The room was heavy with tension, the murmurs of the crowd fading into uneasy silence. Changra sat slumped against the iron pole, his head bowed, his arms limp at his sides. The golden chains binding him pulsed faintly, their magic still active, but it was as though the fight had left him entirely.
He didn't hear the whispers, the questions, the accusatory stares. All he could hear were the voices in his mind—sharp, cruel, relentless.
"You're worthless."
"Why were you even born?"
"You'll never be anything but a mistake."
The words of his parents echoed over and over, slicing through his thoughts like knives. He squeezed his eyes shut, his breath shallow and uneven, as if trying to will the memories away. But they wouldn't stop. They never stopped.
"Changra." Eldric's voice broke through the stillness, deep and commanding. "Look at me."
Changra didn't move. He kept his head down, his crimson eye glowing faintly beneath his lowered lashes. The room seemed to close in around him, the weight of the crowd's stares pressing against him like an iron cage.
"What did you mean by 'go home'?" Lady Seraphina's voice was sharp, her tone cold. "Answer us."
Still, he didn't respond. His lips parted slightly, but no words came. His hands twitched in the chains, but he made no move to lift his head.
"Say something!" Garrick Ironfist barked, his booming voice echoing through the chamber. "You want us to believe you're not a threat? Then explain yourself!"
Changra remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor. The crimson glow of his eye flickered faintly, but he didn't acknowledge their demands. The words in his mind grew louder, drowning out everything else.
"You're a monster."
"No one will ever care about you."
Elara stepped forward, her tone softer but firm. "Changra," she said, her voice cutting through the chaos. "We're trying to help you. But we can't do that if you don't talk to us."
For a moment, his shoulders tensed as though he'd heard her. But then he slumped further against the pole, the weight of his memories pulling him deeper into himself.
Aetterus, who had been watching with growing impatience, let out an exaggerated sigh. "Pathetic," he muttered, shaking his head. He rose from his seat, his movements graceful yet deliberate as he descended from the platform.
"Aetterus," Elara warned, her tone sharp. "Don't."
He ignored her, his smirk widening as he approached Changra. The room fell silent again, all eyes on the slender man as he stopped a few feet from the bound figure. He tilted his head, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement.
"You want to sulk?" Aetterus said, his voice light but mocking. "Fine. But we don't have all day for your pity party."
Changra didn't react, his head still bowed, his gaze fixed on the floor. The dagger's faint hum lingered in the back of his mind, mingling with the endless loop of his parents' voices.
Aetterus clicked his tongue, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Let's see if this gets your attention."
Without warning, Aetterus lashed out with his foot, the toe of his boot connecting hard with Changra's face. The impact sent Changra's head snapping to the side, blood dripping from his split lip as the room erupted in gasps and shouts.
"Stop it!" Jane's voice rang out from the crowd, filled with panic and anger. She pushed past the others, her hands gripping the edge of the bleachers as she glared at Aetterus. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Elara stepped forward, her hand on the hilt of her dagger. "That's enough, Voss."
Aetterus turned to face them, his smirk unshaken. "Oh, please," he said, his tone flippant. "Someone had to snap him out of it. You're welcome."
Changra's head slowly turned back, blood trailing down his chin. His blue eye flickered with something unreadable, while the crimson one glowed brighter, casting eerie shadows on his face. He lifted his gaze for the first time, his voice low and hoarse.
"I said…" He paused, his breath shuddering. "I want to go home."
The silence that followed Changra's hoarse words was deafening. The room seemed frozen, every pair of eyes locked on him as if willing him to speak further. But he didn't. He slumped back against the iron pole, his head tilted down, the faint glow of his crimson eye casting eerie shadows across his face.
"Home?" Garrick Ironfist broke the silence, his gruff voice tinged with frustration. "What do you mean, 'home'? Where is that?"
Lady Seraphina leaned forward slightly, her dark eyes narrowing. "Is it the Crimson Dominion?" she asked coldly. "Or somewhere else? Tell us."
