Bonus Chapter: The Trial of Dedecus
In the aftermath of the events of Transcendence, judgment awaits. Can Dedecus ever truly be redeemed?
Haven’t had a chance to read Transcendence, book 2 in the Creativity Stone series yet? Check it out now then come back and find out what happens in this exclusive bonus chapter!
Dedecus stood bound in the center of the town square, the villagers pressing around him in a restless wave of emotions—anger, fear, uncertainty. Their whispered judgments buzzed like insects, relentless and inescapable. The last time he had been here, he'd left the village in ruins. Now, he stood before them as their prisoner.
The damage from the inferno bears had been cleared, but his crimes lingered invisibly, heavy and suffocating. He could feel their hatred like a scorching brand, marking him forever as the monster he had become. Dedecus gritted his teeth, the bitterness of lifelong rejection rising in his throat. Once merely an outcast, now he was the nightmare haunting Fides.
The village council faced him from the front of the crowd, standing in a rigid, accusing line. Don's expression remained frustratingly unreadable, although something in the older man's eyes hinted at compassion Dedecus didn't deserve. Joshua and Namid stood beside him, tension etched deeply in their familiar faces, uncertainty mingled with something else Dedecus couldn't name. Sharon crossed her arms, her calculating stare piercing through him without mercy.
Dedecus's gaze flicked to the three new council members, appointed hastily after the destruction he caused. Adia stood stiffly, avoiding his eyes, grief clear in her tight posture. It was fitting, he supposed bitterly, that she now cared for the children he'd orphaned. Beside her was Jerold, the new leader of growth and technology, analyzing Dedecus with detached curiosity, as though he were a puzzle to solve.
And finally, there was Mreck—someone he had never met, yet Dedecus could already tell exactly the kind of person he was. The man radiated contempt, viewing Dedecus as a stain that needed scrubbing out of existence. They'd put him in charge of the village's defenses. And from the glare in his eyes, Dedecus could tell Mreck considered him Fide’s greatest threat.
Don stepped forward, his voice steady but heavy.
“We stand here today in the aftermath of great destruction. Many lives were lost, and much was broken. But Dedecus stands here, alive. A miracle in itself. And so, we must decide—not just what to do with him, but what kind of people we choose to be.”
The crowd murmured, a shifting sea of emotions. The late afternoon breeze swept quietly through the square, doing nothing to relieve the tense stillness that hung heavy over every shoulder.
Mreck scoffed, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
“This isn’t complicated,” he said, stepping forward. “He murdered our people. He nearly wiped out this entire village—twice. I don’t care that he claims to be sorry. How do you make up for that? You can’t. There’s only one fitting punishment.” His eyes locked onto Dedecus with the sharpness of a drawn sword. “He should die for what he’s done.”
A ripple of agreement moved through the crowd. Someone shouted, "Justice for our dead!"
Dedecus clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He had expected this. He had prepared for it. But hearing the words still sent a cold weight into his chest.
Joshua stepped forward, his fists tight at his sides. “No!” His voice rang with a desperation Dedecus hadn’t expected. “He’s not the same person he was when he took the Creativity Stone! He gave it up—he removed it from his own chest. You saw him die. God brought him back. That has to mean something!”
“God bringing him back doesn’t erase what he’s done,” Mreck snapped. “And let’s be honest—are we just supposed to assume it was God? He died from removing the stone. Maybe his link to the stone brought him back. How do we know some other dark power isn’t at work here?”
The words sent a fresh wave of whispers through the gathered villagers. Suspicion bloomed in their eyes.
Namid stepped forward, her voice sharper than steel. “That’s ridiculous. We all saw it happen. Dedecus removed the Creativity Stone from his chest and chose to surrender it, sacrificing himself in the process. God’s given him a second chance and we have a duty to allow him to take it.”
Dedecus glanced at her, surprised by the unwavering conviction in her voice. But she wasn’t looking at him—her gaze was fixed on the crowd, daring them to challenge her words.
Sharon exhaled slowly, her arms still crossed over her chest. “Even if that’s true, the reality remains—he did commit those crimes. We can’t just pretend that didn’t happen.”
Adia spoke, her voice quieter than the others, cautious and measured. "It's more complicated than just what Dedecus has done. It's what he still represents to people. Even if he's changed, even if he regrets everything, the fear he left behind is real. The children still flinch at his name. The nightmares haven’t stopped.” Her gaze flickered briefly toward Dedecus, sadness more than anger coloring her features. “How do we move forward from that?”
Dedecus swallowed, the words pressing heavily against him, but he said nothing.
