***Chapter 21: Trinity ***
**TWO DAYS AFTER THE REVELATION**
The wound in Hexia's chest had nothing to do with the angel's display of force. It came from watching his carefully constructed peace dissolve like salt in water. From understanding that the suicide he'd craved—the final escape—had been permanently sealed by divine intervention.
He sat alone in the guest quarters Lord Cruxxe had provided, staring at the mark on his right hand. The hexagram pulsed faintly with inner light, a constant reminder of the burden he'd never asked to carry. Six years until the first Ancient rose. Six years to find five other heroes. Six years to prepare for battles that would likely kill him anyway.
The protection spell prevented suicide, but nothing stopped an Ancient from tearing him apart. That thought should have brought comfort. Instead, it felt like mockery—forced to live long enough to die properly.
A knock interrupted his brooding.
"Come in."
Sirenia entered, followed by Lhoralaine. Both women carried the determined expressions of people who'd decided something and weren't backing down.
"We've been thinking," Sirenia started.
"Dangerous activity," Hexia muttered.
"About what comes next," Lhoralaine continued, ignoring his deflection. "You can't wander around without proper identification. Can't enter most cities. Can't even book passage on ships without guild credentials."
Hexia's eyes narrowed. "You want me to register with the Adventurer's Guild."
"It's practical," Sirenia said firmly. "The guild operates across all six continents. Their ranks are recognized everywhere. And more importantly—"
"—it's a way to signal the other heroes," Lhoralaine finished. "If we register as a party called Hexagram, use the mark as our symbol, word will spread. The other marked ones will hear about it."
Hexia stared at them. The logic was sound. Annoyingly sound. "You two planned this together?"
They exchanged glances—a moment of understanding passing between former rivals who were learning to be something else.
"We did," Sirenia confirmed. "Is that a problem?"
"No. It's just... unexpected." He stood, his body still aching from divine assault. "Fine. We'll register tomorrow. But I'm naming the party."
"We assumed," Lhoralaine said with the ghost of a smile. "Hexagram?"
"Hexagram." The word felt right on his tongue. Six points. Six heroes. Six elements converging. "And we'll make sure everyone knows what the mark means."
---
**THE NEXT MORNING - BRIARKEEP ADVENTURER'S GUILD**
The guild hall fell silent when they entered.
Every head turned. Conversations died mid-sentence. Tankards paused halfway to mouths. Even the brawl in the corner stopped, combatants freezing like children caught misbehaving.
Because everyone recognized Hexia.
The trial had been public. The angel's proclamation had been witnessed by thousands. By now, half the continent probably knew about the chosen hero, the protection spell, the apocalypse with six years' notice.
Female adventurers stared openly, admiring his angelic features—black hair that caught the light, crimson eyes that should have been warm but held winter. Male adventurers assessed him with the careful attention of warriors evaluating potential threats.
And both women flanking him? Sirenia's silver hair and fierce blue eyes, Lhoralaine's blonde elegance and determined stance—they complemented each other in ways that made the crowd murmur with appreciation and envy.
The receptionist—a young woman with neat brown hair and professional attire—sat frozen, staring at Hexia like she'd seen a legend walk out of stories and into her lobby.
"Um," she managed. "Welcome to the Briarkeep Adventurer's Guild. How may I... how may I help you?"
Before Hexia could answer, several female adventurers converged.
"Is it true you can't die?"
"Did an angel really slam you into the ground?"
"Are you single?"
"Can you teach me that sword technique everyone's talking about?"
"Will you sign my—"
Sirenia and Lhoralaine moved simultaneously, positioning themselves protectively around Hexia. Not aggressively—just present. Creating space.
"Ladies," Sirenia's voice carried authority despite being polite. "He's here to register. We all are. So if you could give us some room?"
"But I just wanted to—"
"Room," Lhoralaine repeated, her tone brooking no argument.
The crowd reluctantly backed off, though the staring continued. Whispers spread like wildfire:
"That's his companions?"
