Merek's house stood near the heart of the city, tall and proud with windows glowing through the rain. Servants bustled inside, lamps flickered, wine flowed. It was not the home of a man burdened by conscience, but of one fattened by the lives he had ruined.
The tether pulled me again. My feet splashed through the mud, carrying me to his gate. The guards stood stiff against the storm, but their eyes slid past me as though I were air. I walked among them unseen, the night itself opening its doors for me.
Inside, laughter carried from the dining hall. Merek's voice rang above the others, smooth and loud, telling stories of his victories in court. I heard the familiar cadence, the same tone he used to turn lies into weapons. Each chuckle from his lips stoked the fire in my chest.
The Judgment Screen flared before my eyes.
Proceed with judgment?
I stepped into the hall. He sat at the head of the table, wine dripping from his beard, his hand wrapped around a goblet of silver. His eyes fell on me, but he did not react, no one did. The servants, the guests, the guards, none saw me. Only Merek's smile faltered, only his breath caught.
"Yes," I whispered.
The air trembled. The screen split apart into shapes I had not seen before scales, a gavel, a burning brand. My chest tightened. I reached for the gavel.
The hall shook with thunder. Merek rose, his goblet clattering to the floor. He clutched his throat, gasping, his eyes bulging with terror. He stumbled back, knocking plates aside, scattering food across the floor. His guests froze, confusion breaking into panic as their host shrieked, but none saw me, none saw the screen.
Flames erupted along his arms, searing his skin, etching the word LIAR into his flesh. He clawed at his body, tearing his own skin, screaming until his voice broke into a ragged whisper.
The smell filled the hall, burnt meat and smoke. The guests fled, overturning chairs, spilling wine. Servants wailed.
Merek collapsed before the table, his eyes rolling back, his charred body twitching once, then still.
The screen pulsed:
Judgment complete. Sin ended.
I stood in the chaos, unseen, untouched, my heart pounding with horror and something darker. They would call it plague, curse, divine wrath. But I knew.
I was no lawyer anymore. No man bound by books and oaths.
I was judgment itself.
As I left, I heard the whispers begin, carried on the storm. A name forming in the mouths of the people, frightened and awed.
The Black Judge.