Chapter 10.
What Hexia didn't know: the merchant caravan and the Silver Blades were also headed to Korn Village.
Standard procedure—fifteen days to rest, resupply, and allow the merchant to conduct business in the smaller settlements surrounding the main trade route. Fifteen days that would change everything.
Later that afternoon, as the caravan rolled into Korn Village, Sirenia saw him.
Hexia stood in his training yard, alone as always, moving through sword forms with sublime precision. Each strike perfect. Each step calculated. Like watching an art that somehow made you sad.
The afternoon sun caught his black hair, turned his crimson eyes into burning coals. His movements were economical, efficient, beautiful in their deadly grace.
Sirenia stopped walking. Stared.
Her party members noticed immediately.
"Uh, Sirenia? You okay?" Mira waved a hand in front of her face.
She couldn't answer. Couldn't look away.
Hexia must have felt her gaze. He glanced at her for one second—just one—his expression unchanging. Then he returned to his training as if she didn't exist.
That one second sealed it.
Something in Sirenia's chest tightened, then released. A decision made without conscious thought. A commitment forged in silence.
I'm going to reach you. I'm going to make you feel again. I don't care how long it takes. I don't care how hard you push me away. You saved my life. Now I'm going to save yours.
"Sirenia, seriously." Garrett's voice held concern.
"What's going on?"
She finally tore her gaze away. "Nothing. Just... thinking."
"About him?" Thomas jerked his thumb toward Hexia's yard.
"About how we have fifteen days here. And how I'm going to use every single one of them."
Roland groaned. "Oh no. I know that tone. That's your 'immovable object' tone."
"Good. Because that's exactly what I am."
DAY ONE
Sirenia positioned herself at the fence of Hexia's training yard at dawn. Watched him move through his forms. Said nothing. Just observed.
He ignored her completely. Didn't acknowledge her presence even once.
Two hours passed. She didn't move. Didn't speak. Just watched.
Finally, Hexia finished his training, sheathed his sword, and walked toward his house without a glance in her direction.
"Good morning!" Sirenia called out.
He paused at the door. Didn't turn. "Morning."
One word. Then he went inside.
Sirenia smiled. Progress. He'd acknowledged her existence.
DAY TWO
She appeared at his fence again. This time, she tried conversation.
"That was a beautiful form. The way you transitioned from high guard to low—very fluid."
Hexia continued training. "Thanks."
"Where did you learn it?"
"My father."
"He's a skilled swordsman?"
"Yes."
"Would he—"
"I'm training now. Sorry."
She fell silent. Watched him finish. He went inside without another word.
Still progress. Three words instead of one.
DAY THREE
Sirenia brought food. Homemade bread, cheese, dried fruit. Held it out as Hexia finished his morning forms.
"I thought you might be hungry."
He looked at the food, then at her. Something flickered in his eyes—confusion, maybe. Like he didn't understand why someone would do this.
"Thank you." He took it, politely. "I appreciate it."
But he didn't invite her to stay. Just nodded and went inside.
Sirenia watched him go, heart aching. Such simple kindness, and he acted like it was foreign. Alien. Something he didn't deserve.
What did they do to you? she thought. Who hurt you so badly that basic human connection feels wrong?
DAY FOUR
"Would you train with me?"
Hexia paused mid-swing. Looked at her. Really looked, for the first time since that moment on the road.
"Why?"
"Because I could learn from you. Because maybe it would be less lonely than training alone."
Something crossed his face. Too fast to read. "I train alone. Sorry."
He resumed his forms.
Sirenia didn't push. Just watched. And when he finished, she was still there.
"Same time tomorrow?" she asked.
He didn't answer. But he didn't say no.
DAYS FIVE THROUGH ELEVEN
Variations on the same theme. Sirenia appeared every morning. Watched. Brought food sometimes. Asked questions occasionally. Never pushed too hard. Never demanded more than he was willing to give.
And slowly—imperceptibly—something shifted.
Hexia started acknowledging her presence. Small nods. Brief eye contact. Answers that were three or four words instead of one.
His parents noticed. Marie watched from the kitchen window, hope blooming in her chest.
"Is that the girl from the Silver Blades?" she asked Jerkin.
"Every morning for a week now."
"He hasn't chased her away."
"No. He hasn't."