Changra said nothing. The chains around his wrists pulsed faintly, their golden glow dimming as though reflecting his own faltering strength. The voices in his head grew louder, their relentless accusations blending into a cacophony that drowned out the guild bosses' words.
"You're nothing."
"No one cares about you."
"You'll never escape who you are."
"Answer us!" Eldric's voice boomed through the chamber, his piercing green eyes fixed on Changra. "Where is this 'home' you speak of? Is it here? Is it somewhere we should fear?"
Changra's breath hitched, his body trembling as the voices in his head clashed with the demands of the room. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, but he didn't lift his head. He didn't answer.
The crowd grew restless, murmurs rippling through the bleachers like waves. A faint growl of impatience came from Garrick, while Lady Seraphina's lips pressed into a thin line. Eldric stepped back, his hands gripping the edge of the platform as he studied Changra with a mixture of suspicion and frustration.
Aetterus let out a theatrical sigh, his smirk widening as he crossed the floor to stand before Changra. "You're really testing our patience, boy," he said, his tone light but laced with malice. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"
Changra flinched slightly at the sound of his voice but said nothing. The crimson glow of his eye flickered faintly, his breathing shallow and uneven.
"Fine," Aetterus said, his smirk twisting into something darker. "If you won't tell us, I suppose we'll have to beat it out of you."
Before anyone could react, Aetterus lashed out with his foot, kicking Changra hard in the ribs. The impact echoed through the chamber, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd. Changra grunted in pain, his body jerking against the chains, but he didn't cry out. He didn't lift his head.
"Aetterus, stop this!" Elara's voice rang out, sharp and commanding. She took a step forward, her green eyes blazing with anger. "This isn't how we do things."
"Isn't it?" Aetterus shot back, his smirk never faltering. "He's a danger to all of us. If he won't answer, he's as good as dead anyway."
Without waiting for a response, he struck again, this time driving his knee into Changra's stomach. The bound boy doubled over, coughing violently, but still, he didn't speak. He didn't look up.
"Aetterus, enough!" Jane's voice rang out from the crowd, trembling with rage and desperation. She stood, her hands gripping the edge of the bleachers, her tear-streaked face pale. "You're going to kill him!"
"Maybe that's what it'll take," Aetterus replied coldly. He grabbed Changra by the hair, forcing his head up to meet his gaze. "Look at me," he hissed. "Tell us what you mean by 'home,' or I'll make sure you never see it again."
Changra's blue eye flickered with a faint glimmer of emotion—fear, pain, something unplaceable—but his crimson eye burned brighter, casting eerie shadows across his bruised face. His lips parted slightly, but no words came. The voices in his head roared louder, drowning out everything else.
"You're nothing. You're nothing. You're nothing."
"Stop it!" Jane's voice broke through the noise, but it was distant, like an echo in a dream. Changra barely registered it, his gaze unfocused, his body trembling.
Aetterus struck him again, a sharp blow to the face that sent blood dripping from his split lip. The crowd murmured in shock and unease, but no one intervened. Even Eldric remained silent, his expression grim.
"Speak," Aetterus demanded, his voice low and venomous. "Speak, or die."
Changra's head drooped again, his bloodied lips moving faintly as if trying to form words. The crimson glow of his eye flickered erratically, its light casting fractured shadows across the floor.
"I…" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I want…"
Aetterus leaned closer, his smirk returning. "What's that?" he asked mockingly. "Speak up, boy."
Changra's breath shuddered, his voice trembling as he forced the words out. "I want… to go home."
The room was stifling, the murmurs of the crowd fading into an oppressive silence as Changra slumped against the iron pole. His body trembled, his breath shallow, and the only words he spoke—"I want to go home"—hung in the air like a haunting refrain.
Aetterus sneered, his patience wearing thin. He crouched down, grabbing Changra by the collar and yanking him upright. "Home," he repeated mockingly, his hazel eyes glinting with malice. "What does that even mean, huh? Is it here? Some place we should fear? Or are you just wasting our time?"
