The tribunal chamber of Wlex pulsed with life and fury. Bioluminescent vines crawled along walls of living stone, glowing brighter with each beat of the council's anger. Thousands of Vaelith citizens packed the tiered seats, their tall figures looming like pillars, their painted faces streaked with sorrow and rage.
At the center stood a single figure—small, fragile, alien to them all. Shackled in crystalline bonds, Ethan Cross lifted his head and faced the tribunal. His face was pale, his eyes hollow, but his spine remained straight. He was the last of Earth's astronauts. The others had perished in fire when the Wlex mistook their mission as invasion. Now, all the fury of an entire world fell on him alone.
The High Arbiter rose from his throne, nine feet tall, scars carved across his cheeks like lightning strikes. He slammed his staff against the stone, and glyphs flared across the walls. His voice thundered in alien tongue:
"⋏ ⍜ ⊬ ⬖⟒ ⏃⋔ ⍀ ⟒ ⏃ ⌇ ⟒."
(Translation: "He trespassed, and he brought death.")
The chamber howled as one. Ethan's heart pounded.
The Arbiter lifted his hand, and the vines above bloomed with light. History itself spilled into the air: visions of a rocket, old and rusted, breaking through Wlex's skies long ago. A band of Earth's rogue military men had come, seeking to claim the planet. They brought fire, weapons, death. Villages turned to ash. Families slaughtered. Half the Vaelith people annihilated in one war of conquest.
The chamber screamed as if the wounds were fresh.
Ethan staggered, his breath catching. "No… that wasn't us. I didn't know! I swear to God—I didn't know!" His voice echoed, desperate, but the Vaelith only hissed.
General Kael, commander of the Wlex armies, strode forward, armor glinting with bone and silver. His voice cut like steel.
"⍀ ⟒ ⊬ ⏃ ⌇ ⟒! ⬖⟒ ⍀⟒ ⊬ ⍀ ⟒ ⌇⟀⟒ ⋔ ⋏ ⟒ ⋏ ⍀ ⟒ ⋮ ⟊."
(Translation: "Punishment! He must pay for the scars left upon us!")
The crowd pounded their fists, the tribunal trembling with rage.
Ethan shouted above them, his voice raw. "I'm not them! I wasn't even born when this happened! I came to explore, to learn—we never meant to hurt you!"
The Arbiter's eyes narrowed. Glyphs burned around him.
"⟊ ⍀ ⟒ ⌇ ⊬⟒ ⊬ ⬖⟒ ⍀⟒ ⊬ ⟒ ⏃⍜ ⟒ ⍀⟒ ⍊."
(Translation: "Justice is not mercy.")
From her place beside her father, Lyra felt her chest tighten. Her people's fury thundered around her, but her eyes fixed on Ethan. He looked so small, so breakable, yet he stood, refusing to bow. And in his eyes she did not see the malice of the old invaders—she saw fear, confusion, and something else. Innocence.
Elder Veyna rose, her face etched with pain.
"⋔ ⍀ ⟒ ⏃ ⍜ ⍀ ⊬ ⟒ ⌇ ⟒ ⍜⋔ ⍀ ⟒ ⍀⟒ ⍀."
(Translation: "If we forgive, they will return.")
Elder Drath snarled, pounding his clawed hand against his throne.
"⋮ ⊬ ⟒ ⍀⟒ ⊬ ⟒ ⟒ ⍀ ⬖⟒ ⍀⟒ ⊬."
(Translation: "Blood must answer blood.")
The crowd roared in agreement. Spears struck stone. The vines glowed red. Ethan swayed on his feet, sweat streaking his brow.
Then, an older voice rose—Elder Sava, whose eyes were clouded with age but sharp with wisdom.
"⟒ ⍜ ⍜⋔ ⊬ ⟒ ⏃⍜ ⍀ ⟒ ⍜ ⟒ ⊬."
(Translation: "We punish the child for the father's crimes.")
The words fell like a crack of thunder. A hush spread, uneasy.
Ethan looked up at Sava, hope flickering in his eyes. "Yes! That's the truth! I'm not them—I'm not their war! Please… don't kill me for something I never did!"
General Kael snarled, stepping forward. His eyes burned with fire.
"⋔ ⍀ ⟒ ⍀⟒ ⟒ ⌇ ⊬⟒ ⊬ ⊬ ⍜ ⍀ ⟒ ⌇ ⟒ ⍀ ⊬ ⟒ ⌖."
(Translation: "Mercy makes weakness, weakness makes death.")
Lyra's hands trembled at her sides. She looked at her father, then at Ethan. In his eyes, she saw not weakness, but defiance—the same fire her people claimed as their own.
The Arbiter raised his staff high, glyphs bursting into flames across the chamber.
"⍀ ⟒ ⊬ ⏃ ⌇ ⟒ ⟒ ⏃⋔ ⟒ ⏃ ⌇ ⟒ ⟊!"
(Translation: "His life will be the price!")
The chamber erupted into chants of execution. Glyphs burned one word into the air:
"⍀ ⟒ ⌇ ⍀ ⟒ ⟊."
(Translation: "War.")
Ethan's voice cracked as he shouted over them, "I am not your enemy! You attacked us—we never wanted this!"
But the crowd drowned him in fury.
And still, as the guards seized him, dragging him toward the execution platform, Lyra whispered under her breath, words forbidden yet undeniable:
"⋔ ⍜ ⊬ ⍀ ⟒ ⊬ ⍜⍀⟒⍀ ⊬ ⟒ ⊬⍜ ⟒ ⌖."
(Translation: "Not all humans are the enemy.")
