Changra knelt on the cold stone floor, his body trembling as sobs wracked his frame. Jane stayed beside him, her hand a steady presence on his shoulder, her expression filled with quiet sorrow. The room remained silent for a moment, the weight of his emotions holding everyone in an uneasy stillness.
Then, the guild bosses began to move.
Eldric Stormrider stepped forward first, his piercing green eyes scanning Changra with a mix of suspicion and regret. His voice, low and commanding, broke the silence. "We need to decide what to do with him."
Lady Seraphina Nightshade crossed her arms, her raven-black hair shimmering as she tilted her head slightly. Her tone was sharp, though her expression was unreadable. "The dagger alone is a problem," she said, her dark eyes flicking to the weapon still lying on the ground near Changra. "And with him wielding it? That's a danger we can't ignore."
Garrick Ironfist let out a gruff sigh, his thick arms crossed over his chest. "He's unstable," he said bluntly. "You all saw what happened here. Whatever control he might've had before, it's gone. We can't trust him."
"That's assuming he ever had control in the first place," Aetterus Voss interjected, his tone dripping with mockery. He leaned casually against the railing of the platform, his smirk returning. "This is what happens when you let a weapon think it's a person."
Elara Windwhisper shot him a sharp glare. "Enough, Voss," she said, her tone firm. She turned her attention back to Changra, her expression softening slightly. "He's not just a weapon. He's a boy—one who's clearly been through enough already."
"Enough to make him a threat," Garrick countered, his voice heavy. "The deaths of his companions prove that."
Changra flinched at the words, his sobs quieting slightly but his tears still flowing. The names—Tessa, Liora, Callen—echoed faintly in his mind, each one a sharp stab of guilt.
Eldric nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving Changra. "That's true," he said. "And it's not something we can ignore. But there's more to this. The dagger, his power… Whatever he is, it's tied to something bigger."
Lady Seraphina's lips pressed into a thin line. "Which makes him even more dangerous," she said coldly. "If we can't control him, we have no choice but to—"
"To what?" Elara interrupted, her voice sharp. "Kill him? Chain him up like an animal? Is that what you're suggesting?"
Seraphina's gaze flicked to Elara, her expression unchanging. "I'm suggesting we think about the bigger picture," she said evenly. "About what's at stake if we let him go unchecked."
"And I'm suggesting we think about what's right," Elara shot back. "He's not some monster. He's a person, and he deserves a chance to prove himself."
Garrick snorted, shaking his head. "A chance to do what? Lose control again? Endanger more lives?"
"Maybe," Elara said, her voice steady. "Or maybe a chance to find out who he really is. To figure out what this power means, and how to use it for something good."
The guild bosses fell into a tense silence, their gazes shifting between each other and Changra. The crowd murmured softly, their whispers a mix of fear and uncertainty.
Changra remained on the ground, his shoulders slumped, his hands trembling against his knees. The voices of the guild bosses seemed distant, muffled by the storm of emotions raging in his mind. His tears continued to fall, his breath coming in uneven gasps as he tried to make sense of their words.
He didn't know what they would decide. He didn't know if it even mattered.
All he knew was the weight of the dagger's presence, the sting of his memories, and the faint warmth of Jane's hand on his shoulder—a fragile tether holding him to the present.
The tension in the room was palpable, the silence broken only by the soft murmurs of the crowd and the quiet hum of the Crimson Dagger, still lying on the ground near Changra. The guild bosses exchanged tense glances, their expressions a mixture of uncertainty, caution, and frustration.
Eldric Stormrider was the first to speak, his voice steady but filled with gravity. "We can't ignore the danger he poses," he said, his piercing green eyes fixed on Changra. "The power he wields, the destruction it's already caused—it's not something we can just walk away from."
Lady Seraphina Nightshade nodded slightly, her tone cold and calculating. "Agreed. If we're going to keep him alive, we need to control him. Bind him. Take away the dagger and anything else he might use to harm others."
"You can't just chain him up like a prisoner," Elara Windwhisper interjected, her voice sharp. "He's not a threat because he wants to be. He's a threat because he doesn't understand his power. There's a difference."
"A difference that doesn't matter if more people die," Garrick Ironfist said bluntly. The dwarf crossed his arms over his broad chest, his expression stern. "If you ask me, we should lock him up. Keep him under guard until we figure out what to do."
Aetterus Voss let out a soft chuckle, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. "Oh, come now, Garrick," he said, his tone playful but laced with malice. "Where's the fun in that? He's a weapon, plain and simple. We don't need to lock him away. We need to use him."
"Use him?" Elara snapped, her green eyes blazing with anger. "He's not a tool."
"He's not a person, either," Aetterus countered, his smirk widening. "Not in the way you think. That dagger, his power—it's all connected to something bigger. Something dangerous. And if we don't control it, someone else will."
Lady Seraphina's gaze flicked to Aetterus, her expression unreadable. "And what happens if we can't control it?" she asked. "What happens if the dagger consumes him entirely?"
