The purple sky darkened slower than Cinder expected. He sat in Theros's chair, watching the light fade through the torn curtain. His hands had stopped shaking an hour ago. The weight in his chest hadn't.
'Three sins. A loaf of bread. A punch. A lie.'
He'd killed people before. Not with the system. Just… surviving. A guard who grabbed him in an alley. A man who tried to take his boots while he slept. He'd used a brick, a broken bottle, his bare hands. Those deaths had weight too. But they were different. They were him or them.
This wasn't that.
'The system wants me to judge a kid who stole bread.'
He stood. His legs ached. His back ached. The spot behind his ear throbbed. He touched it. The mark was bigger now. He could feel it. A knot of raised skin that pulsed with his heartbeat.
Theros hadn't come back. Cinder didn't know if he would.
He moved to the door, opened it. The hallway was dark. The stairs groaned under his weight. The tavern below was empty. The fire in the hearth was cold. The woman who'd been behind the bar the night before was nowhere.
He walked out into the street.
The air was cold. Wet. The black stuff from the moons had dried on the cobblestones, leaving a greasy film. He walked east. His boots made soft sounds. The buildings on either side were dark. No lights. No voices.
'East gate. Twenty-two hundred hours. Vex Kallisto. Three sins.'
He checked the sky. The moons were rising. The bigger one first, then the smaller one following like a child after a parent. They leaked. A thin drizzle of black liquid that fell slow, like oil. He pulled his collar up. The drops hit his shoulders, sizzled faintly, burned through the fabric.
He walked faster.
---
The east gate was a stone arch big enough for wagons. Iron bars hung from chains, half-lowered. A guard post stood to one side, a small stone building with a single window. A torch burned outside, orange light flickering against the purple sky.
One guard stood by the gate. Young. Maybe eighteen. Dark hair, messy. His uniform was too big, the sleeves rolled up. He had a spear in one hand, but he wasn't holding it right. The butt rested on the ground. His shoulders were slumped. He looked bored and tired and young.
Cinder stopped fifty meters out. He stood in the shadow of a warehouse, watching.
The number appeared above the guard's head. Faint. Glowing. 3.
'Three.'
He waited. The system would give him the option soon. The same three choices. Execute. Torture. Spare.
'I can't torture him. He stole bread. He punched someone. He lied. That's… that's nothing.'
But the system didn't care. The system only saw the number. The weight of sin. Three sins meant three cycles. Three moments of suffering.
'And I'd feel one percent. That's nothing. Not compared to 847.'
But it wasn't about the percentage. It was about what the cycles would show him. A hungry kid stealing bread. A drunk swinging a fist. A scared soldier lying to save his skin.
'What would I see? What did he do that was so wrong?'
[JUDGEMENT READY.]
The words appeared. Red. Gold. White. The same three options.
[EXECUTE] [TORTURE] [SPARE]
Cinder stared at them.
'I can't execute him. He's a kid. He's just… he's just a fucking kid.'
But the system's warning echoed in his head. Failure to comply results in termination.
'If I spare him, what happens? The system said I get ten percent XP. I bear five percent of the victims' suffering over time. Five percent of three sins. That's nothing.'
He looked at SPARE. His finger hovered over it.
Then he looked at the guard again. The young man was yawning, rubbing his eyes. He shifted the spear to his other hand, looked around. He was alone out here. The other guards were probably in the post, drinking, sleeping, whatever they did.
'He's alone. No one would know. The system would know. I'd know.'
Cinder's jaw tightened.
'What am I even thinking? Of course I'm sparing him. There's no choice.'
He reached out to press SPARE.
The system spoke.
[SPARE SELECTED. JUDGEMENT DEFERRED. 10% XP GRANTED. KARMA BEARER BURDEN INCREASED BY 5% OF TARGET'S VICTIMS' SUFFERING.]
[WARNING: SPARING A TARGET DOES NOT REMOVE THEIR SIN. THE SIN REMAINS. THE DEBT REMAINS. YOU HAVE CHOSEN TO CARRY A PORTION OF IT.]
[ADDITIONAL NOTE: THE TARGET'S SIN COUNT WILL NOT DECREASE. THEY MAY SIN AGAIN. THAT BURDEN WILL ALSO BE YOURS, SHOULD YOU SPARE THEM AGAIN.]
Cinder's hand dropped.
'What does that mean? If I spare him, he still has his sins? And if he sins again, I carry more?'
