Judge Of The Dead A Soul's Verdict

Chapter 4: The Fourth Soul

The hall waited, silent and eternal. The echoes of Marcus Hale, Seraphine Valen, and Elias Crow lingered faintly, fading but never entirely gone. The polished floors reflected the dim lanterns, their light trembling like hesitant stars in the void. The shelves behind Kaelen pulsed softly, each bottle containing a life already judged, a soul measured, a story sealed.

Lyra pressed her hands lightly to the counter. She could feel the weight of the hall pressing on her chest, invisible but unmistakable. Every judgment left residue, and every residue shaped her own soul in ways she did not yet understand. She wondered if she would ever become numb to the cries and pleas of those who entered the hall, or if the echoes would follow her until the end of her own existence.

Kaelen remained on his throne, his eyes fixed on the shelves. Even though Lyra had seen him render countless judgments, she never saw him falter. His posture was perfect, his face carved into calm, yet there was an intensity beneath it that few could recognise. He was aware of every movement, every breath in the hall, every subtle shift in the energy that connected the souls, the mirrors, and the shadows that swirled unseen.

The far door shimmered again. It did not open like mortal doors but folded into existence from the void. A soul approached, stepping carefully as though testing the air for resistance.

This soul was a man older than Elias, younger than Marcus. His hair was streaked with grey, and his hands bore the marks of hard labour. His clothes were simple and worn, a faint smell of smoke and sweat lingering around him. His eyes were tired but alert, scanning the hall with a mixture of fear and resignation.

Lyra’s voice broke the silence. “Please, step forward.”

The man hesitated. His lips moved, forming words before he could release them. “I… I do not belong here. I was… I was saving people. I thought I was doing the right thing.” His voice trembled, edged with guilt and disbelief.

Kaelen’s gaze did not waver. “Every soul arrives here for judgment. Your deeds and intentions will be weighed. Step forward.”

The man swallowed, nodding, and advanced slowly. His eyes flicked toward Lyra, as if seeking comfort, yet he quickly turned away. His name escaped him for a moment, lost in the chaos of memory, before he whispered finally, “I am Damien Corwin.”

Kaelen’s hand rose. A silver mirror formed before Damien, smooth and glowing faintly. “Your soul will be revealed,” Kaelen said. “Step closer.”

Damien approached. His reflection shimmered and dissolved into the first memories of his life.

He was a boy running through fields with his younger brother, sunlight washing over them as they laughed. Their mother’s voice called them home for dinner, and their father lifted them onto his shoulders, spinning them until they fell to the ground, dizzy and laughing. Damien’s chest tightened as he watched the joy of his childhood, the sense of safety and warmth he had once known.

The mirror shifted. Adolescence arrived, showing Damien learning responsibility and duty. He worked tirelessly, helping neighbours, protecting younger children from harm, and keeping his family afloat during hard times. But the mirror did not ignore his flaws. It showed moments of pride that overshadowed compassion, decisions made for personal gain that unintentionally hurt those he loved.

“I only wanted to do good,” Damien whispered. “I only wanted to protect them.”

The mirror continued. At nineteen, he had joined the fire brigade, rushing into flames to save lives. He had lost friends, suffered burns, and endured moments where fear had almost frozen him completely. He had laughed, he had cried, he had argued with those he loved over small things that seemed monumental at the time. The mirror reflected all of it, the small victories, the mistakes, the heartbreaks, and the brief joys that had marked his path.

Lyra noticed his hands tremble as he reached out to the mirror. He wanted desperately to grasp something from the past, to hold onto a second chance.

Then the mirror darkened. A recent memory appeared: a building on fire, smoke thick in the air, people trapped inside. Damien had run in, rescuing some but not all. The child he could not save, the friend who perished beside him, the screams and cries replayed endlessly in the mirror. He fell to his knees, gasping.

“I did everything I could,” he cried. “I tried to save them all. I did my best.”

Kaelen’s voice was calm, final. “Your soul is weighed. The mirror reflects the truth of the life you led. Not the intentions, not the hopes, but the consequences. You acted with courage, yet even courage has limits. You cannot undo what has been done.”

A shadow swirled beneath Damien’s feet, rising slowly. It wrapped around his legs, lifting him gently but firmly. The memories of his life floated above him, glowing faintly. He screamed, reaching toward Lyra. “Please, no! Not yet! I am not ready!”

Lyra pressed her hands to her chest, tears forming in her eyes. She wanted to intervene, to reach across the void and pull him back, but the hall would not allow it. She whispered, “I am sorry,” her voice trembling.

The shadows carried Damien into the void. His cries echoed, fading into silence. The floor sealed itself again, leaving the hall smooth and untouched. The shelves glowed faintly as if acknowledging another verdict.

Kaelen remained seated, silent, eyes scanning the bottles. Lyra exhaled shakily. Each soul left traces, a subtle weight pressing down. She realised fully now that judgment was not merely about right or wrong; it was about the balance of countless lives, every choice measured and accounted for.

The far door shimmered once more. Another soul would enter. The hall was eternal. The work is unending. Yet Lyra steeled herself. She knew she would continue, carrying every story, every life, every consequence with her. She would endure, as Kaelen endured, as Aurelius demanded.

The lanterns flickered in a slow rhythm. The shadows stretched. The bottles pulsed. And the hall waited, patient, for the next soul.