"Then we destroy him," Garrick said, his tone heavy. "Before he destroys us."
Elara stepped forward, her voice rising. "That's not the answer, and you know it. He's not beyond saving. He needs help, not punishment."
Eldric raised a hand, his voice cutting through the growing argument. "Enough," he said, his tone firm. "We're not going to accomplish anything by arguing. We need a plan. One that balances the risks he poses with the possibility of redemption."
"And what would that look like?" Seraphina asked, her dark eyes narrowing. "Keeping him under constant watch? Assigning someone to babysit him?"
"Maybe that's exactly what we need to do," Elara said, her voice steady. "Teach him how to control his power. Help him understand what it means. If we don't give him that chance, we're dooming him—and possibly ourselves."
Garrick snorted, shaking his head. "And if he turns on us? If that dagger takes over again? What then?"
"Then we deal with it," Eldric said, his gaze hard. "But we deal with it when it happens—not before. We don't punish someone for crimes they haven't committed."
The guild bosses fell into a tense silence, their gazes shifting between each other and Changra. The crowd murmured softly, their whispers a mix of fear and uncertainty.
Changra remained kneeling, his head bowed and his shoulders trembling. He could feel the weight of their stares, their judgments, their fear. But he didn't move. He didn't speak. The only thing keeping him grounded was the faint warmth of Jane's hand on his shoulder.
Finally, Aetterus broke the silence, his smirk returning. "Well, this is fun," he said lightly. "But we still haven't answered the question, have we? What do we do with him?"
The chamber was suffocating, the air heavy with anticipation as the votes began. Changra knelt at the center, his head bowed, trembling but silent. The crowd sat in hushed stillness, their eyes fixed on the guild bosses and the others tasked with deciding his fate. Jane knelt beside him, her hand resting firmly on his shoulder, her face pale but resolute.
Eldric Stormrider raised a hand, silencing the whispers that had begun to stir. "This is not a decision to be made lightly," he began, his voice calm but weighted with responsibility. "Nine votes will decide Changra's fate—kill him, exile him, or use him as a weapon. Let us begin. I vote for execution."
He turned to Lady Seraphina Nightshade first. "Seraphina, your vote?"
The raven-haired woman stepped forward, her midnight-blue robes trailing behind her. Her tone was cold and deliberate. "Exile," she said firmly. "He's dangerous, but killing him is unnecessary. Let him face the world and prove himself—or fall."
Eldric nodded, his gaze shifting to Garrick Ironfist. "Garrick?"
The burly dwarf crossed his arms, his expression grim. "Kill him," he said bluntly. "You've all seen what he's capable of. We can't risk letting him live, only for him to destroy more lives."
Elara Windwhisper stepped forward next, her green eyes fierce. "Use him as a weapon," she said. "But not as a mindless tool. If we guide him, teach him, he can be more than his power."
Aetterus Voss chuckled, his smirk widening as he leaned back slightly. "Weapon," he said smoothly. "A blade this sharp should stay in capable hands. Let's make sure those hands are ours."
One vote for exile. Two for using him as a weapon. Two for execution.
Eldric turned to Aria. "Aria, what say you?"
Aria hesitated, her voice trembling but steady. "Exile," she said. "He's more than just his power. But if we exile him, we give him the chance to prove who he is without risking anyone else."
Seth stepped forward, his tone cold and unwavering. "Kill him," he said flatly. "A weapon that can't be controlled is just a liability. And liabilities are dealt with before they destroy everything."
Two votes for exile. Three for execution. Two for using him as a weapon.
Next, Kira Thornshade, the scholar, stepped forward. Her sharp gray eyes flicked between Changra and the guild bosses. "Exile him," she said softly but firmly.
Three votes for execution. Three for exile. Two for using him as a weapon.
All eyes turned to Silas Greystone, the neutral guild official. His face was impassive, his voice calm. "Kill him," he said. "It's the only way to ensure the safety of everyone here—and the world beyond."
The chamber fell silent as the votes were tallied. Eldric stood tall, his piercing green eyes scanning the room. "The votes are final," he said, his voice heavy with authority.
The final tally was clear: Four for kill. Three for exile. Two for weapon.
The crowd erupted in murmurs, the whispers swelling to a roar of fear, anger, and confusion. Jane's hand tightened on Changra's shoulder, her tear-filled eyes darting between the guild bosses. She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice was drowned out by the growing noise.
Eldric raised his hand again, silencing the room. His expression was grim, his gaze heavy as he looked down at Changra. "The decision has been made," he said.
The chamber fell silent as the final tally was announced: Four for kill. Three for exile. Two for weapon. The weight of the decision hung heavy in the air, the murmurs of the crowd swelling into a chaotic roar of fear, anger, and confusion. Jane's hand tightened on Changra's shoulder, her tear-streaked face desperate as she looked toward the guild bosses, her lips parting to protest.
But before she could speak, another voice boomed across the room, loud and unpolished.
"Wait a minute!" Thorne's voice rang out, cutting through the noise like a blade. The burly man pushed his way through the crowd, his imposing frame drawing attention as he leapt down from the bleachers. His boots hit the floor with a heavy thud, and all eyes turned to him.