He looked at the guard. Vex. The name sat in his head. Vex Kallisto. Three sins. Maybe tomorrow he'd have four. Maybe he'd do something worse. And Cinder would carry that too. Every time he spared him.
'That's how it works. The system wants me to kill. It wants me to torture. It punishes me for mercy.'
He felt the weight settle in his chest. Not heavy. Not yet. Just there. A small stone where there hadn't been one before.
He stepped out of the shadow.
Vex looked up. His hand tightened on the spear. His eyes went to Cinder's face, then to his torn shirt, then to the burn marks on his shoulders from the black rain.
"Hey," Vex said. "You can't be here. Gate's closed."
Cinder kept walking. Ten meters now. Five.
"I said stop!" Vex raised the spear. His hands were shaking. His voice cracked. "Stop or I'll—"
Cinder stopped two meters away. He looked at the spear. The point was wobbling.
"You gonna use that?" Cinder asked.
Vex's eyes went wide. "What?"
"The spear. You gonna use it, or are you gonna keep shaking until it falls out of your hand?"
Vex's face flushed. His jaw clenched. He tried to steady the spear. It didn't work.
"Who the hell are you?" Vex demanded.
Cinder didn't answer. He looked at the number above Vex's head. Three. Still three. The system hadn't taken them. It couldn't. Spare didn't remove sins. It just let them keep walking.
'He doesn't even know. He doesn't know what I could've done to him.'
"You look like shit," Vex said. His voice was trying to be tough, but it cracked on the last word. "You get jumped or something?"
Cinder touched the burn marks on his shoulder. "Something like that."
Vex lowered the spear. Just a little. His shoulders relaxed. Not because he wasn't scared. Because he was too tired to stay scared.
"You need a healer?" Vex asked. "There's one in the barracks. She's probably asleep, but I can—"
"No."
Vex blinked. "No? You've got burns all over you, man. Those are gonna get infected."
Cinder looked at the gate. The iron bars were rusted. The chains were old. He could see the city beyond. Dark. Quiet. The occasional light in a window.
"What's your name?" Cinder asked.
Vex hesitated. "Why?"
"Just asking."
Vex stared at him for a long moment. Then he shrugged. "Vex."
"How old are you, Vex?"
"Nineteen. Why?"
'He's nineteen. He looks sixteen. Same as me. Or maybe I look sixteen. Hard to tell anymore.'
"You like being a guard?" Cinder asked.
Vex laughed. It was a short, hollow sound. "Like it? No. It's a job. Keeps me fed. Keeps me out of the gutters." He looked at Cinder. "Mostly."
'He could've been me. If I'd taken a different path. If the truck hadn't hit me. If I'd ended up here with a uniform and a spear instead of a gutter.'
"You ever think about leaving?" Cinder asked. "Just walking away. Going somewhere else."
Vex's face went still. "You a deserter? Is that what this is? You trying to get me to run?"
"No."
"Then what do you want?" Vex's voice was sharp now. Scared. "You show up out of nowhere, looking like you crawled out of a grave, asking me all these questions. What do you want?"
Cinder looked at him. Really looked. A scared kid with a too-big uniform and a spear he didn't know how to use. A kid who stole bread and threw punches and told lies to stay alive.
'He's not evil. He's just… alive. Trying to stay alive.'
"Nothing," Cinder said. "Just passing through."
He turned and walked away.
"Hey!" Vex called after him. "You can't just— you need a healer, man! Those burns!"
Cinder didn't stop. He walked into the shadows, back toward the narrow streets, the damp walls, the places where no one would find him.
Behind him, Vex's voice faded. "Crazy bastard. You're gonna die out there."
'Maybe. But not tonight.'
He walked until the gate was just a small orange light in the distance. Then he stopped. He leaned against a wall, let his head fall back. The purple sky was clear now. The moons had stopped leaking. They just hung there, watching.
The weight in his chest was still there. Small. Quiet. But it wasn't going away.
'I spared him. I did the right thing. Didn't I?'
The system didn't answer. It never answered questions like that.
He closed his eyes. Just for a second.
---
A hand on his shoulder.
Cinder's eyes snapped open. His hand went to the brick at his feet, fingers curling around it.
"Easy." Theros's voice. Old. Tired. "Easy. It's me."
Cinder let go of the brick. His heart was hammering.
Theros crouched beside him. His face was hard to read in the dim light, but his eyes were sharp.
"You spared him," Theros said.
"How do you know?"