Changra's head lolled to the side, his gaze unfocused. The crimson glow of his eye flickered weakly, casting faint shadows across his bruised face. "I… want to go home," he murmured again, his voice hollow and mechanical.
Aetterus growled in frustration, releasing Changra with a sharp shove. "That's it," he spat, standing and brushing off his patchwork coat. "If you won't answer, you're as good as useless."
Before anyone could react, Aetterus struck him again, his boot connecting hard with Changra's ribs. The boy gasped in pain, his body jerking against the chains, but he didn't cry out. He didn't lift his head.
"Aetterus, enough!" Elara's voice was sharp and commanding, her hands clenched at her sides. "This isn't a trial—it's a beating."
"It's justice," Aetterus shot back, his smirk twisted into something cruel. "If he won't cooperate, he's a danger to all of us. You know that as well as I do."
He turned back to Changra, his expression darkening. "One last chance, boy," he said coldly. "Tell us what you mean by 'home.' Or I'll make sure you never see it again."
Changra didn't respond. His lips moved faintly, but the only words that escaped were the same, whispered like a broken mantra. "I want to go home."
Aetterus's hand shot out, grabbing Changra by the throat. The crowd gasped, Jane's panicked voice ringing out from the bleachers. "Stop it! You're going to kill him!"
But Aetterus didn't let go. His hazel eyes burned with fury, his grip tightening. "You're nothing but a liability," he hissed. "A broken weapon. And if you won't talk, then—"
The air shifted.
A low hum filled the chamber, faint at first but growing louder with each passing second. The temperature dropped, the torches flickering wildly as a crimson light pulsed through the room. Aetterus froze, his grip loosening as he turned toward the source of the disturbance.
The Crimson Dagger.
It appeared out of nowhere, its glowing blade streaking through the air like a vengeful comet. The crowd gasped, some ducking for cover as the dagger hurtled toward the center of the room. Aetterus barely had time to step back before it embedded itself into Changra's arm with a sickening thunk.
Changra's head snapped up, his blue eye wide with shock while his crimson eye burned brighter than ever. His body convulsed, the chains around his wrists shattering as the dagger's energy coursed through him. The crowd erupted in chaos, their shouts and cries blending into a deafening roar.
For a moment, everything froze. Changra's gaze flicked to the dagger protruding from his arm, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The pain was sharp, searing, but it was nothing compared to the wave of clarity that washed over him.
The voices in his head stopped.
The crimson glow of his eye steadied, its light casting eerie shadows on the walls. Changra's trembling fingers wrapped around the hilt of the dagger, his grip tightening as he pulled it free with a grunt of pain. Blood dripped from the wound, but he didn't seem to notice.
He stood slowly, the weight of the dagger heavy in his hand. The crowd fell silent, their eyes fixed on him with a mix of fear and awe. Even Aetterus took a cautious step back, his smirk faltering for the first time.
Changra's gaze shifted to him, his expression unreadable. The crimson light of his eye pulsed faintly, the dagger in his hand glowing in time with its rhythm. For the first time, his voice was steady as he spoke.
"You wanted me to talk," he said, his tone low and cold. "Well, here I am."
The silence was thick and heavy, broken only by the faint hum of the Crimson Dagger in Changra's hand. His crimson eye burned brightly, casting a flickering glow across the chamber. The crowd watched in stunned silence as the guild bosses leapt from their seats, their movements sharp and deliberate.
Eldric Stormrider was the first to land on the chamber floor, his storm-adorned armor gleaming in the flickering torchlight. His piercing green eyes locked onto Changra as he strode forward, his voice booming. "What are you, boy?" he demanded, his tone a mix of authority and accusation. "And why does that dagger answer to you?"
Before Changra could respond, Garrick Ironfist stepped forward, his plate armor clinking with each heavy step. He crossed his arms, his expression stern. "That's the same dagger they said caused the deaths of your companions," he said, his voice low and gruff. "Is it true? Did you kill them?"
Changra's grip on the dagger tightened, his gaze flicking to the dwarf, but he said nothing. The voices in his head had gone silent, replaced by the rhythmic pulse of the dagger's glow.
