Your son will have a chance to defend himself. But the law is the law."
Jerkin's hand went to his sword, his warrior's instincts flaring. "And if we refuse?"
"Then we have authorization to use force." The guard captain met Jerkin's eyes steadily. "But I'd rather not. Your son has a reputation, sir. I've heard the stories. The 'swordsman of rolling heads,' the protector of Korn Village. I'd rather not test whether the legends are true."
He looked at Hexia directly, man to man. "Please. Come peacefully. Make this easier for everyone."
Hexia looked at his parents, at their worried faces, at the fear in their eyes. He saw Marie's hands trembling, saw Jerkin's jaw clenched tight. They would fight for him. They would die for him if it came to that.
He couldn't let that happen.
He smiled—small, sad, resigned. "It's okay. I'll go."
"Hexia, no—"
"Mom." He placed his hand over hers, squeezing gently. "It's fine. I killed Fred. That's a fact. Whether it was justified or not... that's for the trial to decide. And I'll face it. I won't run. I won't hide. I'm done hiding from consequences."
"Son—"
"Dad. I'll be okay. I promise." He looked at both of them, his crimson eyes soft with affection. "And... if I'm not? If the worst happens? Then at least I got these last three weeks. These last three weeks of feeling alive. Of feeling human. That's more than I had before. That's more than I thought I'd ever have again."
Marie's tears streamed down her face, glistening in the starlight. "Don't talk like that! You're coming home! You hear me?! You're coming home!"
Hexia hugged his mother tight, feeling her shake with sobs against his chest. Then he embraced his father, feeling Jerkin's strong arms wrap around him with desperate strength.
"Tell Sirenia... tell her I'm sorry. That I wish we'd had more time. That she made me happy. Really, truly happy." His voice caught slightly. "Tell her... tell her thank you. For everything."
He turned to the guards, held out his wrists without resistance. "I'm ready."
The guard captain looked impressed and sad simultaneously. He knew Hexia's reputation. He knew about the swordsman of rolling heads, the protector of Korn Village, the man who'd slaughtered a lot of bandits and monsters without breaking a sweat.
And this calm acceptance, this dignity—this was the mark of someone who'd already made peace with death.
They bound Hexia's wrists with rope, not tightly—more symbolic than functional. Everyone present knew that if Hexia wanted to escape, nothing short of an army could stop him. The rope was a formality, a gesture toward proper procedure.
But he didn't want to escape.
He was tired of running. Tired of hiding. Tired of letting fear make his decisions.
So he went. Peacefully. Willingly. Accepting whatever fate awaited him in Briarkeep.
As they rode away, the entire village came out to watch. Not to jeer. Not to celebrate. But to mourn.
They lined the streets in silence—men, women, children. Old Mrs. Chen wept openly. Young Thomas stood rigid, trying not to cry. The village elder bowed his head in respect.
They were watching their protector, their hero, be taken away. Possibly to his death.
And there was nothing they could do about it.
Marie collapsed against Jerkin, her sobs echoing through the quiet street. Jerkin held her, his own tears falling silently, his face carved from stone and grief.
"He'll come back," Jerkin said, his voice thick. "He's strong. He'll come back."
But he didn't sound convinced.
And as the guards and their prisoner disappeared into the darkness, heading toward Briarkeep and an uncertain fate, Korn Village held its breath.
THE JOURNEY
Three days on horseback. Three days of silence punctuated by the steady rhythm of hooves on packed earth.
Hexia rode with his hands bound, sitting straight in the saddle despite the rope. The guards had expected him to be sullen, angry, resistant. Instead, he was calm. Almost serene.
It unnerved them.
"You're taking this well," the guard captain said on the second day, riding alongside Hexia.
"What choice do I have?" Hexia's voice was flat, empty of emotion. "Fighting would accomplish nothing. Running would make things worse. So I accept what comes."
"That's very... zen of you."
Hexia smiled slightly—a ghost of expression. "I've had practice accepting things I can't change. A lifetime of practice, actually."
The guard captain studied him for a moment. "The stories about you. Are they true?"
"Which stories?"
"That you killed thirty-six bandits by yourself on one occasion. That you can heal without chanting. That your eyes turn even colder right before you strike, and that's the last thing your enemies see."
Hexia was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice carried weight. "The bandits were threatening innocent people. They were going to kill them. Worse. I did what needed to be done."
