The door shook before it opened, rattling on its hinges as though the soul beyond was already trying to break through. The lanterns flared wildly, their light burning hot against the stone pillars. Lyra's heart leapt in her chest. She could feel it in the air—this soul was not calm, not gentle, not even cunning. This one came with fire.
The door burst open.
A man staggered through, tall and broad, his face twisted with rage. His clothes were torn, stained dark with the shadow of blood. His hands shook, clenched into fists as though they were ready to strike. His eyes darted around the hall, wild and unsettled.
"What is this place?" His voice roared across the chamber. "Where have you dragged me? Who dares stand in my way?"
Lyra flinched but forced herself to stay upright behind the counter. Her knees trembled. This man radiated danger in a way she had never felt before.
Kaelen stepped forward, unshaken. His presence filled the hall, steady and unyielding. "You stand in the Hall of Judgment. Here, your life will be revealed. Here, you will face the truth of who you were."
The man spat at the ground, his lip curling. "Truth? Lies, more like it. I know what I did, and I would do it again. Every man I killed deserved it."
The silver mirror shimmered into existence at Kaelen's side. Its surface rippled like liquid, waiting.
The man snarled at it. "What is that cursed thing?"
Kaelen's tone was even, almost cold. "The mirror shows what was. You cannot fight it. You cannot break it. You cannot silence it. You will see yourself as you were."
The man laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and broken. "Then let it show. Let it prove I was right."
The mirror stirred.
The man's childhood appeared first. A small boy huddled in a corner while a heavy hand struck him again and again. His father's voice was a thunder of cruelty. His mother's sobs filled the background, powerless to stop them.
The boy grew older, running from blows, hiding in fields, stealing bread to survive. His eyes hardened, his fists clenched. He learned early that the world gave nothing freely.
Lyra felt her throat close. She could not look away. "He… he suffered."
The man barked out a bitter laugh. "Aye, I suffered. And I learned. No one would ever raise a hand against me again."
The mirror shifted. The boy was a man now. He stood in a dark alley, cornered by thieves. One raised a blade. The man fought back. In desperation, he grabbed a rock and struck. Once. Twice. Again. Blood spilled. The thieves fled, but one lay still on the ground.
The man's chest heaved as he looked at his own reflection. "He would have killed me. I had no choice."
Lyra swallowed hard. "It was survival."
Kaelen's eyes narrowed. "Survival does not excuse what followed."
The mirror pulsed again.
The man stood in another alley, this time seeking out those who had wronged him. A merchant who once refused him food. A guard who mocked his poverty. A neighbour who turned him away. One by one, they fell, their blood staining his hands.
Lyra's hand flew to her mouth. "He kept killing."
The man shouted, slamming his fist against his chest. "They deserved it! Every one of them! They made me what I am. I only gave them back what they gave me."
The mirror did not slow. It showed years of violence. The man's eyes grew darker with each scene. His justifications turned thinner. His first kill had been desperate. The rest were choices. Again and again, he struck, until murder was not a last resort but the first.
Kaelen's voice thundered through the hall. "You became what you claimed to hate. You suffered, and instead of breaking the cycle, you fed it. You turned your pain into a weapon."
The man's breath came ragged, fury spilling from him. "I lived in a world of wolves. And I became the strongest wolf. No one ever hurt me again."
Lyra's tears burned. "But you hurt everyone else. You became the very hand that beat you."
The man turned his wild eyes on her, stepping forward. "And what would you know, girl? You, standing here safe, speaking as though you lived my life? You think mercy feeds a starving child? You think kindness stops a blade?"
Lyra froze. His presence towered over her. For a moment, fear rooted her in place.
Kaelen moved between them, his dark eyes unflinching. "You will not touch her."
The man snarled but did not advance. He spat again, glaring at the mirror. "Show more. Show them all. I regret nothing."
The mirror obeyed.
The man grew older. His body carried scars. His clothes were rich now, stolen from those who fell to him. But his eyes were hollow. He ate in silence. He drank in silence. He slept with a blade at his side, waking at the faintest sound. No family. No laughter. Only the shadow of his victims clings to him.
The man's lips trembled as he saw it. His smile twisted. "I survived. That is all that matters."
Kaelen's voice was sharp as steel. "You did not survive. You only delayed your death. And when it came, you met it alone."
The final image filled the mirror. The man stood in a tavern, drunk, his hand around his knife. A young man confronted him, eyes blazing with anger. It was the son of one of his victims. The boy struck fast, and for the first time, the killer could not stop the blade. He fell to the ground, choking, bleeding, the crowd watching in silence.
His last breath was not a word of regret, but a laugh that shook with bitterness.
The mirror went dark.
The man in the hall pounded his fists against his chest. "I lived as I had to. I killed as I had to. And I would do it again."
Lyra's voice rang out, trembling but fierce. "No. You would do it again because you became the very thing you hated. You let your pain turn you into a monster. And now you stand with nothing."
The man roared, his voice echoing like thunder. Shadows surged around him, the lanterns flaring dangerously. He fought against them, arms swinging as if to strike the very air.
Kaelen lifted his hand. His voice was calm, yet filled with power. "Enough."
The hall obeyed. The shadows coiled tighter, wrapping around the man. His struggles slowed, his voice cracked, and finally, the rage dimmed. He sank into the stillness of the hall, his body dissolving into the silence.
Only his echo remained. A bitter, broken laugh that faded as quickly as it rose.
The hall fell silent. The lanterns steadied. The mirror vanished.
Lyra's chest heaved. She wiped her tears with trembling hands. "He never saw it, Kaelen. He never saw what he became. He thought survival was all that mattered, even when he was already dead inside."
Kaelen looked down at her, his voice steady but heavy with meaning. "Some souls cling to their pain until the end. They see only the wounds they received, not the wounds they gave. The hall strips them bare, but it cannot force them to understand."
Lyra pressed her hand to her heart. "Then what is the point? If they cannot see, if they cannot change—what is the point?"
Kaelen's gaze lingered on her, calm and unwavering. "The point is truth. Whether they accept it or not, the truth is revealed. And in this hall, truth endures."
The far door pulsed faintly, waiting for the next soul.
Lyra closed her eyes, the sound of the killer's bitter laughter still echoing in her mind. She had seen love forgotten, and now rage unending. The hall was teaching her, piece by piece, the terrible weight of what it meant to live.
She opened her eyes again, trembling but standing tall. "Then let the next one come."