Lady Seraphina Nightshade moved with quiet grace, her midnight-blue robes trailing behind her as she circled Changra. Her dark eyes narrowed, her voice soft but cutting. "Are you even in control of yourself?" she asked. "Or are we speaking to the dagger now?"
Aetterus Voss's laughter broke the tension, sharp and mocking. He moved with a casual swagger, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief as he approached. "I think the real question," he said, tilting his head, "is whether he's a threat to us. Or if he's just a weapon waiting to be pointed in the right direction."
Elara Windwhisper was the last to step forward, her green eyes flicking between Changra and the dagger in his hand. She didn't speak right away, her expression unreadable as she studied him. When she finally spoke, her tone was calm but firm. "Changra," she said. "Look at me. Are you still in there?"
The room grew quieter as the five guild bosses closed in, their presence imposing and suffocating. Changra's chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his fingers trembling against the hilt of the dagger. He glanced at each of them in turn, their faces blurring in his mind as the weight of their questions pressed down on him.
"I don't…" he began, his voice trembling. He shook his head, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I don't know."
Eldric's eyes narrowed, his voice sharp. "Not good enough. We need answers. Now."
Garrick's hand rested on the hilt of his war hammer, his posture tense. "You're not walking out of here until we know exactly what you are and what you've done."
Lady Seraphina leaned closer, her dark eyes glinting with suspicion. "If you won't tell us," she said softly, "we'll have to assume the worst."
Aetterus smirked, his tone playful but laced with malice. "Or we could just take that shiny little toy of yours and see what it has to say."
Elara stepped in front of them, her hand raised in a gesture of caution. "Enough," she said firmly. Her gaze softened as she looked at Changra. "Give him a moment."
But Changra's breathing grew heavier, the weight of their words pressing down on him like a vice. The dagger pulsed in his hand, its hum growing louder, and for a moment, his crimson eye flared brighter.
"I don't know!" he shouted, his voice breaking. "I don't know who I am, or what this is, or why it's happening!"
The echo of his words filled the chamber, silencing the guild bosses and the crowd alike. Changra's chest heaved as he struggled to steady his breath, his knuckles white against the hilt of the dagger.
Elara's voice broke the silence, soft but steady. "Then we'll figure it out. Together."
Her words hung in the air, a fragile thread of hope in the midst of chaos. The other guild bosses exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of suspicion and uncertainty. But for now, they held their ground, waiting for Changra's next move.
The silence lingered in the room, heavy and unyielding, as all eyes remained fixed on Changra. His chest heaved with uneven breaths, the faint hum of the Crimson Dagger still echoing in his ears. For the first time since the trial began, he lifted his head fully, his blue and crimson eyes meeting the guild bosses with a raw, unguarded intensity.
"I don't… understand," he began, his voice trembling but rising above the oppressive quiet. "I don't understand this power. I don't understand this dagger. But it's like… it's part of me. It's something I need."
Eldric crossed his arms, his piercing green eyes narrowing. "Need for what?" he asked, his voice steady but sharp. "To destroy? To control?"
Changra shook his head, his grip tightening on the dagger. "I don't know," he said, his voice cracking. "But it's like it won't let me go. No matter what I do, it keeps pulling me back. It's like it's tied to everything I've done… everything I've lost."
The crowd murmured softly, their whispers blending into a faint hum that mirrored the dagger's glow. Changra's gaze dropped again, his fingers trembling as he clutched the weapon.
"You keep asking me what I mean by 'home,'" he said, his tone hollow. "But it's not a place you'd understand. It's… it's Earth."
Lady Seraphina tilted her head, her dark eyes narrowing. "Earth?" she repeated. "What is that?"
"A world," Changra said, his voice barely audible. "My world. The place I came from before I ended up… here."
A ripple of confusion and curiosity passed through the crowd. Even the guild bosses exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions a mix of disbelief and intrigue.
Changra let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and broken. "You think this place is bad?" he asked, his tone darkening. "You think I'm dangerous here? You should have seen me there."