"And Fred Butlix?"
"Fred was threatening someone I care about. Someone who matters. He'd already hurt another person I used to care about for years. He'd manipulated, gaslit, and abused. He deserved what he got."
"That's not for you to decide."
"No. It's not. That's why I'm here, isn't it? To let others decide."
The guard captain nodded slowly. "You're different from what I expected. The stories make you sound like a monster. Cold. Empty. Ruthless."
"I am those things. Sometimes. When I need to be." Hexia looked at him directly. "But I'm also human. I care about people. I want to protect them. And sometimes protecting people means being a monster to other monsters."
"That's a dangerous philosophy."
"Yes. It is. But it's mine."
They rode in silence after that, each lost in their own thoughts.
BRIARKEEP - THE CELL
They arrived at Briarkeep on the evening of the third day. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of amber and crimson that reminded Hexia of blood.
The guards led him through the town to the lord's estate. People stopped to stare as they passed—word had spread fast. The murderer. The protector. The swordsman of rolling heads.
He looked so young. So beautiful. Like an angel.
But those eyes. Those crimson eyes held nothing warm.
They placed him in a cell—well-maintained, clean, but still a cage. The door locked with a heavy clang that echoed through the stone corridor.
"Three days," the guard captain said through the bars. "The trial is in three days. Get some rest."
"Thank you. For treating me with respect during the journey."
The guard nodded and departed, leaving Hexia alone in the cell.
He sat on the simple bed, looked at his bound hands, and waited.
Three days until the trial. Three days until the duel he knew nothing about. Three days until his fate was decided by people he'd never met.
This is fine, he thought with dark humor. I've been waiting to die since my first life anyway. If it happens now... at least Sirenia will remember me fondly. At least my parents got to see me smile again before the end. At least I got those three weeks.
At least I got to feel human one last time.
He lay back on the bed, stared at the ceiling, and let the exhaustion of three days' travel finally claim him.
His dreams were troubled—flashes of Fred's head rolling, of Lhoralaine's desperate face, of Sirenia's fierce eyes, of his parents' tears.
And underneath it all, a voice whispering:
This isn't over. Your story doesn't end here. There's more. So much more. On the trial. You. Shall. See. And Accept.
Whether you want it or not.
ELSEWHERE - SIRENIA'S FURY
Sirenia burst into her father's study the next morning without knocking, her face flushed with fury and exertion.
"You arrested him?! You sent guards to Korn Village and arrested Hexia?!"
Lord Cruxxe looked up from his paperwork, unsurprised by her entrance. "Good morning to you too, daughter. And yes. I had to. The law is the law."
"The law?! He was defending people! Fred started it all!"
"And that's what the trial will determine. Sirenia, you know I can't just ignore a murder that happened in my town. Even if the victim was... less than innocent."
"Less than innocent?! Fred was a manipulative monster who destroyed Lhoralaine for years!"
"I know. Lhoralaine told me everything. And it will be taken into account at the trial." He set down his quill, looked at his daughter with tired eyes. "But I still have to follow procedure. I can't be seen as playing favorites just because you're involved with the accused."
"I'm not just 'involved'—I love him!"
"I know. And that's exactly why I have to be extra careful. If I pardon him without a trial, people will say I'm corrupt. That I'm letting my daughter's feelings influence my judgment. Is that what you want?"
Sirenia deflated slightly, the fight draining out of her. "No. I just... I can't lose him. Not now. Not after we finally found each other."
Lord Cruxxe's expression softened. He stood, walked around his desk, and pulled his daughter into a hug. "You won't lose him. The trial will prove his innocence. And then... then you'll have all the time in the world."
"Promise?"
"I promise to ensure he gets a fair trial. That's all I can guarantee."
Sirenia pulled back, wiped her eyes, and nodded. "That's enough. That has to be enough."
"Now." Lord Cruxxe's expression became serious. "About this duel with Lhoralaine..."
"I'll win."
"Sirenia—"
"I'll win, Dad. Because I have to. Because Hexia deserves someone who'll fight for him. Who won't give up. Who won't let fear or doubt or guilt stop them." Her eyes blazed with determination. "And that's me. Not her. Me."
Lord Cruxxe sighed. "Just... try not to kill each other. Please? I don't want to explain to Hexia that his potential future partner died in a duel over him."
"No promises."