Sharon leaned forward, her voice sharper and more direct. "Exactly. How do you expect us to overlook the pain you've caused? The lives you've shattered?"
Dedecus stared at the ground, his fists clenched at his sides. Adia’s words pierced deeper than the others', twisting painfully in his chest. Of course the children feared him—they had every reason to. He'd grown up an orphan himself, longing for acceptance, haunted by the loneliness of never belonging. Now, because of him, other children faced the same cruel fate, their nightmares filled with the monster he’d become. A shuddering breath escaped him, tension building as desperation fought to surface, but he forced it back down.
“I don’t expect anyone to overlook it.” His voice was strained, holding a careful tightness. “You think I don’t know exactly how people look at me? You think I don’t wake up every day remembering the things I've done?” His voice trembled slightly, but he forced himself back under control. “I despise what I've become, what I've caused, but I can't undo any of it.”
Mreck’s lip curled, his words blunt and biting. “Then you shouldn’t get to live among us.”
Joshua stepped forward. "That's not fair. He gave up the stone—he chose to sacrifice himself. We all saw it. If we judge him as if nothing has changed, then what hope is there for anyone who's made mistakes?"
The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable.
Dedecus’s pulse pounded in his ears as he looked out over the crowd. Their faces were a storm of emotions—anger, fear, uncertainty.
“I understand why he took the stone,” Jerold said, his voice measured. “He wanted power because he had none. He wanted control because he had none. I even understand why he lashed out at us. He was an outcast. He suffered his whole life. And we didn’t help him.”
Dedecus felt his stomach twist. He didn’t want their pity.
“And yet, he still made the wrong choice.” Sharon’s voice was sharp.
Jerold didn’t flinch. “Yes. And he needs to answer for it. But not with his life.”
Mreck let out a scoff, crossing his arms. “Then what? You want him to just walk free?”
“No one is saying that,” Namid cut in. “But how would killing him make anything better? It won’t bring back the dead. It won’t fix what was broken. If we do this, then we’re proving we haven’t changed either. We’ll be the same as when we executed people under the Judges of Justice. That’s not who we are anymore.”
Dedecus studied her face, searching for hesitation, but there was none. Namid had always been like this—level-headed, fair. But the fact that she was defending him at all, especially now, made something tight in his chest loosen just a little.
Mreck shook his head. “Justice isn’t vengeance. But justice is consequences. What consequences do you propose?”
Sharon’s gaze flicked to Dedecus, unwavering, assessing. “We hold him accountable, but we don’t execute him. He must work—hard—to rebuild this village. The homes that were destroyed, the lives that were shattered. But he must live outside the village, it’s the only way to keep people from being too afraid to leave their houses.”
Dedecus barked a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, I see. You want me to be your village servant. Your little reminder of past mistakes so you can all feel better about yourselves.”
“Dedecus—” Joshua started, but Dedecus wasn’t done.
His voice hardened, fists clenching. “No. I get it. You don’t want to kill me, but you don’t want to accept me either. You just want me to pay for the rest of my life.”
Namid stepped closer, her voice calm but firm. “This isn’t just about you. It’s about what’s right.”
Dedecus exhaled sharply, bitterness creeping into his voice. “Right? This village treated me like a mistake before I ever did anything wrong. And now you expect me to just—serve the people who spat on me? The people who drove me to take the stone in the first place?”
Sharon’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what repentance is, Dedecus. It’s not just feeling sorry for yourself. It’s making things right, even if it costs you.”
His breath came heavier. “And who decides when the cost is enough? You?”
“The people you hurt,” Adia said softly, but her voice cut through the noise like a blade.
His voice came quieter now, more raw. “And what if it never is? What if nothing I do is enough?”
The silence that followed stretched unbearably long, heavy as the weight on his shoulders.
Don sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “That’s the risk of repentance, Dedecus. You don’t get to control the outcome. You just choose whether you’ll do what’s right anyway.”
A thick stillness hung in the air.
Joshua ran a hand through his hair. He glanced toward Dedecus, frustration etched deeply into his expression. "I don’t like this," he said finally, voice taut. "He doesn’t deserve to be treated like a slave."
Namid’s expression softened. “I won’t let that happen.”
Sharon nodded. “Then it’s decided. He will live. But he will work to rebuild the village. He will prove he has changed—not just with words, but with actions.”
Mreck scowled, but there was resignation in his face. “And if he fails?”
Don exhaled. “Then we face that when it happens.”
The crowd murmured, some nodding, some uncertain, but no one objected.
Dedecus inhaled deeply, then exhaled just as sharply. His fate had been decided. But maybe it was a chance to prove himself.
His fingers curled into his palms as he forced himself to say it. “Fine.”