"Both of them?"
"Lucky bastard..."
"I heard they fought over him."
"I heard they're working together now."
"Gods, look at them. They're like night and day—silver and gold."
Hexia endured the attention with the patience of someone who'd learned to ignore discomfort. He approached the reception desk, his movements economical, efficient.
"We'd like to register as a party. And I need individual assessment for rank determination."
The receptionist blinked rapidly, snapping out of her daze. "Right! Yes! Of course! Let me just... um..." She fumbled with papers, nearly dropped them, caught them with a squeak. "Sorry! I'm just—you're *him*! The chosen one! The—"
"Hexia. Just Hexia." His voice was flat but not unkind. "These are my companions. Sirenia and Lhoralaine. They're both B-rank currently and need promotion assessment."
"Right! B-rank! Promotion!" More fumbling with documents. "I'll need to call the guild master. For your assessment. Because we've never... I mean, we don't usually get heroes registering and—"
A door opened behind the reception area.
**THE GUILD MASTER APPEARS**
She wasn't as beautiful as Sirenia or Lhoralaine, but she occupied a middle ground between their aesthetics that was striking in its own right. Around thirty but looking twenty-five, with curves that her guild master's coat couldn't quite hide and eyes that held the sharp intelligence of someone who'd climbed ranks through merit, not politics.
Her name placard read: *Astrid Blackthorn - Guild Master*.
She stopped when she saw Hexia. Her professional expression cracked—just for a moment—showing genuine surprise before snapping back to composed authority.
"Well." Her voice was smooth, confident, with undertones of amusement. "The rumors were true. The chosen hero walks into my guild." She approached with measured steps, her gaze assessing. "I'm Astrid Blackthorn. Guild Master of this branch. And you must be Hexia."
"I am."
"The one who can't die?"
"Apparently."
"Fascinating." She circled him slowly, appraising. Not threatening—more like someone examining an interesting puzzle. "Tell me, hero—does the protection spell cover all forms of death? Or just suicide and accidents?"
The question was innocuous. The delivery was not—carrying subtle provocation, testing his reaction.
"The angel was specific. I can only die by fulfilling my destiny or by an Ancient killing me." His tone remained flat. "Why? Planning to test it?"
Astrid laughed—genuine and delighted. "Gods, no. I value my life too much to threaten someone heaven and hell collaborated to protect. I'm just... curious. Professional interest."
She stopped in front of him, meeting his eyes directly. Fearless despite the reputation, despite the legends already forming around him.
"So. Registration. You want to form a party with these two lovely ladies?"
"Yes."
"Party name?"
"Hexagram."
Her eyebrow rose. "Bold choice. Advertising your nature?"
"The other heroes need to find us somehow."
"Fair point." She glanced at Sirenia and Lhoralaine. "And you two? You're aware that being his companions means you're part of the prophecy? Part of saving the world? Potentially part of dying horribly?"
"We're aware," Sirenia said firmly.
"Wouldn't be anywhere else," Lhoralaine added.
"Good. I respect commitment." Astrid's attention returned to Hexia. "Now, about your rank assessment. Normally we'd start with basic tests—monster subjugation, dungeon clearing, etc. But given your... circumstances..." She smiled. "I think we can skip straight to S-rank evaluation."
"You can do that?"
"I'm the guild master. I can do whatever I want." Her smile widened. "Besides, I've heard the stories. The Swordsman of Rolling Heads. The man who killed fifty bandits without breaking a sweat. Who executed Fred Butlix with surgical precision. Who healed without chanting and crushed enemies with gravity magic."
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to something almost intimate. "Tell me, Hexia—are the stories true? Can you really take heads so cleanly they keep blinking after?"
The entire guild hall had gone silent, everyone straining to hear his answer.
Hexia's expression didn't change. "The technique is called Guillotine. It severs at the neck with perfect horizontal precision. Fast enough that the brain doesn't register death immediately. So yes—they blink. Briefly."