Marie pressed her hand to her mouth, tears in her eyes. "Do you think...?"
"Don't hope too much. But yes. I think maybe she's reaching him."
DAY TWELVE
Sirenia realized time was running out. Three days until they left. Three days to make a real connection.
She went to his house and knocked. Unusual—she'd always waited at the fence before.
The door opened.
Hexia stood there shirtless, sweaty from training. His body was lean muscle and old scars, each one a story of violence survived.
Sirenia's brain stopped working. Her face turned crimson. Her legs weakened.
Oh gods. Oh gods. He's... those abs... I can't... words... what are words...
"Are you okay? You look ill."
"I'm... you're... shirt... abs... I..."
Hexia's confusion deepened. "Do you need water? Should I get my mother?"
Sirenia tried to form a coherent thought. Failed. Her vision swam. The world tilted.
Sirenia fainted.
Hexia caught her before she hit the ground, his reflexes instant. He lifted her easily—she weighed nothing to someone with his strength—and carried her inside, laying her on the couch with surprising gentleness.
Marie appeared from the kitchen, took one look at the unconscious girl and her blushing son, and grinned knowingly.
"He has no idea, does he?"
Jerkin, reading in his chair, laughed quietly. "None whatsoever. This is delightful."
"Should we tell him?"
"Absolutely not. This is far too entertaining."
Sirenia woke slowly, her head pounding. She blinked, focused, and realized she was lying on a couch in an unfamiliar room. Hexia knelt beside her, now wearing a shirt, concern etched on his face.
"You fainted. I caught you. Are you feeling better?"
The memory came flooding back. Her face went red again.
"I'm fine! Perfectly fine! Just... Because it's the heat! Yes! That's definitely what that was!"
Marie's laughter drifted from the kitchen.
Hexia helped Sirenia sit up. "My mother is making tea. You should rest."
"I don't need to rest. I'm fine."
"You just fainted."
"Because of the heat!"
"You're very insistent about that."
"Because it's true!"
Was that almost a smile? Sirenia's heart skipped. It was gone too fast to be sure, but for just a moment, she thought she saw his lips twitch.
Progress.
DAY THIRTEEN
Sirenia had a plan. A very boldone, possibly insane plan. But time was running out, and subtlety wasn't working fast enough.
She marched to Hexia's house and, in front of gathering villagers, announced: "Hexia! I challenge you to a duel!"
Hexia stopped mid-swing. "A duel? Why?"
"Hand-to-hand combat! No swords! If I lose, you have to teach me swordplay for six months! But if I win, you have to accompany me and my party on our adventures!"
"I appreciate the offer, but I must decline. I'm not interested in—"
Sirenia launched herself at him.
She punched. He dodged, barely moving, just swaying aside.
She kicked. He sidestepped, hands in his pockets.
A flurry of attacks followed—and Hexia didn't fight back. He evaded, redirected, slipped around her strikes like water flowing around stones.
It wasn't a fight. It was a dance.
The villagers gathered, watching with growing fascination.
"Are they fighting or flirting?"
"Yes."
Sirenia grinned even though she wasn't landing hits. Because he was engaging. For the first time since she'd met him, he was present. Not going through motions. Actually here, in this moment, with her.
Then Hexia realized they'd attracted a crowd. Everyone was watching. Murmuring. Speculating.
Panic flared in his eyes—actual emotion breaking through the emptiness.
He grabbed Sirenia—gently, but firmly—and pulled her into his house, closing the door behind them.
Cutting off the crowd's view.
Inside, in the sudden quiet, he realized his mistake.
He was hugging Sirenia.
Her face pressed against his chest. His arms around her. Close. Too close. He could feel her heartbeat. Smell her hair. Feel her warmth.
Silence.
"Um. Hexia?"
He released her immediately, face turning bright red. "I—I'm sorry! I didn't mean—I was just—"
He couldn't look at her. Couldn't meet her eyes. The first real emotion she'd seen from him, and it was embarrassment.
Sirenia stared at him. At his red face. At his inability to make eye contact. At this deadly swordsman who could kill forty men without blinking, reduced to a blushing mess by an accidental hug.
She smiled—warm and genuine.
"You're cute when you're like that, you know."
Hexia's brain stopped working. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again. Failed.
Laughter erupted from deeper in the house.
