Chapter 14.5:
THREE DAYS LATER - KORN VILLAGE
Hexia and Sirenia arrived home in the quiet hours before dawn. The village was dark, peaceful, unaware that one of their protectors had just committed murder in another town.
They paused at Hexia's gate. Neither spoke for a long moment.
"Your parents will want to know what happened," Sirenia said finally.
"I know."
"Are you going to tell them?"
"Everything. They deserve truth." He looked at her. "And you? Your party will have questions."
"I'll tell them I'm staying here. For a while. Until—" She paused. "—until we figure out what this is. What we are."
"What if there's nothing to figure out? What if I'm too broken for this to work?"
"Then we'll be broken together." She squeezed his hand. "But I don't think you're as broken as you think. I think you're just hurt. And hurt can heal. Given time. Given patience. Given reasons to try."
"You make it sound simple."
"It's not. It'll be hard. There'll be days you push me away. Days you retreat into emptiness. Days you think you're not worth the effort." She stepped closer. "But I'm stubborn. Ridiculously stubborn. And I've already invested six months. I'm not walking away now."
"Even knowing what I'm capable of? What I did to Fred?"
"Especially knowing that. Because now there's no pretense. No illusions. I've seen the darkest parts of you and I'm still here. That's not naivety—that's choice."
Hexia stared at her. At this woman who'd somehow carved a space in his empty chest and refused to be dislodged. Who'd seen him torture a man and responded with understanding instead of horror. Who kept choosing him despite every reason not to.
"I don't deserve you."
"Probably not. But you're stuck with me anyway." She smiled—genuine, warm, the smile that first cracked his ice six months ago. "So what now?"
"Now I tell my parents I killed someone. Then I probably train until I can't think anymore. Then I'll sit with you under the stars and try to remember that I'm allowed to feel things."
"Sounds like a plan."
They walked into the house together. Marie and Jerkin were already awake—parents always knew when their children came home.
Marie took one look at Hexia's face and knew. Knew something fundamental had shifted. Knew her son had crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed.
"Tell me," she said simply.
So he did. Every detail. The tavern. The confrontation. The torture. The execution. Lhoralaine's desperate pleading. His rejection. The escape through the window.
He left nothing out. Gave them the whole truth, ugly and brutal and complete.
When he finished, silence filled the kitchen.
Then Jerkin spoke. "Did he deserve it?"
"Yes."
"Did you enjoy it?"
Hexia hesitated. "Part of me did. The dark part I keep locked away."
"And does that scare you?"
"Terrifies me."
Jerkin nodded slowly. "Good. The day it stops scaring you is the day you've actually become the monster you're afraid of being. As long as you question it—as long as it bothers you—you're still human. Damaged human, maybe. But human."
Marie circled the table, pulled Hexia into a fierce hug. "My son. My beautiful, broken, terrifying son. I wish I could take this pain from you. Wish I could fix what's hurt. But all I can do is love you through it. Is that enough?"
Hexia's arms came around her slowly. "It's more than I deserve."
"No. It's exactly what you deserve. Love isn't earned—it's given. And you have mine. Always. No matter what you do or who you become or how empty you feel. Always."
Something in Hexia's chest cracked. Not breaking—thawing. A tiny piece of ice melting under warmth he'd forgotten existed.
He didn't cry. Couldn't. The tears were frozen somewhere deep where emotions lived before the emptiness consumed them.
But he held his mother and let himself be held and that was enough.
ONE WEEK LATER
The week passed in strange normalcy. Training. Meals. Evening conversations. Hexia teaching Sirenia advanced techniques. The rhythms of life continuing despite the weight of what had happened.
But underneath—tension. Waiting.
Because Hexia knew it wasn't over. Knew that killing Fred would have consequences. Knew that someone, somewhere, would demand justice or revenge or retribution.
He just didn't know when.
On the seventh day, Sirenia's party arrived. They'd come looking for her—worried when she didn't return on schedule.
She met them at the village edge. "I'm staying."
"What? Sirenia, we have contracts—"
"Cancel them. Reassign them. I don't care." Her voice was firm. "I'm staying here. With him. For as long as he'll have me."
Her party member—a grizzled warrior named Garrett—studied her face. Saw the determination. The resolve. The fundamental shift in priorities.
"You love him."
"Yes."
"Even knowing what he did? We heard rumors. About Briarkeep. About Fred."
"Especially knowing what he did."
Garrett sighed. "You're sure? This isn't something you can undo. If you leave the party—"
"I'm sure. More sure than I've ever been about anything."
He nodded slowly. "Then I wish you happiness. Real happiness. The kind worth fighting for."
"Thank you."
They departed that afternoon. Sirenia watched them go with mixed feelings—relief, sadness, liberation, loss. She'd spent years with that party. They were family.
But Hexia was—
What was he?
More than family. More than friend. Something she didn't have words for yet. Something that terrified and exhilarated her in equal measure.
She found him training in his yard. Watched him move through forms with precision—beautiful and empty simultaneously.
"They're gone," she said.
He paused mid-strike. "Your party?"
"Yes. I told them I'm staying."
"You didn't have to do that."
"I wanted to. Because wherever you are—that's where I want to be."
Hexia lowered his sword. Turned to face her. "What are we doing, Sirenia? What is this?"
"Honestly? I don't know. But I know I care about you. Know I want to be here. Know that when I think about the future, you're in it. That's enough for now, isn't it?"
