The room was vast, a circular chamber with high stone walls that seemed to stretch endlessly upward. Torches mounted along the walls flickered with an eerie light, casting long shadows across the crowd gathered in the bleachers that surrounded the central floor. At the heart of the room stood Changra, bound to a tall iron pole by glowing golden chains that pulsed faintly with magic.
The crowd murmured, their voices a mix of anger, fear, and curiosity. Changra's crimson eye glowed faintly, a stark contrast to his confused and weary expression. He scanned the faces of those seated in the bleachers, their gazes heavy with judgment. His chest tightened under the weight of their stares.
"This is absurd," he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling. He pulled weakly against the chains, but they held firm, their runes glowing brighter as he struggled.
At the far end of the room, five figures sat on an elevated platform, their presence commanding and undeniable. The guild bosses. Each carried an aura of authority, their gazes fixed on Changra with varying degrees of suspicion and curiosity.
Eldric Stormrider leaned forward, his wild, silver mane catching the torchlight. His green eyes bore into Changra with an intensity that made his breath hitch. "Do you have any idea what you are, boy?" he said, his voice a low rumble that carried easily over the murmurs of the crowd.
Changra shook his head, his voice cracking as he replied. "I don't… I don't even know who I am."
"Convenient," Garrick Ironfist said, his gruff voice dripping with skepticism. The dwarf crossed his massive arms over his plate-armored chest, the runes on his armor glinting faintly. "How very convenient that you 'don't remember.' Do you expect us to believe that?"
"I'm telling the truth," Changra insisted, his voice rising with desperation. "I don't know what's happening. I don't know why I'm here or why I—" He stopped, his gaze dropping as frustration clawed at his chest. "I don't know anything."
Lady Seraphina Nightshade leaned back in her chair, her midnight-blue robes shimmering as she moved. Her dark eyes narrowed, her tone cutting. "Yet you wield power that none of us can ignore. The kind of power that brings death and destruction in its wake."
"That's not my fault!" Changra's voice cracked as he looked up, his blue eye wide with desperation while the crimson one glinted faintly. "I don't even understand what's happening to me. Please, you have to believe me."
The murmurs of the crowd grew louder, their voices a mix of doubt and derision. Changra's shoulders sagged under the weight of their judgment. His gaze darted to the guild bosses, searching for any sign of sympathy.
Elara Windwhisper's green eyes met his, her expression calm but guarded. She stepped forward, her voice cutting through the noise. "I think he's telling the truth," she said, her words firm. "There's confusion in his eyes, not malice."
The crowd quieted slightly, turning their attention to Elara. Garrick snorted, his brow furrowing. "You're too trusting, Windwhisper. That eye of his," he pointed a calloused finger toward Changra, "says otherwise."
Aetterus Voss, the slender illusionist with his perpetual smirk, leaned back in his chair, one hand idly playing with a trinket on his belt. "Whether he's lying or not, he's dangerous," Aetterus said, his voice light and playful despite the tension. "And dangerous things are best kept in cages."
Elara shot him a sharp look. "He's a person, not a thing."
"Person or not, he's still a risk," Eldric rumbled, his gaze fixed on Changra. "You brought chaos with you, boy. People have died. Can you deny that?"
Changra flinched, his jaw tightening. "I… I don't remember," he said softly. "But if I hurt anyone, I swear I didn't mean to."
"Swearing doesn't mean much when people are dead," Lady Seraphina said coldly. She turned her gaze to Elara, her tone laced with challenge. "You're vouching for him, Windwhisper. Are you prepared to take responsibility if you're wrong?"
Elara didn't hesitate. "I am."
Her words sent a ripple through the crowd, murmurs of surprise and disapproval spreading like wildfire. Changra looked at her, his voice barely audible. "Why… Why are you helping me?"
Elara's gaze softened slightly, though her expression remained composed. "Because I see someone lost and scared," she said simply. "Not a monster."
The room fell silent, the tension thick in the air. Eldric leaned back in his chair, his piercing gaze never leaving Changra. "We'll see about that."
The murmurs of the crowd grew louder, a cacophony of fear, doubt, and judgment. Changra scanned the bleachers, his gaze landing on a familiar pair of faces. Thorne, his rugged features twisted with frustration, sat next to Aria, who looked pale and tense, her eyes fixed on him with a mix of worry and disbelief.
Thorne shot to his feet, his voice cutting through the noise. "This is a load of hogwash!" he shouted, his words unpolished but earnest. "Changra ain't done nothin' wrong! Ya hear me? Nothin'! He's a good guy!"
The room went silent, all eyes turning to him. Aetterus Voss chuckled softly, his smirk widening as he waved a hand dismissively. "Sit down, boy," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "This isn't the time for emotional outbursts."
Thorne's fists clenched, his body trembling with barely contained anger. "Ya ain't got no proof he did anything bad!" he retorted, his words tumbling over each other. "He saved us more times than I can count!"
"Thorne," Aria whispered sharply, tugging at his arm. "Don't make it worse."
But Thorne ignored her, his eyes blazing as he glared at Aetterus. "He's my friend," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "And I won't let ya talk about him like he's some kinda monster."
Eldric Stormrider's voice rumbled through the chamber, low and commanding. "Enough."