"Because you're not dead." Theros sat down next to him, his back against the wall. He let out a long breath. "If you'd executed him, the system would've hit you harder. You'd be somewhere else. A bar. A brothel. Somewhere with noise to drown out the screams."
Cinder didn't say anything.
"If you'd tortured him," Theros continued, "you'd be in an alley somewhere, throwing up, trying to remember your own name."
He looked at Cinder. "But you spared him. So you're here. Sitting in the dark. Thinking about what you did."
"I didn't do anything."
"You did." Theros's voice was quiet. "You made a choice. The hardest one. The one that costs you."
Cinder looked at his hands. They were steady now. The cracked skin was healing.
"He had three sins," Cinder said. "Bread. A punch. A lie."
Theros nodded. "I know."
"The system wanted me to kill him. Or torture him. For that."
"The system wants a lot of things," Theros said. "It doesn't care about intent. It doesn't care about circumstance. It just sees numbers."
He reached into his coat, pulled out a small leather pouch. He undid the strings, tipped something into his palm. A piece of dried meat. Old. Tough. He broke it in half, gave one piece to Cinder.
"You did the right thing," Theros said. "But the system's going to punish you for it. Every time you spare someone, you carry their weight. It builds. It rots you from the inside."
Cinder chewed the meat. It tasted like nothing.
"How long?" Cinder asked. "Before it gets bad."
Theros was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "That depends. How many do you plan to spare?"
Cinder thought about the question. About Vex. About the woman in the cell. About all the people he hadn't met yet. The ones with numbers over their heads. The ones the system would send him to judge.
'I can't kill them all. I can't torture them all. But I can't spare them all either. Not if it kills me.'
"I don't know," Cinder said.
Theros nodded slowly. "That's an honest answer."
He stood. His joints popped. He held out a hand.
"Come on. There's a place I know. Quiet. Safe. You can sleep there."
Cinder took the hand. Theros pulled him up.
They walked together through the dark streets. Theros's limp was worse now. He leaned on Cinder more than he'd admit.
"The soldier," Theros said after a while. "The one you spared. His name's Vex. He's a good kid. Dumb. Scared. But good."
"You know him?"
"I know everyone." Theros's voice was dry. "Forty years in this city. You learn things."
They turned a corner. A narrow alley. A door at the end. Theros pushed it open. Inside was a room. Smaller than the last one. But warmer. A fire crackled in a small hearth. A cot against the wall. A table with bread and water.
"Sleep," Theros said. "Tomorrow, we talk. About the system. About the Shadow God. About what you're becoming."
Cinder sat on the cot. It was hard. The blanket was thin. He didn't care.
Theros sat in a chair by the fire. He pulled out a pipe, packed it with something that smelled like dried leaves. He lit it with a twig from the fire. The smoke curled up toward the ceiling.
"Theros," Cinder said.
"Mm?"
"Why are you helping me?"
Theros puffed on his pipe. The smoke swirled.
"Because you spared him," Theros said. "You had power. You had the system telling you to hurt him. And you didn't."
He looked at Cinder. The firelight caught his face, lit up the old scars, the tired eyes.
"That's rare. Most Judges… they break fast. They start seeing the numbers and they stop seeing the people. They kill because it's easier. They torture because it feels good."
He tapped the pipe against the hearth. Ash fell into the fire.
"You didn't. Not tonight."
Cinder lay back on the cot. The ceiling was cracked. Water stains spread across the wood like maps of places he'd never been.
'I didn't kill him. But I wanted to. When the system showed me the options, for a second… I wanted to see what three cycles looked like. I wanted to know.'
He closed his eyes.
'What's happening to me?'
The fire crackled. Theros's pipe smoke drifted. The room was warm.
Cinder slept.
---
He dreamed of numbers. Thousands of them. Floating above a crowd of faces. Each one pulsing, waiting.
And in the center of the crowd, a boy with dark hair and a too-big uniform. His number was three. Small. Faint.
Cinder reached for him. The boy turned. His face was Cinder's face. His eyes were Cinder's eyes.
"You should've killed me," the boy said.
Cinder woke.
The fire had burned down to embers. Theros was asleep in his chair, his head back, his mouth open. His pipe was cold on the table.
Cinder sat up. His hands were steady. His chest was tight.
He looked at the window. The purple sky was lightening. Dawn was coming.
'One day. I've been here one day. And I already feel like I'm losing myself.'
He stood. His legs held. He walked to the window, looked out at the street below. Empty. Quiet. The black rain had dried on the cobblestones.
[DAILY REPORT.]