"What if it's not enough? What if I'm not enough?"
"Then we'll figure it out. Together. That's what people do when they—" She stopped. Almost said the word. Caught herself.
Too soon. Too much. Too—
"When they care about each other?" Hexia finished quietly. "Is that what we do?"
"Yes. We care. We try. We figure things out as we go. There's no manual for this. No perfect way to do it. We just—we just show up. That's all. Show up and try."
Hexia studied her face. Saw the sincerity. The hope. The terrifying vulnerability of someone opening themselves to potential pain.
"I'll hurt you," he warned. "Not intentionally. But I will. I'll retreat into emptiness. I'll push you away. I'll forget how to be human. And you'll suffer for it."
"Probably. And I'll hurt you too. I'll get frustrated. I'll demand more than you can give. I'll push too hard. We'll both hurt each other because that's what people do. But the question isn't whether we'll hurt each other—it's whether we'll stay anyway."
"And will you? Stay anyway?"
Sirenia stepped closer. Close enough that he could see the silver flecks in her blue eyes. Close enough that he could feel her warmth.
"I stayed after watching you torture someone. Stayed after hearing you reject your childhood love. Stayed after seeing the darkest parts of you. So yeah—I think I'll stay through the regular relationship problems too."
"This isn't regular relationship. This is—"
"Complicated? Messy? Built on trauma and broken people trying to figure out how to be whole again?" She smiled. "I know. That's what makes it real."
Hexia's hand came up—hesitant, slow—and cupped her cheek. "I'm scared."
"Me too. And honestly I'd rather be hurt with the truth, than be comforted with a lie."
"Good. Means we're doing something that matters."
He leaned forward. She met him halfway. Their lips touched—gentle, tentative, the first kiss of two people who'd forgotten how to be soft with each other but were trying anyway.
It wasn't perfect. Their noses bumped. Their timing was off. But it was real. Raw. Honest.
When they pulled apart, Hexia was smiling. Actually smiling. Small and fragile but genuine.
"That was—"
"Awkward?"
"I was going to say nice."
"Nice works too." Sirenia laughed. "We'll get better with practice."
"Is that a promise?"
"That's a guarantee."
They stood in the yard as the sun set, not quite holding each other but not quite separate either. Something in between. Something undefined. Something that didn't need definition yet.
And for the first time in years—since his first life, since that rooftop, since choosing to fall—Hexia felt something other than emptiness.
He felt possibility.
THREE WEEKS LATER - BRIARKEEP
Far from Korn Village, in the town where a head had rolled and blood had stained tavern floors, Lhoralaine existed.
Not lived. Existed.
She trained from dawn until her hands bled. Pushed herself until muscles tore and bones ached and exhaustion dragged her into dreamless sleep. Woke and did it again. And again. And again.
Her party watched with growing concern.
"Lhoralaine, you need to rest."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're destroying yourself."
"I said I'm fine."
But she wasn't. Everyone knew it. She'd stopped eating properly. Stopped sleeping more than a few hours. Stopped engaging in anything that wasn't training.
She was hollow. Empty. Going through the motions of existence while being fundamentally dead inside.
Just like Hexia had been. The irony wasn't lost on her.
On the fourteenth day, she overheard the guards talking.
"You hear about the execution order?"
"For who?"
"That swordsman. The one who killed Fred Butlix in the tavern. Hexia, they're calling him. The Swordsman of Rolling Heads."
Lhoralaine's entire body went rigid.
The guards unaware they'd just given Lhoralaine something she'd lost—purpose.
She stood in the training yard, sword in shaking hands, mind racing. Her thoughts spiraled into desperate hope and twisted logic. The kind of thinking that comes from someone so broken they can't see how broken they are.
She cleaned herself up. Headed for Lord Cruxxe's mansion.
She didn't know that Sirenia was Lord Cruxxe's daughter. Didn't know that the conversation she was about to have would not go remotely as planned. Didn't know she was walking into something that would shatter what little remained of her world.
She just knew she had to try. Had to do something. Had to prove that she wasn't the selfish girl who'd thrown away something precious.
Even if proving it meant fighting dirty. Even if it meant lying. Even if it meant destroying Sirenia to get to Hexia.
Because in her desperate, broken mind—that's what love looked like.
Possession. Control. Winning at any cost.
She'd learned from Fred after all.
The guards at Lord Cruxxe's mansion saw her approach. Exchanged glances. One nodded. They'd been told to admit her if she came—Lord Cruxxe wanted to hear what she had to say.
The doors opened. She entered.
And behind her, in Korn Village, Hexia sat under the stars with Sirenia, his hand in hers, completely unaware that in three days his peaceful existence would be shattered.
That guards would come. That chains would bind him. That he'd face trial for defending someone he loved.
That everything was about to become infinitely more complicated.
But for now—for this moment—he had peace.
Fragile. Temporary. Real.
And that was enough.
To be continued...
In the streets of Briarkeep, whispers spread:
The Swordsman of Rolling Heads is marked for execution. Lord Cruxxe's guards will bring him in chains. Justice will be served.
In Korn Village, peace remains. Hexia trains. Sirenia smiles. Life continues in blissful ignorance.
And between them—Lhoralaine, running toward Lord Cruxxe's mansion with desperate hope and twisted plans.
Three paths converging. Three fates colliding. Three weeks of silence ending.
The trial is coming.
The revelation is near.