The courtroom smelled of polished wood and tension, the faint metallic tang of fear lingering in the air. Alaric sat on the defendant's bench, hands cuffed lightly in front of him, the golden veins under his skin hidden beneath his hoodie. His chest was tight, pulse hammering. He had rehearsed his stance, his story, every word, but the gravity of reality was heavier than anything he had faced before.
The gallery was mostly empty — public curiosity had faded, leaving only a few bored-looking journalists and an officer keeping watch. Evans sat in the corner, notebooks clutched tightly to his chest, eyes darting nervously between the judge, Alaric, and the few lawyers in the room.
Alaric's heart skipped when the bailiff called the court to order. The judge, an older man with steel-rimmed glasses and a voice that could cut glass, adjusted the papers in front of him and looked directly at Alaric.
"Alaric Ward," he began, voice stern, "you are charged with unauthorized entry, tampering with classified property, and damage to federal and corporate property. How do you plead?"
Alaric swallowed hard, his throat dry. He could feel the energy within him pulsing faintly, golden threads flickering beneath the skin. He forced himself to stay calm, to not let it react.
"Guilty," he said in a quiet, measured voice. Not guilty wasn't an option. The evidence, the witnesses, the lab's security footage — everything pointed straight at him.
The courtroom murmured softly. Evans tensed, his fingers gripping the edge of his notebook.
"Very well," the judge continued. "You have admitted guilt. I will hear the details of your actions from the prosecution and your counsel, after which I will deliver judgement."
The prosecutor, a tall woman with a sharp tone and sharper eyes, stood. "Your Honor, the defendant unlawfully entered a restricted Aurion Industries facility, tampered with highly sensitive materials, and caused extensive damage. His actions endangered himself, others, and potentially national security. This cannot go unpunished."
Alaric's jaw tightened. He could feel his hands trembling slightly under the cuffs. He didn't want anyone else to get blamed, especially Evans. All of it had been his choice.
When it was his turn, he spoke softly but firmly, almost like speaking to himself. "It was me. I took all the risks. No one else is responsible. Evans had nothing to do with this. All the responsibility… it's mine."
The judge studied him for a long moment, the room silent except for the faint scribbling of a court reporter.
"Is that correct?" the judge asked.
"Yes, Your Honor," Alaric replied, meeting his gaze. "Everything… it's on me."
The lawyers whispered among themselves. Evans exhaled shakily, relief mixed with dread. He had tried to argue, to defend, but Alaric's choice was absolute.
The prosecution continued, laying out the evidence: security footage showing Alaric inside the facility, the scorch marks, the stolen files. The jury listened, occasionally glancing at the defendant with detached curiosity.
Alaric felt a strange calm amid the storm. He focused on the faint hum beneath his skin, the golden threads pulsing slowly. Each word the prosecutor spoke reinforced his resolve — he had to take the fall. For Evans, for his mother, for everything.
Finally, the judge rose. The courtroom quieted.
"Alaric Ward," he said, voice low and deliberate, "considering your admission of guilt, the severity of the offenses, and the potential danger posed, this court finds you guilty on all counts."
The words landed like stones in Alaric's chest. He blinked, swallowed, and nodded slightly.
"You are sentenced to three years imprisonment," the judge continued. "You will be taken into custody immediately. You may have one phone call before being escorted to the correctional facility."
Alaric's throat tightened. This was it — the moment he had prepared for. He thought of his mother, of Evans, of the secrets buried deep in the Aurion files. He had to protect them.
When the officer approached him, Alaric didn't hesitate. "I want to call Evans," he said firmly.
Evans handed him the phone, voice trembling slightly. "Al… are you sure?"
Alaric nodded. "Yes. I need to hear a familiar voice before…" He trailed off.
The line connected. Evan's anxious voice came through immediately. "Alaric! Are you—what—how—"
"I'm fine," Alaric interrupted, keeping his tone steady, almost casual. "Listen… I got sentenced. Three years. I also… found out everything in my file. Everything they did to me."
Evan's voice dropped to a whisper, incredulous. "What… what did you find?!"
"I'll tell you everything," Alaric said quietly. "so listen Carefully i cannot repeat ! They found about me and everything I have done before my mother and as well as my father and don't worry they didn't found out about that so don't worry and listen I just… I need you to promise me something. Every week, you tell me anything you discover about my file. I need to know. So when I get out… after three years… I can be someone else. Stronger. Better."
Evan's voice cracked slightly. "Al… I… you don't have to—"
Alaric cut him off, a faint, sad smile touching his lips. "I have to, Evan. I'll take the fall. I'll handle this. Just… keep the secrets safe. Tell me what I need to know."
The officer tapped him on the shoulder. "Time's up, Ward."
Alaric exhaled, tightened his hoodie around his hands, and looked at the empty courtroom one last time. Then, with deliberate steps, he walked toward the exit.
As the door closed behind him, Evan slumped in his seat, silent, gripping the phone as if it could physically hold Alaric's voice with him.
Outside the court, the city continued its indifferent hum. People passed by, unaware of the quiet drama that had just played out within the walls of justice.
Alaric's mind was already shifting — calculating, planning. Three years. That was all the time he had. And when the day came… he would not be the same person who walked into that courtroom.
He whispered to himself, barely audible over the click of the handcuffs, "I'll come back… different. Stronger. And ready."