He only stopped after putting enough distance between himself and the palace.
He was in the middle of nowhere, just an open stretch of land—empty and still. This was where the Field of Judgment lay.
He took a slow breath, grounding himself, making sure he didn't mess up. The Field of Judgment waited, and so did the Three Judges, who decided the fate of every soul that entered this place.
Using the edge of his own nail, he dug into his finger until blood came out slow.
Just then, the air went quiet, still. Like nothing was near—not even a single soul. Just filled with heavy silence, like the Underworld knew what was about to happen.
He held out his hand.
Blood gathered at his fingertip and dropped to the ground. The earth gave a faint hiss, like that one drop was exactly what it needed.
He lowered his voice, not for secrecy, but it looked and sounded cooler in his head. It didn't need to be shouted. It only needed to be spoken.