He looked up again, his crimson eye glinting faintly. "My life on Earth was a hellhole. Every single day was a fight just to stay alive. My parents…" His voice faltered, his gaze dropping as the memories surged forward. "They hated me. They beat me. They called me a monster, said I'd never be anything but a mistake."
Elara's expression softened, a flicker of sympathy crossing her face, but she remained silent.
"It didn't stop there," Changra continued, his voice growing heavier. "Everyone else—the kids at school, the teachers—they all treated me the same. Like I was worthless. Like I didn't deserve to exist."
His grip on the dagger tightened, his knuckles white against the crimson hilt. "And maybe they were right," he said, his tone bitter. "Because it doesn't matter where I go. Earth. Here. It's all the same. I'm a murderer."
The word hung in the air, sharp and unrelenting. The crowd gasped softly, their whispers rising again. Thorne leaned forward in his seat, his face pale, while Jane's hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock and sorrow.
Changra's shoulders sagged, the weight of his confession pulling him down. "I killed them," he said, his voice cracking. "My parents. I stabbed them to death when I was a kid. And no matter how far I run, no matter what I do, it follows me. That's who I am. That's all I'll ever be."
He sank to his knees, the dagger falling from his hand with a clatter that echoed through the chamber. His head dropped, his body trembling as tears spilled freely down his bruised face.
"I just wanted to go home," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "But it doesn't matter. I'll never escape this. I'll never escape… me."
The room fell silent, the crowd stunned into stillness. The guild bosses exchanged uneasy glances, their commanding presence faltering in the face of Changra's raw vulnerability. Even Aetterus, who had mocked him moments before, stood frozen, his smirk replaced by an unreadable expression.
Jane stood abruptly, her tears flowing freely as she tried to move toward Changra. But Elara caught her arm, holding her back gently. "Not yet," she said softly, her gaze fixed on Changra's crumpled form.
For the first time since the trial began, the room wasn't filled with accusations or demands. Only the quiet sound of Changra's sobs echoed through the chamber, a haunting reminder of the weight he carried.
The silence stretched on, thick and oppressive, as Changra knelt on the cold stone floor, his shoulders trembling. The faint hum of the Crimson Dagger had faded, leaving only the sound of his ragged breathing. His tears dripped onto the ground, tiny pools that seemed to mirror the weight of his sorrow.
He raised his head slowly, his blue and crimson eyes darting between the guild bosses and the crowd. His voice broke the stillness, quiet at first but growing with each word.
"Why?" he asked, his tone raw and trembling. "Why am I here?"
No one answered. The room remained eerily still, their eyes locked on him as though they, too, were searching for answers they didn't have.
"Why am I the one who has to go through this?" Changra's voice cracked, his hands trembling as they clenched into fists. "Why does it have to be me?"
His gaze shifted to Eldric, then Garrick, then Seraphina. His voice rose, filled with frustration and pain. "What did I do to deserve this? Was it because I killed them? My parents? Is that it? Is that why I keep ending up in these nightmares?"
The words hung in the air, sharp and unrelenting. He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "No. That can't be it. Because I've seen worse people. I've seen monsters—real monsters—who get to live normal lives. Who get to smile. Who get to be happy."
His eyes burned as they scanned the room, searching for something—anything—that might make sense. "So why me?" he demanded, his voice cracking. "Why do I have to carry this? Why does this dagger want me? Why can't I just… be left alone?"
His breaths grew heavier, his voice trembling as he continued. "What am I even supposed to do? Save this world? Destroy it? How am I supposed to know what's right when I don't even know who I am?"
The crowd shifted uncomfortably, but no one spoke. Even Aetterus, who had been so quick to mock and attack, remained silent, his smirk gone.
Changra's voice softened, a broken whisper that filled the empty space. "Why do I feel like no matter what I do, it's never going to be enough? Why does it feel like I'm always going to be… this?"
His head dropped again, his tears falling freely. "I just wanted to go home," he said, his voice barely audible. "Not because it was better. It wasn't. It was hell. But at least there, I knew what I was. I didn't have to wonder if I was a hero or a villain. I didn't have to question whether I deserved to exist."