Thorne stood tall, his face flushed with anger, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Y'all can't do this!" he shouted, his voice cracking with raw emotion. "Changra ain't no monster! He's just… lost!"
The room fell into stunned silence as Thorne turned to face the guild bosses. His words came fast, his grammar clumsy but heartfelt. "I've seen him fight, seen the pain in his eyes. He ain't out here tryna hurt people! He's just tryna figure out who he is, same as any of us would!"
Aetterus smirked, but Thorne jabbed a finger toward him, silencing the illusionist before he could speak. "You think he's dangerous? Sure, he is! But what makes y'all think killin' him's gonna fix anything? He's a kid, dang it! Ain't none of y'all ever been scared of who you are? Ever felt like the whole world was against ya?"
Thorne turned to Silas, his voice rising with urgency. "You! You voted to kill him! But did ya even think about what that means? About what it does to him? Changra don't need death hangin' over his head—he needs a chance! Exile him if ya gotta, but don't you dare take his life. That boy deserves to fight for himself!"
Silas blinked, clearly taken aback by Thorne's outburst. His gaze flicked between the guild bosses, the crowd, and finally, Changra, who remained trembling and silent on the ground.
"You're asking me to change my vote," Silas said, his voice measured. "On what grounds?"
Thorne stepped closer, his voice softening but no less impassioned. "On the grounds that he's worth savin'," he said simply. "Maybe not to you. Maybe not to the guild. But to the people he's fought for, to the people who believe in him… he matters. And I believe in him."
The room remained silent, the weight of Thorne's words sinking into the crowd and the guild bosses alike. Silas exhaled slowly, his gaze returning to Changra. The trembling boy looked up briefly, his crimson and blue eyes glinting faintly with a mix of fear and pain.
Finally, Silas turned back to the others. "I change my vote," he said, his voice steady. "Exile."
The crowd erupted into murmurs again, their voices a mix of relief and confusion. Eldric raised his hand for silence, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the room. "The tally is final," he said. "Four for exile. Three for kill. Two for weapon."
Jane's knees buckled, and she let out a soft sob of relief, her hand gripping Changra's shoulder tightly. Thorne crossed his arms, his expression firm as he looked toward the guild bosses. "Y'all made the right choice," he said simply. "Don't screw it up."
Changra's shackles clinked softly as the guards escorted him down the cold stone corridors. The trial chamber's noise faded behind him, replaced by the rhythmic echo of boots on the floor. He kept his head low, the weight of his fate pressing heavily on his shoulders.
Jane walked beside him, her steps hurried as she struggled to keep pace with the guards. Her face was pale, her eyes swollen from crying, but her hand rested gently on his arm, a small gesture of comfort amidst the chaos.
The journey felt endless, each step dragging him closer to the isolation that awaited. When they finally reached the dimly lit cell, the guards unshackled him and shoved him inside. The heavy iron door creaked shut, the sound of the lock echoing through the silence.
Jane slipped in before the door closed completely, taking a seat on the cold floor beside him. Her hands trembled as she clasped them together, her gaze fixed on him.
"It's going to be okay, Changra," she said softly, her voice trembling but filled with determination. "I'll find a way to come with you. No matter what it takes."
Changra didn't answer her. He leaned back against the rough stone wall, his blue and crimson eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. For a long moment, the silence stretched between them, heavy and unrelenting.
Then, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Y'know," he began, his tone light but forced, "this place really needs to work on its hospitality. Back on Earth, we at least had bars on the windows. This whole 'dungeon chic' aesthetic? Not a fan."
Jane blinked, caught off guard by his words. "Changra…"
He waved her off, his smirk growing. "No, seriously. And the food? Don't even get me started. I'm guessing the whole 'three-day-old gruel' thing is your idea of gourmet?"
Despite herself, a faint smile broke through her worry. "That's what you're thinking about right now?" she asked, her voice soft.
"Hey, priorities," he quipped, shrugging. "If I'm going to be exiled, I might as well put in a Yelp review before I go."
Jane shook her head, her smile tinged with sadness. "You don't have to do that," she said quietly. "You don't have to joke about it."
Changra's smirk faltered, his gaze flicking to the floor. "Yeah," he said softly. "But if I don't, who will?"
The room fell silent again, the weight of their shared grief hanging in the air. Jane reached out, placing her hand gently on his. "I mean it, Changra. I'll find a way to come with you. No matter what."
For a moment, he didn't respond. Then, he looked at her, his smirk returning, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You're gonna ruin your perfect track record, y'know," he said. "Hanging out with a guy like me? It's bad for your reputation."
She didn't laugh this time. Her grip on his hand tightened, her eyes shining with tears. "I don't care about that," she said firmly. "I care about you."
Changra's smirk faded completely, and he looked away. The silence between them stretched once more, but this time, it felt less heavy, less suffocating. The faint flicker of a connection—a fragile tether—remained between them, unspoken but undeniable.