Marie and Jerkin stood in the hallway, grinning like fools, not even trying to hide their eavesdropping.
"Oh, don't mind us! Please, continue!" Marie's eyes sparkled with mischief.
"Son! You hugged her! Without asking! That's very forward!" Jerkin's grin was enormous.
"I didn't mean to! It was an accident!"
"An accident? You pulled her into the house!"
"I was trying to escape the crowd!"
"By hugging a woman?!"
"It wasn't—I didn't—"
They were laughing. His parents, who'd watched him be cold and distant for years, were laughing with genuine joy.
And outside, the villagers heard the laughter. Heard actual happiness from Hexia's home for the first time in years.
They started cheering.
Someone played music. Someone brought ale. Food appeared. Torches lit.
An impromptu festival broke out in the village square.
Because Korn Village had watched this boy suffer in silence for years. Had seen him hollow himself out. Had witnessed him become a weapon instead of a person.
And now—finally—they were seeing him experience something other than emptiness.
Joy. Embarrassment. Connection. Life.
It was worth celebrating.
THAT EVENING
After the festival died down, Sirenia visited again. Hexia stepped outside voluntarily—the first time in three years he'd done so for someone who wasn't his parents.
They sat in the yard under stars.
"Thank you. For today."
"I should be apologizing. I pulled you into my house. I hugged you. Without permission."
"I'm not complaining."
Hexia was silent for a moment.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Yes."
"Why are you so sad?"
Hexia didn't answer for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. Distant.
"I chose peace. Over everything else. Over connections. Over risk. Over feelings. I thought if I could just be safe, if I could just avoid pain, I'd be okay."
"But you're not okay."
"No. But I'm peaceful. And that's what I wanted."
"Is it? Is that really what you want?"
Hexia couldn't answer.
Sirenia stood, looking at the stars. "I think you're lying to yourself. I think you chose peace because you were hurt. And I think you're still hurting. You just don't let anyone see it."
"Why do you care? You barely know me."
She turned to look at him. "Because when I look at you, I see someone who's drowning. And everyone else is just watching. But I notice. And I'm not going to walk away."
"You should. I'm not worth the effort."
"That's not your decision to make." She knelt in front of him, forcing eye contact. "You saved my life. You healed me. You didn't have to. You could have walked away. But you didn't. So now I'm returning the favor. I'm not giving up on you. Even if you've given up on yourself."
"Why?"
"Because someone needs to." She stood. "We're leaving tomorrow. But I'm coming back. Soon. And when I do, I'm dragging you out of this village. Out of this isolation. Whether you like it or not."
Hexia has not response.
"That's a promise. So don't get too comfortable in your peaceful prison. Because I'm breaking you out."
Then she left.
Hexia sat alone under the stars, her words echoing in his mind.
For the first time in years, something stirred in his chest. Not quite warmth. Not quite hope. But something.
A tiny crack in the ice.
He smiled—just a little, just for a moment.
But it was real.
DAY FIFTEEN - DEPARTURE
The Silver Blades prepared to leave with the merchant caravan. Sirenia stood at the village gate, her pack ready, her party waiting.
She looked back at Hexia's house. No sign of him. He was probably training, deliberately avoiding goodbyes.
"Ready?" Garrett asked.
"No. But we have to go." She adjusted her pack. "I'll be back in a few weeks. Our route brings us through this region regularly."
"You're serious about him."
"Completely."
Mira shook her head, grinning. "You know he's emotionally unavailable, probably traumatized, and can kill people without feeling anything, right?"
"I know."
"And you're still going to try to reach him?"
"I'm not trying. I'm succeeding. It'll just take time."
Thomas whistled. "That's the most confident thing, I've ever heard you say."
"Because I know I'm right." She looked back one more time. "He saved me. Now I'm going to save him. That's how this works."
They left.
What Sirenia didn't see: Hexia standing at his window, watching them go. His expression was unreadable. But his hand pressed against the glass. And in his chest, that tiny crack widened.
Just a fraction. Just enough.
Marie appeared beside him. "She'll be back."
"I know."
"Are you ready for that?"
"No."
"But you want her to come back anyway."
Hexia didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Because the truth was complicated and terrifying and impossible.
Yes. He wanted her to come back.
And that terrified him more than any battle ever had.
To be continued..