Judge Of The Dead A Soul's Verdict

Chapter 2: The Second Soul

The hall had returned to silence after Marcus Hale’s judgment, yet it was not empty. The echoes of his cries lingered in the stone pillars, seeping into the air like smoke. Lyra’s hands still trembled slightly, and she could feel her chest tighten with the weight of what she had witnessed. Kaelen remained on his throne, his face a mask of calm, yet even she could sense the careful tension in his shoulders. Every judgment mattered. Every soul was a story, a life, and even a fleeting moment of weakness could shift the balance.

The shelves of bottles behind Kaelen pulsed faintly. Each one contained a life judged, a verdict delivered, a soul either saved or lost. Lyra had counted them before. Hundreds, thousands, perhaps more. She did not know how many, for time in this place did not follow mortal rules. Some souls seemed older than centuries, some young, bright, and trembling. She wondered if each one had felt the same fear Marcus had. She wondered if Kaelen ever truly felt it.

Aurelius’s voice had faded, but the presence of authority remained. It pressed down invisibly, reminding both of them that judgment was not their choice. It was not mercy. It was duty. Lyra shivered and folded her hands tighter. Kaelen’s eyes moved toward the far door as it began to form again, like a shadow materialising from the void.

This time, the soul was different. A young woman entered, barely in her twenties. Her dress was simple, torn slightly at the edges. Her hair, a soft brown, fell unevenly across her shoulders. Her eyes were wide, shining with tears she had not yet cried, and her hands clutched a small bundle close to her chest. She looked around the hall with awe and terror in equal measure.

Lyra’s voice came gently. “Please, step forward.”

The young woman hesitated. Her bundle shifted slightly in her arms. She swallowed hard and whispered, “I… I am not ready. I did not mean to—”

Kaelen’s voice cut through, calm and unwavering. “Step forward. You stand here because your time has ended. The hall will judge you.”

The woman trembled. Her gaze flicked between Kaelen and Lyra. She stepped forward slowly, her bare feet making no sound on the polished floor. Lyra noticed the bundle shake in her arms. She had not seen one yet carrying something from life with them.

“Your name,” Kaelen said.

“Seraphine,” the young woman whispered. “Seraphine Valen.”

Kaelen nodded. “The mirror will reveal all. Step closer.”

A silver mirror appeared before Seraphine, taller than her, smooth as water, reflecting not only her image but her soul.

The mirror began to show her life. First, a child laughing in a sunlit garden, the wind blowing through her hair. Seraphine’s mother was kneeling beside her, guiding her hands to plant seeds. The joy in her eyes was pure, untainted by worry or fear. Lyra felt a pang of hope for this soul.

But the mirror did not linger on innocence for long. It shifted, showing Seraphine at fourteen, wandering the streets at night, searching for food and warmth. Her father was gone. Her mother had left her too soon. She learned to survive with sharp wits and quick feet, stealing what she could without thought of right or wrong. Every decision had consequences, and the mirror showed them all.

Seraphine’s lips trembled. “I… I had to survive,” she whispered, almost pleading.

Kaelen said nothing. The mirror continued.

At seventeen, she had found love for the first time, a boy who held her hand and promised a better life. They had shared quiet nights under the stars, whispered dreams of a life together, a family, happiness. Lyra noticed her hands soften as she held the bundle closer, as though imagining a life she could never touch again.

The mirror then darkened, revealing her failures. A theft gone wrong, a lie told to protect someone else that caused harm, a friend betrayed in her desperation. Her face twisted with guilt, her hands shaking as she watched herself make choices she could not take back.

“No,” Seraphine cried. “I tried to be good. I tried to help them. I never wanted… I never wanted to hurt anyone.”

Lyra’s throat tightened. She wanted to reach out, to comfort her. But Kaelen’s steady gaze held the hall in balance. No mercy came before judgment.

The mirror displayed her final days. A fire in a small apartment building. Seraphine ran into the flames, screaming, trying to save a child trapped inside. She emerged with burns across her arms and legs, coughing, bloodied, yet alive long enough to see the collapse of the building take the life of the child she had tried to save.

Seraphine collapsed to her knees. “It was not enough. I… I tried.”

Kaelen’s voice cut through the chamber. “Your intentions were noble, but the outcome matters. The mirror reflects the soul, and every weight it carries.”

The shadows on the floor began to stir. The hall pulsed as though breathing. Aurelius’s unseen presence pressed down, approving the measure of the trial.

“Kaelen,” his voice resonated from above, “do not falter. She must face the truth as all must.”

Kaelen lifted his hand slowly. The mirror rippled. Seraphine’s eyes widened. Her small bundle fell from her arms. It contained a collection of notes, scribbled letters, and small mementoes she had kept from life. Memories, pieces of herself she had tried to carry into death. They floated briefly in the air, glowing faintly before dissolving.

The floor opened beneath her feet. Shadows swirled, reaching for her, wrapping gently but firmly around her legs. She screamed, reaching for Lyra, for Kaelen, for anything that would save her from the inevitable.

Lyra wanted to step forward, to defy Kaelen, to fight the rules of the hall. But she could not. Every instinct pulled her back. Her voice caught in her throat. She whispered, “I am sorry.”

Seraphine’s body was lifted, pulled gently but firmly into the darkness. Her cries echoed through the chamber, fading slowly until silence returned.

The floor sealed itself, leaving the hall undisturbed once more. Lyra pressed a hand to her chest, her heart racing. She had never felt the loss so sharply, nor the despair so tangible. Each soul that passed here left more than emptiness. It left a weight.

Kaelen’s hand rested on the counter again. His expression did not change. His voice, calm and measured, finally broke the silence. “Another soul weighed. Another truth revealed.”

The shelves pulsed faintly behind him. Bottles glowed with quiet light, each representing a life already judged. Lyra shivered, realising that each bottle contained not just a soul, but a story, a sequence of choices, hopes, fears, and failings.

The door at the far end of the hall began to shimmer. Another figure was forming in the void. Lyra’s chest tightened. Another soul was coming.

The hall was endless, and the work unceasing.