Astrid's eyes lit up with genuine fascination. "Remarkable. And the gravity magic? Tyrant's Plea?"
"Multiplies gravity around a target up to a hundred times normal. Forces submission. Makes fighting impossible."
"And Chaos Meteor?"
"Concentrated destructive magic launched skyward and brought down with catastrophic force. Two hundred feet wide, fifty feet deep. Complete vaporization within the blast radius."
She straightened, her professional mask back in place but eyes still gleaming. "Well then. I think S-rank is appropriate. Welcome to the guild, Hero Hexia."
The hall erupted in noise—cheers, gasps, excited chatter. An S-rank adventurer was rare. An S-rank *hero* was unprecedented.
Astrid raised her hand for silence. "However! Your companions need their own assessments. Sirenia and Lhoralaine—you're both B-rank seeking promotion to A-rank, correct?"
"Correct," they answered in unison.
"Then we'll arrange a promotion quest. Standard procedure—dangerous enough to test your limits, survivable enough that you're expected to succeed. Complete it, and you're A-rank. Simple."
"When?" Sirenia asked.
"Tomorrow. I'll have the details by evening." Astrid turned back to Hexia. "And you, hero? Any particular requests while we're setting things up?"
Hexia was silent for a moment, considering. Then: "Information. About the other continents. The other races. Anything unusual—people bearing marks, wielding elemental powers beyond normal magic, acting... chosen."
"Looking for your fellow heroes already? Smart." Astrid nodded approvingly. "I'll put out inquiries through our network. If the other marked ones exist, we'll find whispers."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. This information won't be cheap."
"I'll pay whatever's necessary."
Astrid's smile returned—sharp and appreciative. "I like you, hero. You're practical. Not burdened by typical adventurer bravado." She paused, then added with deliberate provocation: "Tell me—do all heroes have your particular... assets? Or are you special?"
Sirenia and Lhoralaine's faces flushed simultaneously. The guild hall's noise level spiked with shocked laughter and knowing whispers.
Hexia blinked, his expression shifting to confusion. "Assets? I don't—"
"Your combat skills," Astrid clarified with exaggerated innocence. "What did you think I meant?"
"That's exactly what I thought you meant."
"Of course." Her eyes danced with mischief. "Though I must say—your companions seem quite... protective. Almost territorial." She glanced at Sirenia and Lhoralaine. "Ladies, you do realize sharing is caring, yes?"
"We're not—" Sirenia started.
"It's not like—" Lhoralaine attempted.
"Oh, I'm *sure* it's all very professional," Astrid said with a wink that suggested she believed otherwise. "Anyway! Registration complete! Welcome to the Adventurer's Guild, party Hexagram! Your credentials will be ready by tomorrow, along with details for the promotion quest."
She turned to address the entire hall, her voice carrying authority. "Listen up, everyone! This is Hexia—S-rank adventurer, chosen hero, and officially under guild protection! That means anyone who harasses him, challenges him unnecessarily, or generally makes his life difficult will answer to me personally! Understood?"
A chorus of acknowledgment echoed through the hall.
"Good! Now someone get them drinks! On the house! We're celebrating!"
---
**THE GUILD TAVERN - AFTERNOON**
They sat at a corner table—the kind that gave a view of the entire room while keeping their backs to the wall. Adventurer instinct.
Mugs of ale sat before them, foam still settling. Around them, the guild's atmosphere had shifted from shock to festive—people celebrating the arrival of a hero, the promise of hope against apocalypse, or just using any excuse to drink.
"Well," Lhoralaine said, breaking their silence. "That was... something."
"The guild master was flirting with him," Sirenia observed, her tone carefully neutral.
"She was absolutely flirting with him."
"And he didn't notice."
"He never notices."
They both looked at Hexia, who was staring at his ale with the expression of someone trying to solve a complex mathematical problem.
