Chapter 225: Consequences And Guilt

The night lingered, deepening as silence settled heavily around them, as if the world had paused to listen.

The three moons slowly ascended across the sky, their pale light casting soft layers over the half-ruined Guild grounds, blurring the line between destruction and rebirth.

From their vantage point, Sage and Valeria watched the reconstruction efforts below, shadows frozen in time: unfinished scaffolds, stacked timber, and scattered tools left behind by those too exhausted to continue.

It was remarkable how quickly the battlefield had transformed. Just days ago, it had been filled with screams and explosions; now it lay still, fragile and uncertain like a breath held too long.

Neither of them moved for a while after Sage spoke about his sister. The weight of that confession hung between them not oppressive but profound, as if it had shifted something invisible in the air.

Valeria’s gaze remained fixed ahead, her posture rigid yet no longer guarded. Sage leaned slightly forward, elbows resting on his knees as his eyes traced the faint outlines of the Guild in the distance.

Eventually, Valeria broke the silence. “You carry a lot,” she said quietly. “More than most would admit.”

Sage let out a faint breath that bordered on amusement. “I think everyone carries something. Most just hide it better.”

Valeria shook her head slightly. “No. Most bury it. Hiding means you still know where it is; burying means pretending it never existed. And when it resurfaces… it destroys you.”

Sage glanced at her. “You speak from experience.”

Her jaw tightened but she didn’t deny it. “Every decision leaves something behind,” she replied. “Every battle, every person you couldn’t save, every moment you hesitated, people like us don’t walk away clean; we just learn to keep moving.”

The words hung heavy between them, unrefined yet shaped by truth rather than comfort. The night wind shifted gently against their faces, carrying with it faint scents of burned wood and healing herbs from the Inn.

After a moment of contemplation, Sage exhaled slowly. “Gregor hasn’t been seen,” he said.

Valeria’s eyes flickered with recognition. “I noticed.”

“He’s avoiding everyone,” Sage continued calmly but with an edge of understanding in his voice. “And I know exactly what he’s feeling right now.”

Valeria didn’t respond immediately; instead, her gaze sharpened slightly as she processed his words. “You think this is about guilt.”

“It is about guilt,” Sage affirmed. “Gregor believes all of this happened because of him, because he pushed for that mission and convinced everyone to accept it. If he hadn’t insisted… none of this would’ve happened.”

Valeria’s hands tightened on her knees as her fingers curled slowly into fists again, a tension returning to her shoulders born not from anger but reflection.

“He’s wrong,” she said after a moment. “He didn’t force anyone. We all agreed.”

Sage nodded. “That’s what logic tells us. But guilt doesn’t heed logic; it twists everything until it feels personal. It transforms ’we chose’ into ’I caused.’”

Valeria fell silent again, her expression shifting not into disagreement, but into a reluctant acceptance. She recognized that feeling all too well.

“I don’t hate him,” she finally admitted. “And I don’t blame him.”

Sage met her gaze.

“For my sister… for Mina… for everything that happened,” Valeria continued, her voice steady yet softer now, “Gregor wasn’t the only one present. None of us tried to stop it. None of us questioned the risk or thought to pull back. We were all complicit, every single one of us.”

Her eyes dropped slightly, shadows flickering across them.

“In the end… we were blinded by greed.” The words struck like a sharp blade, and silence enveloped them both.

“And because of that,” she added quietly, “we’re facing the consequences.”

Sage remained silent, allowing the weight of her words to settle between them; they weren’t accusations but admissions, truths spoken without defense.

“That’s what people struggle to accept,” Sage said after a moment. “Consequences aren’t punishments; they’re balances. The world doesn’t care about intent, it responds to action. And when we act… something always follows.”

Valeria offered a faint, humorless smile. “You sound like a philosopher.”

“I’ve had time to think,” Sage replied with a hint of irony. “Dying tends to do that.”

She huffed softly, though there was no real amusement in it.

“Gregor won’t return easily,” she said thoughtfully. “Not until he finds a way to forgive himself.”

Sage nodded slowly in agreement. “And that’s often the hardest thing for anyone to achieve. Facing external enemies is easy; confronting your own mistakes…” He trailed off, his gaze drifting upward once more. “That’s where most people break.”

Valeria studied him for a moment, her expression inscrutable. “You’re not just talking about Gregor.”

Sage didn’t deny it. “I’ve made choices too,” he admitted candidly, both from where I come from and here. Some were necessary; others were selfish, some I can justify and some I can’t but they’re all mine, and I live with them.”

Valeria leaned back slightly, closing her eyes for just a second as she inhaled the cold air around them. “Do you regret it?” she asked finally, the path you chose? The Guild? The battles? The responsibility?

Sage sat in silence for a moment before responding. “Regret isn’t quite the right word. Regret suggests I’d want to go back and change things. Maybe I would… if it meant undoing the pain caused to others. But if I erased everything, this Guild wouldn’t exist. The people we saved wouldn’t be alive. The connections we forged wouldn’t be real.”

He paused, his gaze unwavering. “So no, I don’t regret it. I just… carry it with me.”

Valeria opened her eyes and turned slightly toward him. “You’re an interesting one,” she remarked.

“I’ve heard that before.”

“You don’t shy away from responsibility,” she continued. “You don’t shift blame or pretend you’re always right. And yet… you keep moving forward.”

Sage offered a small smile. “Because standing still doesn’t solve anything.”

They fell into another comfortable silence, their conversation deepening beyond mere words, an understanding formed not through agreement but through shared experience. Outside, the night remained still, the three moons casting their gentle glow over a Guild that had nearly crumbled yet refused to vanish.

In the silence, Sage pictured him: somewhere in the city, perhaps, sitting alone in a dark room, replaying every moment, every decision, trapped in a prison of his own making.

“Gregor will return,” Sage said after a while. “Not because we summon him, but because this place is his home. When he’s ready to confront himself, this is where he’ll come back.”

Valeria didn’t argue; she believed it too.

“And when he does,” Sage added, “we won’t judge him or lecture him. We’ll simply… be there for him, like we always have been.”

Valeria nodded slowly. “That’s what a Guild truly is,” she replied softly. “Not just a building or a banner, but people who stand together even when everything else falls apart.”

Sage looked at her with warmth in his expression. “Exactly.”

The wind shifted again, colder this time, brushing past them like a gentle reminder that dawn would eventually break and life would continue on, that the choices made tonight would influence everything that followed.

They had talked about guilt and consequences and the weight of decisions made. In doing so, something within both of them had changed, not healed or resolved but acknowledged.

Some wounds never fully close. Some regrets linger on. Yet speaking them aloud lightened the burden.Not enough to erase the pain, But just enough to keep moving forward.

The three moons had shifted, their light now falling more directly on the unfinished Guild Hall, as if blessing the work yet to come.

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