The Redo of a Novel's Villain: Moira

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The air stifled with the chill of death, its bony fingers caressing the grounds. No wind blew, and no clouds allowed sunshine through. The crowd was silent. All eyes were trained on the group slowly advancing towards the platform.

Guards, one at the front, two on the flank restraining a boy, and one at the end. It was odd having four guards on one person, each sporting an anxious expression, especially against the frail-looking boy with a body riddled with wounds. His head hung low, walked and stumbled with a flaccid limp, and face obscured by a mop of black hair. Nevertheless, everyone knew better.

The guards hurriedly dragged him up to the platform and threw him down. The harsh motion caused his fetters and shackles to clang sharply. They glared at him before retreating.

The boy slowly got up. Inspecting the crowd all eager to feast on his demise with ill amusement. Sorrow, anger, relief, and fear brewed in a cacophony of hate. Swirling in the air yet etched and rooted so deep it could reach the spirit world. The boy casually swept his gaze around the sea of people awaiting his death. Something bubbled inside but fizzled out when he turned around. On a higher platform stood the royal family firmly protected by knights.

The king, queen, princess, and princes glowered down on him. Evident disgust and loathing blazed from their expressions. He wanted to laugh, but the chuckle died in his throat upon seeing two others.

A boy with platinum hair and eyes alike.

A girl with short wavy blonde hair and blue diamond eyes more brilliant than the sky.

Someone's voice cut through the air.

"With the crime of plotting against the kingdom, endangering and slaughtering numerous lives, abuse of power, treason against the royal family, and conspiring with the demonic race. You are hereby sentenced to execution by decapitation." The man who said it stood next to the king, reading off a scroll. He was the captain of one of the knights' brigades. Azure something? Silver?

Abruptly, the boy with platinum hair jumped down from the platform, his silky cape billowing in the air. He landed with a thunk and unsheathed his sword. The blade glistening under the sun swung swiftly. The sound was crisp and stopped inches from his bruised neck.

"And I will be your executioner, Huey Astaseul, no, Huey." The tone was cold and regal. Odd for someone usually so warm.

"Sorin Ceylon." Huey chuckled. "Lucky me, dying from the kingdom's saviour." His eyes, concealed by messy bangs, peered at the other's face. Inching closer to the blade, his throat practically touched the odd. Huey flitted over Sorin's face, which was as unperturbed as one could be in this situation, but he could not hide the disconcert swimming in silver eyes.

"Enough of your nonsense. Don't you regret anything?! You've ruined lives. Families. Friends. Children." He paused. The seconds ticked by, each one getting closer to Huey's last. Sorin inhaled sharply. "Tell me you feel something. Tell me."

Silence.

Then a weak laugh, more of a huff.

"Did you want me to repent or something?" Huey's vexing smile was wiped away. His expression chilled, and crimson-red eyes gazed up at Sorin, void of emotions. Said person flinched.

Huey tilted his head. "What would you do if I said I did regret it? Free me? We all know my ending, so why does it matter whether or not I regret it?"

Sorin bit his lips. "...You could've been seen as something other than a monster."

Huey blinked, then whipped his head back in laughter. A clear and fresh peal echoed amidst the area. The crowd stared, disturbed.

"Oh? Expressing regret and guilt isn't going to suddenly change what I am in society's eyes. What, are you going to share my sob story? Reshape the bastard villain into a pitiful victim?"

"I-"

"Cut the crap, Sorin." Huey snapped before sighing. "Get it over with. The crowd is getting antsy."

Indeed, the people gathered to watch the execution had begun muttering.

What's taking so long?

Kill the traitor already!

I'm getting impatient.

What are they talking about?

Even the royal family grew restless. The prince shot Sorin a look—hurry up—it said. The boy sighed before the unwavering determination settled on his features once again. The people soaked in anticipation and bated breaths.

With a loud and clear voice, Sorin asked.

"Any last words?"

"Yeah." He looked up at the cloudy sky, which caused his face to become slightly unveiled. Sorin peeked at the slight smile, one that could be almost mistaken as sad. Huey's chapped lips parted, and a whisper—the other male surely would've missed had the day not been windless—slipped out. "Thank you,—" He said, silently mouthing the final word. Whatever it is unrevealed.

Huey had closed his eyes, looking as though he was meditating in a serene garden rather than his execution grounds—seconds away from dying. Sorin's eyes trembled, and he sighed.

He lowered the blade.

A rare breeze caressed their cheeks.

And Sorin struck.