The hall was empty.
For the first time since Lyra had stepped into this strange place between worlds, there was no door opening, no voice calling out from the shadows, no presence heavy enough to bend the air. Only silence.
It was wrong.
It felt endless.
She stood in the centre of the great chamber, her heartbeat the only sound. The torches that usually burned along the walls flickered softly, their flames smaller than usual, their light fragile and uneven.
Lyra waited.
Minutes passed, maybe hours. Time no longer made sense here. The hall seemed to stretch and contract with every breath she took, as though it were alive and listening.
Then she felt it — that familiar pressure, the sense of something vast and ancient stirring.
Kaelen stepped forward from the shadows.
He rarely moved so close. Usually, he stayed at the far end of the chamber, a figure half-hidden by the dark, his presence cold and untouchable. But now he walked toward her, his boots barely making a sound against the polished stone.
Lyra's throat tightened. "There's no soul today?"
"No," Kaelen said. His voice was calm as ever, but something in it carried an edge that hadn't been there before. "Today, the judgment is not for the dead."
Her chest tightened. "Then who—"
"You."
⸻
The word hit harder than any strike.
Lyra took a step back without meaning to. "Me?"
Kaelen's gaze didn't waver. "You stand in this hall and pass judgment on others. You watch their lives unfold and decide their fates. But tell me, Lyra… who are you to judge?"
She blinked, her mouth opening, then closing. "I… I don't know."
"That is not an answer."
His tone was sharper now, and though he hadn't moved closer, it felt like he had.
"I was chosen," she said quickly, almost defensively. "You said I was brought here for a reason."
Kaelen's eyes gleamed faintly in the dim light. "Chosen, yes. But not yet worthy."
Her heart sank.
He continued, his voice like water flowing slowly over ice. "You pity them, you fear them, but you have not yet understood them. You cannot truly judge what you do not accept in yourself."
Lyra's pulse quickened. "What are you talking about?"
Kaelen raised a hand, and the light in the hall dimmed until it was almost gone. The shadows thickened and rippled around her feet. The air grew heavy, suffocating.
"Do you remember the night you died?" he asked.
Lyra froze. "I—"
Her voice caught in her throat.
⸻
She hadn't remembered. Not really. There were flashes — the rain, the sound of breaking glass, a scream, her own name echoing in the dark. But it was all fragmented, half-buried under the weight of this new world.
Kaelen's expression didn't change, but his eyes softened in a way that made her uneasy. "You hide from it. But judgment cannot exist without truth."
Lyra's knees felt weak. She wanted to look away, but the shadows were closing in, spinning around her like a slow storm. Images flickered in the dark — faces she didn't recognise, a city street at night, the reflection of her own terrified eyes in a window.
"Stop," she whispered. "Please."
Kaelen's voice was quiet, but firm. "If you cannot face yourself, you will never understand them."
"I said stop!"
Her voice cracked, but the memories kept coming — a man shouting, hands grabbing her, the sound of tyres on wet pavement. And then nothing.
A blank silence.
⸻
Lyra fell to her knees, clutching her head. Her breathing was ragged, and tears she hadn't felt in ages burned her eyes.
Kaelen watched her, unmoving. His face was unreadable, but his voice softened. "Good. Feel it. You must remember the pain that made you what you are."
Lyra looked up at him, her voice breaking. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"Because judgment is not cruelty," he said quietly. "It is true. And truth must be faced before it can be given."
She wanted to hate him for it. For standing there so calm, so untouched, while she drowned in the fragments of her past. But beneath the fury, there was something else — understanding.
The souls she had judged had all faced their own truth, whether they wanted to or not. Now it was her turn.
⸻
The light returned slowly, flickering back to life like fading embers. Lyra sat on the floor, trembling, her breath uneven.
Kaelen stepped closer, his shadow falling over her. For the first time, she realised how close he really was — close enough that she could feel the faint pull of his presence, like gravity itself leaned toward him.
"You think judgment is only about punishment," he said softly. "But it is not. It is a balance. To see darkness and still recognise the light beneath it. To understand what broke someone and what they became because of it."
Lyra wiped her face with shaking hands. "And if I can't?"
Kaelen crouched slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Then the hall will consume you. The weight of every soul you judge will crush you until there is nothing left."
Her heart hammered.
"I won't let that happen," she whispered.
A faint smile touched his lips — not kind, but approving. "Then stand."
⸻
Lyra pushed herself up, unsteady but determined. Her knees ached, her chest burned, but she stood tall.
Kaelen rose with her, towering slightly, his gaze piercing. "You are beginning to see," he said. "But do not mistake survival for understanding. The difference between the two is what separates the living from the eternal."
She took a breath, forcing herself to meet his eyes. "Then teach me."
For the first time, his expression shifted — the smallest flicker of surprise.
"Teach me to see what you see," she said again, voice steady now. "Teach me how to understand them. To truly judge them."
The silence stretched between them, deep and heavy. Then Kaelen inclined his head slightly. "Very well."
⸻
The torches flared, flooding the chamber in pale light. The air shifted, the shadows pulling back into place like obedient creatures.
"This hall is not what it seems," Kaelen said, walking slowly past her. "It listens. It learns. It remembers every choice, every hesitation. The next soul you face will not only test them… it will test you."
Lyra's stomach tightened. "How?"
"You will see," Kaelen said. "But remember this, Lyra — judgment is not mercy, and it is not cruelty. It is true. And truth always demands a price."
⸻
She stood in the quiet that followed, her heart still beating fast, her mind spinning.
For the first time, she saw Kaelen not as a cold figure of authority, but as something older, deeper — not cruel, but bound by duty. A being who carried the weight of countless souls and never faltered.
He was not just a Judge.
He was the embodiment of judgment itself.
Lyra exhaled slowly, steadying herself. The silence no longer felt empty. It felt alive, waiting for what came next.
And so was she.