[PETTY JUDGE CINDER ORIGIN]
[JUDGEMENTS COMPLETED: 1]
[TOTAL SIN PROCESSED: 847]
[CURRENT BURDEN: 1.25%]
[NEXT TARGET: PENDING.]
The words faded. Cinder stared at the spot where they'd been.
'One day. 847 sins. 1.25 percent burden.'
He thought about Vex. About the three sins he'd chosen to carry. A fraction of a fraction. A pebble on a mountain.
'How long until the mountain crushes me?'
The sky lightened. The moons faded. The city woke. Voices in the distance. A cart rolling over stones. A dog barking.
Cinder turned from the window. Theros was still asleep. The old man looked smaller in the morning light. Frailer. The coat hung off him like it was made for someone bigger.
Cinder moved to the table. The bread was there. The water. He took the bread, wrapped it in a cloth, put it in his pocket. He left the water.
He looked at Theros one more time. Then he walked to the door, opened it, stepped out.
The alley was cold. The walls were wet. He walked to the end, turned onto a wider street. People were moving now. A woman with a basket. A man pulling a cart. A group of children running, laughing, their feet splashing through puddles of black rain.
Cinder walked among them. No one looked at him. He was just another face. Just another gutter rat trying to survive.
He found a spot by a wall where the sun—if you could call it sun—hit. The purple light was weak, but it was warm. He sat with his back against the stone, pulled out the bread, ate it slowly.
'What now? The system's going to give me another target. Another number. Another choice. Kill. Torture. Spare. Every day. Every night. Until I'm dead or broken.'
He looked at his hands. The cracked skin was almost healed. The shaking had stopped. But he knew it would come back. The next time he judged, it would come back. And the time after that. And the time after that.
'Theros said I'd learn. Or I'd die. Maybe both.'
He finished the bread. The purple light was stronger now. The city was awake. The noise was growing. Shouts. Hammers. The clang of metal.
He stood. Dusted off his pants. He didn't know where he was going. He just knew he couldn't stay here. Couldn't sit and wait for the system to tell him what to do.
'I need to understand this. The system. The Shadow God. The rules. If I'm going to survive, I need to know what I'm dealing with.'
He thought about Theros. The old man knew things. He'd said they'd talk today. But Cinder had walked out. He'd left without saying anything.
'He'll find me. Or I'll find him. Either way.'
He started walking. North. Toward the center of the city. Toward the noise. Toward the people.
A voice behind him.
"Hey! Wait!"
Cinder turned.
Vex was running toward him. The young guard. Still in his too-big uniform, still looking scared and tired and young. His spear was gone. His face was flushed.
Cinder stopped. Waited.
Vex reached him, bent over, hands on his knees, breathing hard.
"You— you just—" He straightened up. "You can't just walk away. You need a healer. Those burns are gonna—"
"They're fine."
Vex stared at him. "They're not fine. I saw them. They're gonna get infected. You're gonna die."
Cinder looked at the burns on his shoulders. The black rain had eaten through the fabric. The skin underneath was red, blistered, ugly. He hadn't even noticed.
'He's right. They're not fine.'
"There's a healer," Vex said. "Her name's Mira. She's good. She'll fix you up. For free. She fixes everyone for free."
Cinder looked at Vex's face. The kid was earnest. Scared. But earnest.
'Why does he care? He doesn't know me.'
"Why?" Cinder asked.
Vex blinked. "Why what?"
"Why do you care if I die?"
Vex's mouth opened. Closed. He looked at the ground, then back at Cinder.
"I don't know," he said. "You just… you showed up. Asked me questions. Walked away. Most people don't do that. Most people just…" He shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought maybe you needed help."
Cinder stared at him for a long moment. The number above Vex's head was still there. Still three. Still faint.
'He's a good kid. Stupid. But good.'
"Fine," Cinder said.
Vex's face lit up. "Yeah? You'll come?"
"Show me."
Vex grinned. It was the first time Cinder had seen him smile. It made him look younger. Almost innocent.
"This way. It's not far."
He started walking. Fast. Eager. Cinder followed.
'What am I doing? I should be finding Theros. I should be learning about the system. Instead I'm following a kid to a healer I don't need.'
But his shoulders burned. The blisters were spreading. The pain was starting to break through the numbness.
'Maybe I do need it.'
They walked through the streets. Vex talked the whole way. Fast. Nervous. Words spilling out like he was afraid of silence.