The single word silenced the room, Thorne sinking reluctantly back into his seat as Eldric stood. The towering man's green eyes burned with an intensity that seemed to pierce through to the soul. He stepped forward, his heavy boots echoing against the stone floor as he approached the central platform.
"Do you want proof?" Eldric said, his voice cold and steady. His gaze shifted to Changra, pinning him in place. "I'll give you proof."
Changra flinched under the weight of his words, his body tensing against the chains that bound him. Eldric gestured to the crowd, his voice rising. "Tessa. Callen. Liora. Do those names mean anything to you?"
The names hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Changra's breath hitched, his blue eye widening as he struggled to grasp at the fragments of memory that refused to surface. "I… I don't…" he stammered, his voice trembling. "I don't remember."
Eldric's expression hardened, his voice sharp. "Then let me remind you. They're dead. Three lives lost during your mission. Three people who trusted you, fought alongside you, and didn't make it back."
A gasp rippled through the crowd, whispers spreading like wildfire. Aria's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears as she looked at Changra, her heart breaking for him. Thorne slumped in his seat, his face pale as he absorbed Eldric's words.
"I didn't…" Changra began, his voice cracking. "I don't remember them. I don't even know who I am."
Eldric's gaze bore into him, unyielding. "That doesn't change the fact that they're gone," he said. "And you were at the center of it. Whether you meant it or not, your actions have consequences."
The room was silent, the weight of Eldric's words settling over everyone like a shroud. Changra's head dropped, his shoulders sagging as the reality of his situation pressed down on him. The chains around his wrists pulsed faintly, their golden light dimming as if reflecting his despair.
Elara stepped forward, her voice breaking the tension. "That doesn't mean he's guilty," she said firmly. "We've all lost people in this fight. And we've all made mistakes. Changra deserves a chance to prove himself."
Eldric turned to her, his expression unreadable. "And if he's too dangerous to control?" he asked, his voice low. "What then?"
Elara didn't falter, her green eyes meeting his with quiet determination. "Then it's our job to make sure he's not."
The room was silent, the weight of Eldric's words still hanging in the air. Changra sat slumped against the pole, his chains glowing faintly as he tried to make sense of everything. The names Eldric had spoken echoed in his mind—Tessa, Callen, Liora—but they were hollow, void of meaning. He clenched his fists, his breathing uneven.
From his place on the platform, Aetterus Voss leaned forward, his mischievous smirk widening. "Well, isn't this tragic," he said, his tone light but cutting. "A boy with no memories, no answers, and no idea of what he's capable of. How convenient."
Elara glared at him, her voice sharp. "If you have something to say, Voss, say it."
"Oh, I plan to," Aetterus replied, standing gracefully and pulling a small, wrapped object from his belt. The air in the room shifted, a faint tension spreading as the crowd leaned forward in anticipation. "I think it's time we reminded him of what he's forgotten."
Changra's gaze snapped to the object in Aetterus's hand, his chest tightening. Even before the cloth fell away, he knew what it was. He didn't know how he knew—he just did.
The Crimson Dagger.
The moment the blade was revealed, the room seemed to darken. The dagger's glow pulsed faintly, its crimson light casting eerie shadows on the walls. A low hum filled the chamber, resonating deep within Changra's chest. His body tensed, the golden chains reacting to the dagger's presence with a faint crackle of energy.
"This little trinket," Aetterus said, holding the dagger aloft, "is the key to everything, isn't it? The power you wield. The destruction you've caused. It all comes back to this."
"Put it away," Elara said sharply, stepping forward. "You don't know what you're dealing with."
"On the contrary," Aetterus replied, his smirk widening. "I know exactly what I'm dealing with. And so does he."
He turned to Changra, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. "Don't you, boy?"
Changra's breath hitched as the hum grew louder, the dagger's glow intensifying. His vision blurred, the edges of the room darkening as the crimson light consumed his thoughts. The chains around his wrists pulsed erratically, their golden runes flickering like dying embers.
The first memory hit him like a hammer.
Blood. His hands slick with it, trembling as he stood over two lifeless bodies. A knife lay at his feet, its blade glinting faintly in the dim light. His mother's hands, his father's words—they echoed in his mind, sharp and unrelenting.
Another memory. Laughter, cruel and mocking, as children surrounded him, their taunts cutting deeper than any blade. The words "murderer" and "monster" rang out, their voices blurring into a cacophony of pain.
More memories flooded in, each one sharper and more vivid than the last. The faces of people he had met in Elakia—Jane's tear-streaked eyes, Merrick's steady gaze, Thorne's crooked grin, Aria's quiet determination. The battles, the bloodshed, the losses.
Callen's smile. Liora's laugh.
But there was a hole. A gap where something—or someone—should have been. He didn't notice it at first, the torrent of memories overwhelming him. But as the flood began to subside, the absence lingered, like a missing piece in a shattered puzzle.
The pain was unbearable. Changra screamed, the sound raw and primal, silencing the murmurs of the crowd. His body convulsed against the chains, his crimson eye glowing brighter as the memories burned their way into his mind.
When the screaming stopped, the silence was deafening. Changra slumped against the pole, his breathing ragged, his body trembling. The room was still, every eye fixed on him as they waited for him to speak.
Changra's head lifted slowly, his gaze unfocused as he stared into the distance. His voice was hoarse, barely audible, but the words carried through the chamber like a thunderclap.
"I want to go home."