The tribunal chamber of Wlex pulsed with life and fury. Bioluminescent vines crawled along walls of living stone, glowing brighter with each beat of the council's anger. Thousands of Vaelith citizens packed the tiered seats, their tall figures looming like pillars, their painted faces streaked with sorrow and rage.
At the center stood a single figure—small, fragile, alien to them all. Shackled in crystalline bonds, Ethan Cross lifted his head and faced the tribunal. His face was pale, his eyes hollow, but his spine remained straight. He was the last of Earth's astronauts. The others had perished in fire when the Wlex mistook their mission as invasion. Now, all the fury of an entire world fell on him alone.
The High Arbiter rose from his throne, nine feet tall, scars carved across his cheeks like lightning strikes. He slammed his staff against the stone, and glyphs flared across the walls. His voice thundered in alien tongue:
"⋏ ⍜ ⊬ ⬖⟒ ⏃⋔ ⍀ ⟒ ⏃ ⌇ ⟒."
(Translation: "He trespassed, and he brought death.")
The chamber howled as one. Ethan's heart pounded.
The Arbiter lifted his hand, and the vines above bloomed with light. History itself spilled into the air: visions of a rocket, old and rusted, breaking through Wlex's skies long ago. A band of Earth's rogue military men had come, seeking to claim the planet. They brought fire, weapons, death. Villages turned to ash. Families slaughtered. Half the Vaelith people annihilated in one war of conquest.
The chamber screamed as if the wounds were fresh.
Ethan staggered, his breath catching. "No… that wasn't us. I didn't know! I swear to God—I didn't know!" His voice echoed, desperate, but the Vaelith only hissed.
General Kael, commander of the Wlex armies, strode forward, armor glinting with bone and silver. His voice cut like steel.
"⍀ ⟒ ⊬ ⏃ ⌇ ⟒! ⬖⟒ ⍀⟒ ⊬ ⍀ ⟒ ⌇⟀⟒ ⋔ ⋏ ⟒ ⋏ ⍀ ⟒ ⋮ ⟊."
(Translation: "Punishment! He must pay for the scars left upon us!")
The crowd pounded their fists, the tribunal trembling with rage.
Ethan shouted above them, his voice raw. "I'm not them! I wasn't even born when this happened! I came to explore, to learn—we never meant to hurt you!"
The Arbiter's eyes narrowed. Glyphs burned around him.
"⟊ ⍀ ⟒ ⌇ ⊬⟒ ⊬ ⬖⟒ ⍀⟒ ⊬ ⟒ ⏃⍜ ⟒ ⍀⟒ ⍊."
(Translation: "Justice is not mercy.")
From her place beside her father, Lyra felt her chest tighten. Her people's fury thundered around her, but her eyes fixed on Ethan. He looked so small, so breakable, yet he stood, refusing to bow. And in his eyes she did not see the malice of the old invaders—she saw fear, confusion, and something else. Innocence.
Elder Veyna rose, her face etched with pain.
"⋔ ⍀ ⟒ ⏃ ⍜ ⍀ ⊬ ⟒ ⌇ ⟒ ⍜⋔ ⍀ ⟒ ⍀⟒ ⍀."
(Translation: "If we forgive, they will return.")
Elder Drath snarled, pounding his clawed hand against his throne.
"⋮ ⊬ ⟒ ⍀⟒ ⊬ ⟒ ⟒ ⍀ ⬖⟒ ⍀⟒ ⊬."
(Translation: "Blood must answer blood.")
The crowd roared in agreement. Spears struck stone. The vines glowed red. Ethan swayed on his feet, sweat streaking his brow.
Then, an older voice rose—Elder Sava, whose eyes were clouded with age but sharp with wisdom.
"⟒ ⍜ ⍜⋔ ⊬ ⟒ ⏃⍜ ⍀ ⟒ ⍜ ⟒ ⊬."
(Translation: "We punish the child for the father's crimes.")
The words fell like a crack of thunder. A hush spread, uneasy.
Ethan looked up at Sava, hope flickering in his eyes. "Yes! That's the truth! I'm not them—I'm not their war! Please… don't kill me for something I never did!"
General Kael snarled, stepping forward. His eyes burned with fire.
"⋔ ⍀ ⟒ ⍀⟒ ⟒ ⌇ ⊬⟒ ⊬ ⊬ ⍜ ⍀ ⟒ ⌇ ⟒ ⍀ ⊬ ⟒ ⌖."
(Translation: "Mercy makes weakness, weakness makes death.")
Lyra's hands trembled at her sides. She looked at her father, then at Ethan. In his eyes, she saw not weakness, but defiance—the same fire her people claimed as their own.
The Arbiter raised his staff high, glyphs bursting into flames across the chamber.
"⍀ ⟒ ⊬ ⏃ ⌇ ⟒ ⟒ ⏃⋔ ⟒ ⏃ ⌇ ⟒ ⟊!"
(Translation: "His life will be the price!")
The chamber erupted into chants of execution. Glyphs burned one word into the air:
"⍀ ⟒ ⌇ ⍀ ⟒ ⟊."
(Translation: "War.")
Ethan's voice cracked as he shouted over them, "I am not your enemy! You attacked us—we never wanted this!"
But the crowd drowned him in fury.
And still, as the guards seized him, dragging him toward the execution platform, Lyra whispered under her breath, words forbidden yet undeniable:
"⋔ ⍜ ⊬ ⍀ ⟒ ⊬ ⍜⍀⟒⍀ ⊬ ⟒ ⊬⍜ ⟒ ⌖."
(Translation: "Not all humans are the enemy.")
Her whisper vanished in the storm of voices. But deep inside, she knew it was only the beginning.