The trial wasn't held in a courtroom.
It was held in the square.
Public. Ancient. Designed for humiliation more than justice.
They dragged us out at dawn. Shackled, cloaked, eyes forward.
Not because they needed to control us—
But because they wanted the people to see.
A stage was built from obsidian stone.
The White Regent stood at the center like a holy executioner.
Around us: nobles, mages, priests, and hundreds of citizens—all silent, all waiting for the show.
And above them?
Mirrors.
Dozens of floating silver mirrors broadcasting our trial across every surviving city in the kingdom.
This wasn't a hearing.
It was a warning.
---
The first to speak was the Inquisitor General.
He read our "crimes" like scripture:
> "Magical treason.
Cursed bonding.
Harboring godblood.
Endangering the realm through unauthorized procreation."
That last line struck like a whip.
There was a pause—just a second.
And then—
Gasps.
The crowd rippled.
The nobles whispered.
And the entire capital learned at once:
Virelya was pregnant.
---
She didn't flinch.
Not when they said it.
Not when the priests spat curses under their breath.
Not when the Inquisitor turned and sneered, "Do you deny it?"
She lifted her chin.
"No."
Just one word.
No apology. No plea. No defense.
Just truth.
And the crowd—didn't cheer. Didn't riot.
They froze.
Because there was no script for this.
No punishment for a villainess who dared to love so openly—and still refused to break.
---
The White Regent stepped forward.
"This child," he said, voice echoing through the enchanted mirrors, "is not a miracle. It is a weapon. A vessel for a god you failed to destroy."
I stepped toward him.
The chains burned my wrists, but I didn't stop.
"She is not a vessel. And this child is mine."
The crowd erupted. Some shouted curses. Others stood in silence, unsure whether to pray or flee.
The Regent ignored them.
He drew a blade.
Sleek. Silver. Cold.
"I offer mercy," he said. "Let the girl live. End the child before it's born."
I saw Virelya stiffen beside me.
Her eyes didn't flash with rage.
They deadened.
Something inside her folded shut.
And I knew.
The real trial was over.
What came next… was war.
---
Virelya's chains shattered.
No spell. No movement. Just will.
Pure magic screamed from her skin as her body lifted, light twisting around her like a second sun.
The crowd screamed.
Soldiers rushed forward.
The Regent raised his sword to strike her down midair—
And I broke my chains with a roar.
Steel met steel. Blade to blade.
The White Regent was strong.
But I was done being hunted.
---
We fought on the stage.
A blur of violence.
Sparks flew from enchanted steel. Magic collided in the air, tearing holes in the mirrors above.
People fled.
Some stayed and watched, eyes wide, mouths silent.
Because what they saw wasn't two fugitives fighting to survive.
They saw a man ready to burn a kingdom for the girl beside him.
And a woman no longer afraid to be powerful.
---
The Regent struck.
Hard.
Faster than I expected.
His blade skimmed my shoulder, and I stumbled—momentarily disoriented.
But Virelya was already there.
Not beside me.
Behind him.
"Touch him again," she said, "and I will unmake you."
He turned, eyes wide, just in time to see her eyes glow silver-bright.
And then—
She vanished.
---
Not disappeared.
Ascended.
Hovering above the stage, her cloak torn, her body wrapped in magic I didn't recognize.
Not fire. Not ice.
Heartlight.
The bond between us pulsed once—so strong it made my bones ache.
And then—
She dropped to the ground in front of me, bent low, her hand at her stomach.
Her breath hitched.
"Caelum—"
Blood stained her fingertips.
Not much.
But enough.
Enough to silence the world around us.
---
The pregnancy was real.
But the child?
The child was reacting.
To fear.
To power.
To war.
She gritted her teeth. "We need to get out—now."
I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her close, shielding her as more soldiers poured in.
The Regent shouted for them to capture us alive.
But he was already too late.
Because the crowd?
The crowd wasn't on his side anymore.
Some screamed.
But others—bowed.
Not in fear.
In reverence.
Because the villainess wasn't a monster anymore.
She was something worse.
Hope.