The room was silent, the weight of his words settling over everyone like a shroud. Changra's shoulders sagged further, his body trembling as he whispered, "I don't even know why I'm still alive."
For a moment, no one moved. The guild bosses stood frozen, their expressions ranging from unease to guilt. The crowd held their breath, their murmurs long forgotten. The room felt like it was holding onto something fragile, something that could shatter at any moment.
And then, a single voice broke the silence.
"You're alive," Jane said softly, her voice trembling but steady, "because you matter."
Changra's head lifted slightly, his tear-streaked face turning toward her. Her eyes were filled with tears, her expression a mix of sorrow and fierce determination. She stepped forward, her movements hesitant but resolute.
"You matter to me," she said, her voice growing stronger. "I don't care what you've done, or what you think you are. You're here, Changra. And that's enough."
The room remained silent, the power of her words lingering in the air. Changra stared at her, his chest heaving as he struggled to process the weight of what she had said.
For the first time in what felt like forever, the voices in his head were quiet.
Changra's gaze lingered on Jane, his crimson eye glinting faintly in the flickering light. Her words echoed in his mind, soft and unwavering, but they stirred something in him that he couldn't ignore—a pain that cut deeper than the chains ever had.
"You don't know me," he said, his voice trembling, raw with frustration and sorrow. "You think you do, but you don't."
Jane stepped closer, her hands clenched at her sides. Her eyes didn't waver, her voice steady. "Then tell me," she said softly. "Help me understand."
His fists tightened, his breath hitching as the weight of his emotions pressed against his chest. "You think I'm some hero," he said bitterly, his voice rising. "Some… chosen one with a destiny. But you don't know who I really am."
"I know enough," Jane replied, her tone firm but gentle. "I've seen you fight for others. I've seen you risk everything for people you barely know. That's who you are to me."
Changra shook his head, his voice breaking. "You've only seen what I wanted you to see," he said, his words laced with self-loathing. "You don't know about the blood on my hands. About the things I've done. The people I've let die."
"I know you carry that pain," Jane said, stepping closer. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "And I know you feel like it defines you. But it doesn't."
His chest heaved, his frustration bubbling over. "You don't know what it's like!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "To be called a monster by the people who were supposed to love you. To look in the mirror and see exactly what they said you were."
Jane flinched slightly at the intensity of his words, but she didn't back down. "You're right," she said softly. "I don't know what that's like. But I do know what it's like to see someone I care about hurting. And I won't stand here and let you tear yourself apart."
Changra's breathing quickened, his gaze dropping as his fists trembled at his sides. "You say you care," he said bitterly. "But how could you? How could anyone care about someone like me?"
"Because I've seen your heart," Jane replied, her voice breaking slightly. "I've seen the way you fight for others, even when you're breaking inside. You care so much, Changra, even when you think you shouldn't. That's why I care."
He laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and pained. "You've seen nothing," he said, his voice dropping. "You don't know the things I've done. The people I've killed."
Jane took another step closer, her voice unwavering. "Then show me," she said. "Tell me everything. I'm not going anywhere."
Changra's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. Her words struck something deep within him, something fragile and buried beneath layers of pain and guilt. He turned his head away, his body trembling as he tried to hold himself together.
"You don't understand," he whispered, his voice breaking. "If you did, you wouldn't be standing here."
Jane hesitated for only a moment before stepping even closer, her hand reaching out to gently touch his shoulder. "Maybe I don't understand everything," she admitted, her voice soft. "But I want to. Because you're worth it, Changra. You're worth fighting for."
Her words broke something in him, the dam of his emotions shattering under the weight of her quiet strength. His knees buckled, and he sank to the ground, tears streaming down his face. Jane knelt beside him, her hand never leaving his shoulder as she stayed close, her presence a steady anchor in the storm of his grief.
For the first time in a long time, Changra let himself cry. And Jane stayed with him, her own tears falling silently as she held onto the boy who felt so lost but who mattered so much to her.