"—so I've only been a guard for three months. It's not great, but it's a job. You know? Better than the gutters. My dad was a guard. Before he died. So I figured—"
"You talk a lot," Cinder said.
Vex's mouth snapped shut. His face went red.
"Sorry," he mumbled. "I just… I get nervous. When I'm nervous I talk."
"Why are you nervous?"
Vex glanced at him. "You're… you're kind of intense. No offense."
Cinder almost smiled. Almost.
'Intense. That's one word for it.'
They turned a corner. A small building. White stone. A blue door. A sign above it with a symbol Cinder didn't recognize. A hand. Open. Reaching.
"This is it," Vex said. "Mira's place. She's probably up. She's always up."
He knocked. Three times. Quick.
The door opened.
A girl stood in the doorway. Young. Maybe seventeen. Dark hair pulled back. A white apron over a simple dress. Her hands were clean. Her face was open. Her eyes were kind.
She looked at Vex, then at Cinder. Her eyes went to his shoulders, to the burns, to the torn shirt.
"Oh," she said. "Come in. Quickly."
She stepped aside. Vex walked in. Cinder hesitated.
'What am I doing? I don't need help. I don't need—'
His shoulders throbbed. The blisters were weeping. The pain was sharp now.
He stepped inside.
The room was small. Clean. A table in the center with jars of herbs, rolls of bandages, bowls of water. A fireplace with a kettle. A window with pale purple light.
Mira moved to the table, started pulling things from the shelves.
"Sit," she said. "Let me see."
Cinder sat. She moved behind him, peeled the torn fabric away from his shoulders. He winced. The fabric was stuck to the blisters.
"This is from the moons," she said. Her voice was soft. Matter-of-fact. "The black rain. You should have covered it."
"Didn't have anything to cover it with."
She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "I see."
She worked quickly. Cleaned the burns with something that stung. Applied a paste that smelled like mint and something else. Wrapped them in clean bandages. Her hands were gentle. Steady.
Vex stood by the door, watching. He was quiet for once.
When Mira finished, she stepped back. "You'll need to come back tomorrow. Change the bandages. Keep them clean."
Cinder nodded. He looked at the bandages. White. Clean. They stood out against his dirty skin, his torn clothes.
"Thank you," he said.
Mira smiled. It was a small smile. Genuine.
"You're welcome."
She looked at Vex. "Is he a friend of yours?"
Vex opened his mouth, closed it. He looked at Cinder. "I… yeah. Yeah, he's a friend."
Cinder didn't correct him.
He stood. The bandages were tight. The pain was already less.
"Come back tomorrow," Mira said. "I'll check the burns."
Cinder nodded. He walked to the door, opened it. The purple light hit his face.
"Wait," Vex said. He followed Cinder out. The door closed behind them.
"You're not gonna say anything?" Vex asked.
"About what?"
"About… I don't know. Anything. You just sat there. Let her help you. Didn't even say your name."
Cinder looked at him. "My name's Cinder."
Vex blinked. "Cinder. Okay. I'm Vex."
"I know."
"How do you know?"
Cinder didn't answer. He started walking.
Vex followed. "You're weird, you know that? Like really weird. But you're not… I don't know. You're not bad."
'He has no idea. No idea what I am. What I did last night. What the system wants me to do to him.'
Cinder stopped. Turned.
"Go back to your post," he said. "Don't follow me."
Vex's face fell. "I just thought—"
"Don't."
Vex stared at him. His jaw worked. His hands clenched.
"Fine," he said. "Fine. Whatever."
He turned and walked away. His shoulders were hunched. His steps were fast.
Cinder watched him go. The number above his head was fading. Three. Still three.
'He'll be back. He's too stubborn not to.'
He turned and walked the other way. Back toward the narrow streets. Back toward the shadows.
The weight in his chest was still there. The small stone from sparing Vex. It hadn't grown. But it hadn't gone away either.
'This is my life now. Carrying stones. One at a time. Until I'm buried.'
He walked faster. The purple sky was bright now. The city was loud. But in his head, there was only silence.
And in the silence, a whisper.
[He's lying. The healer. She's not what she seems.]
Cinder stopped. The whisper faded. He looked back toward the white building with the blue door.
'What does that mean? What's wrong with her?'
No answer. Just the whisper's echo.
He stood in the street, the noise of the city washing over him. His shoulders throbbed under the clean bandages. His chest was tight.
'One day. And already nothing makes sense.'
He started walking again. Not toward anything. Just walking. Trying to stay ahead of the weight.