The rune above her door glowed faint gold, shaped like a set of scales. Rina smirked at it, tilting her head.
"Scales, huh? Guess I'm about to be weighed and found guilty."
She ran a hand through her short dark hair, shrugged, and pushed the door open. The world spun around her, and when her vision cleared, she was no longer in the Citadel.
She stood in the middle of a grand marble hall.
Its ceilings arched impossibly high, banners of crimson and black draping down like judgmental eyes. Massive stone statues lined either side of the chamber, each one depicting faceless judges with hammers in their hands. Torches burned with steady white fire, casting no shadows.
At the far end, a throne-like bench loomed above her. Upon it sat a judge cloaked in obsidian robes, face hidden behind a golden mask. Around her, a gallery of spectral figures materialized, each whispering as they stared down at her.
A voice thundered through the hall:
"Defendant Rina Ashvale. You stand accused. Your crimes are many. Today, the Citadel shall deliver judgment."
Rina froze. Her last name. The one she never spoke. The one she had buried along with the life she had abandoned.
She forced a grin. "Well, at least you got the right girl. Saves us all some time."
The masked judge slammed his gavel. The sound shook the air.
"You have stolen from the desperate. Lied to the trusting. Betrayed allies for coin. And when your family needed you most, you walked away. How do you plead?"
Her grin faltered.
"I plead…" she began, then stopped. What could she say? Deny it? Lie again? No, this wasn't a mark, or a guard to trick, or a tavern drunk to swindle. The Helm saw straight through her.
She clenched her fists. "I plead guilty."
The whispering voices in the gallery grew louder, like a storm. Shadows detached from the statues, forming into armored bailiffs that marched toward her. Chains of molten iron dragged behind them.
The judge's voice boomed: "Then sentence is death."
The chains snapped at her wrists. Rina leapt back, daggers flashing into her hands. She cut through one set, sparks flying, but another lashed around her ankle, dragging her down.
"Nope, not today," she growled, twisting into a roll and hurling one dagger into the eye of the shadow-bailiff. It shrieked and dissolved, but three more closed in.
The trial wasn't about fighting them, she realized. Not entirely. Each blow she struck, each chain she dodged, the judge spoke again—each word a dagger of memory.
"You left your sister in the slums while you fled to safety.""You broke your oath to your crew for a heavier purse.""You told yourself survival excused anything. But survival is not the same as honor."
Her chest heaved. She snarled as she fought, but deep down, the words struck home. She had abandoned her sister. She had betrayed friends. She had lived only for herself.
The shadows overwhelmed her, forcing her to her knees. Chains bound her arms behind her back, forcing her head low.
The judge rose from his bench, gavel in hand. "You are unworthy. You shall be erased from the Citadel."
The gavel lifted.
Rina laughed.
It was a raw, ragged sound, but it cut through the silence. "Erase me? You think I don't know what I've done? You think I don't feel it every damn day? I'm not proud of it, but it's mine. My past. My mistakes. I'm done running from them."
Her eyes burned with defiance. "Yeah, I'm guilty. But guilty doesn't mean useless. It means I know exactly how far I've fallen—and how hard I'll fight not to fall again."
The chains cracked. One by one, they shattered as if her defiance alone broke them. She rose to her feet, daggers blazing with sudden golden fire.
The judge hesitated, gavel frozen mid-swing. For the first time, the golden mask tilted—like it was watching, like it was listening.
Rina twirled her blades. "Now… is the part where I take back my verdict."
She lunged. The daggers pierced straight into the mask. Light exploded across the hall. The spectral gallery screamed and vanished, the statues crumbled to dust, and the judge dissolved into nothingness.
When the glare faded, a single crystal hovered before her, glowing with pale gold.
She caught it, breath ragged, then pressed it to her chest. It sank into her, filling her with a strange warmth—not absolution, not forgiveness, but something steadier. A reminder.
The Helm's voice whispered in her mind:
"Judgment accepted. The Trial of Justice is complete."
The hall melted away. She stood once more in the Citadel's chamber of doors. Across the way, Lys was already waiting, bow in hand. Carlos leaned on his sword, eyes still haunted but resolute.
Rina gave them a grin, though her hands still trembled. "So… anyone else get put on trial by a bunch of spooky ghosts, or is that just me?"
Neither answered, but for the first time in a long time, Rina didn't care.
She had faced judgment. And she was still standing.