Moriah
Pain. it was always the first thing she felt.
Dying for the 30th time, hearing the same stuff the same time.
The same people in the courtroom, she was done dying she now wanted to live to get revenge on the person who is guilty not her…
Not anymore…
As she stood there her lungs burned as though she had swallowed fire, burning more and more every time.
Her body ached, heavy with the weight of her last death, the thirtieth death already…
But it was different every time—sometimes the noose, sometimes poison she felt in her lungs as she died and disappeared into the darkness.
Sometimes something far worse even. But always, always, there was pain.
The pain of betrayal, the feeling to be the bad guy.
And then there was the awakening for the thirty first time already.
Moriah's eyes snapped open, and she found herself back in the courtroom again it's like a nightmare for her.
Gasps rippled through the chamber.
The marble walls of the grand chamber loomed above her, flickering candlelight, the stupid stone pillars in the chamber casting a shadow of death.
The wooden podium beneath her fingers was ice-cold, her wrists bound in iron, as she could kill someone again…
The murmurs of the gathered nobles were sharp as knife, looking at her disgusted by her..
The eyes of those people could cut through the silence like whispers of the damned, of the ghosts roaming this courtroom..
The innocence that was taken away.
But this time, she didn't panic anymore like she did in her past lives, begging, screaming..
She now remembered that none of that would work.
The rope tightening. The air leaving her lungs. The moment of absolute nothingness before she was thrust into this life–again…
She inhaled slowly, the scent of ink, sweat, and candle wax filling her senses. The air felt thicker, as if she had awoken in a different story than her previous lifes.
A story where she wasn't the helpless victim. A story where she would no longer beg, no longer cry, or plead that she was innocent.
The judge's voice rang out, sharp as a blade as her previous lifes "Lady Moriah Faxon, you stand accused of the murder of your husband, Lord Marcel faxon. How do you plead?"
His eyes focused on hers looking for guilt but not this time.
Not in this life.
Nor ever again.
Moriah's lips curved. The smile felt foreign on her face–half amusement, half madness..
Her heart pounded, but it was no longer out of fear, no of course it wasn't she was used to it all already.
They didn't know she had lived this life thirty times already.
But she did.
She could feel the weight of their judgment, their certainty that she would crumble.
How many times had she broken before them? How many times had she screamed, pleaded, sobbed so that they would listen to her?
Many times…
But not this time, nor ever again…
She let the silence stretch, savoring the unease crawling through the room like an unseen specter. Unseen moment of the sentry.
Then, tilting her head, she whispered, "I find this rather amusing."
The room stilled.
Noblewoman gripped their pearls, the guards tensed. The judge quilt trembled in his grip.
As Moriah looked around her laughter bubbled up, light and airy, but carrying something sharp beneath her breath, her mind.
She swayed slightly, her chains clinking, her red eyes glinting with an edge of madness.
"Lady Faxon–" the judge began, but she cut him off with a soft hum, a short laugh of her sweet now deadly voice.
"I have been here before." Her voice was almost dreamy, as if she were recounting a fairy tale, a dark one with her sweet yet deadly voice.
"Ive heard these accusations before. Ive listened to you condemn me, over and over, like an broken song that keeps on playing in my fucking head. But you know what's funny?" she leaned forward, lowering her voice to a whisper..
"I'm still here. And you… are all exactly the same."
The courtroom was suffocatingly silent for the first time. No one was saying "she deserve it."
Like they haven't done some bad shit in their life.
Silas
She was different.
Silas Thronblade, commander of the Imperial Guard, watched Moriah Faxon with the sharp gaze of a predator. He had seen her break before.
Seen her cry.
Seen her die.
But this?
This was new.
She wasn't afraid anymore.
she wasn't begging..
She was…smiling.
A chill slithered down his spine, and he found gripping the hilt of his sword–not out of caution no..
But out of something far more dangerous.
Interest.
His gloved fingers tapped against his armrest, slow and calculated. He had expected this trial to follow the usual script, but Moriah had decided to rip the pages apart, the fate to change for her..
His pulse quickened–an unfamiliar sensation.
The woman before him was no longer a desperate noblewife awaiting her sentence. She was a queen without a throne, standing in the ashes of her past lives, ready to set fire to everything.
And he liked it.
He was ready to give her his throne if she showed she was ready for it, ready for him to destroy her…
He rose to his feet, the leather of his uniform creaking as he stepped forward.
The courtroom held its breath.
Waiting for what comes next out of her mad mind.
And her dangerous voice..
The judge swallowed hard "Commander thornblade–"
Silas held up a hand, silencing him with ease. His gaze never left Moriahs.
She knew. She felt it far from behind where he was sitting watching her, her every move, her every word.
somehow , in some way, she was beginning to see the threads of fate that bound them together.
Moriah's eyes flickered to his, and in that moment something passed between them. An unspoken understanding. A challenge.
He had always watched her from the shadows as she married the Lord and to this exact moment.
But now?
Now, he was stepping into the light.
Her light and her darkness…
He smirked. "Tell me, Lady Faxon…If you are innocent, who do you believe killed your husband?"
A ripple of unease spread through the crowd.
Moriah inhaled deeply, her lips parting, but she hesitated. Not because she didn't know the answer, but because for the first time, she was playing the game.
Slowly, she tilted her head, and to his utter delight, she smiled at him. Her dimples showing, her eyes sparkled the damn dark red eyes now.
They were light red and now they are dark colored…
"I don't know yet," she admitted. "But I will find out."
Silas smirk deepened…
"Good," he murmured. " Then let's begin."
The Dance Begins
The next few hours in the courtroom blurred between testimonies, political maneuvering, and veiled threats. Moriah played her role masterfully, answering questions with just enough ambiguity to plant seeds of doubt.
Her chains were eventually removed, though she could feel the watchful gazes of the guards who lingered near her.
Silas observed her from his seat, his mind a battlefield if intrigue. He should not care for this woman at all, yet every moment she defied expectation, she pulled him deeper into her web, her madness of a game she is playing right now.
When the trial was dismissed for the day, Moriah was escorted to a temporary holding chamber within the castle. She stood by the window, her fingers ghosting over the cold stone, her dress in bright red color covered in dirt now but she still looked majestic.
A presence filled the room before she heard the door shut. She didn't have to turn to know who it was, she already knew by the presence he carried everywhere he went.
"You enjoyed that," Sila's voice was low, a whisper of amusement and warning intertwined.
Moriah finally turned, meeting his piercing gaze and those golden eyes of his. "Did i?"
His smirk returned, slow and deliberate.
"Tell me, Moriah…do you even want to prove your innocence, or are you simply enjoying the game now?"
She stepped forward unafraid like everyone else of him, her chin tilting up in defiance. "Perhaps both."
Silas exhaled a quiet laugh of amusement, stepping closer than propriety allowed. "Careful," he murmured. "This game you're playing…you may find that i'm the only one who truly understands the rules."
Her smile was slow, dangerous. "Then maybe, Commander, it's time you taught me."
She tilted her head up to him and smiled.
Showing him that she is ready to be the villain of this story this life….