She left before he could respond, her mind already racing through strategies and techniques for the coming duel.
Three days. She had three days to prepare to prove herself. To show Hexia—and the world—that she was worthy of standing beside him.
And she would not fail.
THE FINAL NIGHT
On the night before the trial, Hexia sat alone in his cell, unable to sleep.
Tomorrow would determine his fate. Tomorrow the truth about Fred would be revealed—or buried under politics and corruption. Tomorrow two women who cared about him would fight each other for the right to stand beside him.
And he hadn't asked for any of it.
I just wanted peace, he thought, staring at the moonlight filtering through the small window. I just wanted to be left alone. To heal quietly. To exist without drama or pain or complications.
But life doesn't work that way, does it? People complicate things. Feelings complicate things. Caring about others means opening yourself to pain.
And I'm so tired of pain.
He looked at his hands—the same hands that had killed Fred, that had slaughtered bandits, that had healed Sirenia, that had pushed Lhoralaine away.
What am I? Hero or monster? Protector or murderer? Human or weapon?
Maybe I'm all of them. Maybe I'm none of them. Maybe I'm just... me. Broken. Healing. Trying.
And maybe that's enough.
A sound outside his cell made him look up. Footsteps. Quiet. Deliberate.
A figure appeared in the shadows beyond the bars.
"Hello, Hexia."
He recognized that voice immediately.
"Lhoralaine."
She stepped into the moonlight, her face pale but determined. Her black eyes held something he couldn't quite read—desperation mixed with hope mixed with fear.
"How did you—"
"I bribed the guards. They're looking the other way for ten minutes." She gripped the bars, her knuckles white. "I needed to see you. Before the trial. Before everything changes."
"Lhoralaine—"
"Just listen. Please. Just... let me say this." She took a shaky breath. "I've spent three weeks training. Thinking. Replaying everything in my mind. And I realized something."
She met his eyes directly.
"You were right. About everything. I was using you as an escape from Fred. As a backup plan. As a safe option. And that wasn't fair to you. You deserved better than to be someone's second choice."
Hexia's expression softened slightly. "Lhoralaine—"
"I'm not finished. Tomorrow there's a duel. Between me and Sirenia. Your father—Lord Cruxxe—he's her father, by the way, surprise—he arranged it. Winner gets his support in testifying for you. Winner gets to... to pursue you. If you want."
"I don't want anyone fighting over me like I'm a prize."
"I know. But we're doing it anyway. Because we're both stubborn. And we both care about you." She smiled sadly. "And I'm probably going to lose. Sirenia's been training with you for six months. She's strong. She's skilled. She's... she's everything I'm not."
"That's not true—"
"It is. And that's okay." Her voice cracked. "But I wanted you to know—whatever happens tomorrow, whatever the trial decides, whatever the duel determines—I'm deeply sorry. For everything. For choosing Fred. For not seeing what he was. For hurting you. For taking so long to realize what I'd lost."
Tears streamed down her face, glistening in the moonlight.
"And I'm grateful. That you gave me those years of friendship. That you tried to warn me. That you let me go when I made my choice. That you're the kind of person who can kill monsters but still has compassion for broken people like me."
"You're not broken. You're hurt. There's a difference."
"That's what Sirenia said too." She laughed wetly. "You two are perfect for each other. You both see the best in damaged people."
"Lhoralaine—"
"I'm going now. Before the guards notice I've been here too long. I just... I needed you to know. Whatever happens tomorrow—I'll accept it. If you choose Sirenia, I'll support it. If you choose neither of us, I'll respect it. If you choose death..." Her voice broke. "...I'll mourn you."
She stepped back into the shadows.
"Lhoralaine. Wait."
She paused, turned back.
"Thank you. For saying that. And for what it's worth... I think you'll be okay. Eventually. Not now. But someday. When you've healed. When you've learned who you are without someone else defining you."
"I hope you're right."
"So do I."
She disappeared into the darkness, leaving Hexia alone with his thoughts once more.
Tomorrow. Everything would change tomorrow.
For better or worse, his fate would be decided.
And for the first time in a long time, he wasn't sure if he wanted to survive.
To be continued...
The days of bliss ended. The trial approaches. Two women prepare to fight. One man waits in chains.
And somewhere in the shadows, forces are moving. Plans are forming. The execution of Fred Butlix set events in motion that none of them could have predicted.