"Are you two talking about me?" he asked without looking up.
"Yes," they answered in unison.
"Thought so." He finally lifted the mug, took a drink. "For the record—I noticed. I just chose to ignore it. We have bigger concerns than a guild master's sense of humor."
"Is that what we're calling it?" Sirenia's lips twitched. "Humor?"
"What would you call it?"
"Interest. Attraction. The same thing half the women in this guild are feeling." She paused. "And probably some of the men."
Hexia nearly choked on his ale. "What?"
"You're a hero, Hexia. Chosen by angels and demons. Protected by prophecy. And—" Lhoralaine gestured vaguely at him "—you're not exactly hard to look at. People are going to be interested."
"I don't want them interested. I want them to leave me alone."
"Too late for that," Sirenia said gently. "You're famous now. Legendary. The stories about you will spread across all six continents. Every guild will know your name. Every adventurer will want to meet you."
"Every woman will want to marry you," Lhoralaine added with dark humor.
"That's not funny."
"It's a little funny."
Hexia set down his mug with deliberate care. "I'm going to hate this, aren't I? The fame. The attention. The constant scrutiny."
"Probably," they admitted simultaneously.
He sighed—long and exhausted. "Six years. Six years of this before we even face the first Ancient. Six years of people staring, questioning, wanting things from me I don't know how to give."
Sirenia reached across the table, placed her hand over his. "You won't be alone in it. That's what companions are for."
"To protect you from overzealous admirers," Lhoralaine agreed, her other hand joining the pile. "To remind you that you're human, not just a symbol."
"To make sure you actually eat and sleep instead of training yourself to exhaustion," Sirenia continued.
"To occasionally make you laugh when you're being too serious about impending doom," Lhoralaine finished.
Hexia looked at their hands—his covered by theirs, anchoring him to something real in a world that had become increasingly surreal.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "For staying. For this. For... everything."
"Where else would we be?" Sirenia's voice was soft but firm.
"Literally anywhere else that's safer and less apocalyptic?"
"But significantly more boring," Lhoralaine pointed out. "And we've had enough boring times."
A commotion at the entrance made them look up. A runner—young, out of breath—burst through the doors, eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on their table.
"Hero Hexia! Guild Master Astrid requires your presence! Urgent news from the network!"
Hexia stood, Sirenia and Lhoralaine rising with him. "What kind of news?"
"Reports from the dwarven continent. Ironforge Kingdom. Someone bearing a similar mark to yours. Wielding void magic. Princess of the royal family."
The tavern went silent.
Hexia felt the hexagram on his hand pulse—once, twice, synchronizing with something distant. Recognition. Connection.
The Void Hero had been found.
"When do we leave?" he asked.
"Tomorrow morning," the runner replied. "After your companions complete their promotion quest. Ship to Ironforge departs in three days—guild master's already secured passage."
Hexia nodded slowly, processing. This was it. The quest truly beginning. No more preparation in familiar territory. No more delay.
They were going to find the second hero.
And after that, four more. Across continents and kingdoms. Through dangers they couldn't predict and challenges they couldn't anticipate.
Six heroes. Six elements. Six years.
The Journey has begun.
But as Hexia looked at his companions—at Sirenia's determined expression and Lhoralaine's ready stance—he felt something other than dread.
Not quite hope. Not yet. But possibility. The faint suggestion that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't face this alone.
And for someone who'd spent lifetimes drowning in isolation, that was almost enough.
Almost.
---
**TO BE CONTINUED...**
*The hero registered. The companions committed. The quest truly begins.*
*Tomorrow brings promotion trials. The day after, departure. Within the week, a new continent.*
*Within the week, the second hero.*
*And with each hero found, the burden grows heavier. The countdown more real. The apocalypse more certain.*
*But Hexia won't face it alone.*
*He has companions now. Flawed, fierce, and absolutely refusing to let him retreat into emptiness.*
*Even when he wants to.*
*Especially then.*