The room always reset itself. After a soul was judged the mirror would fade, the floor would seal, the chair would slide quietly back into place. It was as if nothing had ever happened. The silence filled in all the cracks.
Kaelen stood behind the counter, still as stone, waiting. Lyra poured the last of the water into a glass and set it aside. Her hands shook slightly though she tried to hide it. Marcus Hale had screamed when the void took him. Evelyn Cross had sobbed with relief when the light swallowed her. The echoes of both still seemed to hang in the air.
Lyra glanced at Kaelen. His eyes were steady as ever. He gave no sign that either verdict had touched him.
But Lyra was not fooled. She had worked at his side long enough to know that the silence around him was never empty.
The door opened again.
This time a tall man entered, shoulders square, his stride heavy with the rhythm of marching. Even in plain clothes he carried himself like a soldier. His jaw was set, his eyes sharp.
"My name is Daniel Kade," he said, his voice rough but controlled. "What is this place?"
Lyra stepped forward, offering the same calm she gave to every lost soul. "Please, sit. You will understand soon."
Daniel sat without hesitation. He placed his hands neatly on the table in front of him, like a man preparing for interrogation. He did not look afraid. He looked ready.
Kaelen spoke. His tone was flat, measured, and final. "You are dead."
Daniel did not flinch. He stared at Kaelen for a long moment and then gave a short nod. "That makes sense. Mortar fire got close. I did not hear the one that finished the job."
Lyra blinked. Most souls denied or begged when they first heard the words. Daniel accepted it like a man accepting the weather.
"You are here to be judged," Kaelen said.
Daniel tilted his head. "Judged. By who?" His eyes narrowed on Kaelen. "By you?"
Kaelen did not answer with words. He raised one hand. The air shifted. The tall silver mirror appeared on the wall behind Daniel. Its surface rippled like water before it cleared into reflection.
Daniel turned his head. The man in the glass was him, younger, cleaner, with hope in his eyes. Then the reflection changed. His gun was in his hand. A prisoner knelt before him, hands tied, eyes wide. Daniel raised the rifle and fired.
The real Daniel did not look away. His face hardened. "Orders," he said. "It was war. You do what you are told."
The mirror flickered again. Another man on his knees. Another shot. Then three more.
Lyra whispered, "You executed them."
Daniel's eyes snapped to her, sharp. "I followed orders. Do you know what happens to a soldier who refuses? He gets replaced. And his men get punished. Better I pull the trigger than some rookie who panics and makes it worse."
Kaelen's gaze was cold steel. "So you justify murder as duty."
Daniel's fist slammed against the table, the sound echoing. "You do not understand. You have never been there. You sit behind this counter and judge, but you have never had blood on your hands because if you did, you would know the truth. You do not get choices in war. You only survive."
The mirror shifted again. A village burning. Families screaming. Daniel stood with rifle raised, eyes blank, pulling the trigger when the order came.
Lyra's voice broke. "You knew it was wrong. You knew and you stayed silent."
Daniel's voice rose. "What did you expect me to do? Run into the line of fire with no weapon? Disobey and watch someone else do the same thing anyway? At least I carried the weight. At least I did not pretend the world was clean."
Kaelen's face did not change, but inside he felt the echo of the words. He too had once followed orders. He too had once told himself survival excused the choices he made. But his face gave nothing away.
"The truth is not a weight you carried," Kaelen said at last. "The truth is the weight you buried."
The mirror showed Daniel older now, medals pinned to his chest. Crowds applauded, but the eyes of the dead stared at him from the shadows behind.
For the first time his voice faltered. "I had no choice," he whispered.
Lyra's eyes filled with quiet sorrow. "There is always a choice. Even silence is a choice. And you chose it again and again."
Daniel looked at her, anger flashing, but it cracked at the edges. For a moment his jaw clenched and unclenched, but he forced the steel back into his eyes. "You cannot understand. You never will."
The room fell silent. Kaelen raised his hand. "Your soul has been weighed."
Daniel sat up straighter. His chin lifted. He did not beg. He did not break. He waited for the verdict like a soldier waiting for the bullet.
"Void," Kaelen said.
The floor cracked open beneath him. Darkness swallowed his chair whole. Daniel did not scream. His eyes burned with defiance until the shadows closed over him and he was gone.
The mirror dissolved. The floor sealed. Silence returned.
Lyra let out the breath she had been holding. "He did not even flinch."
Kaelen lowered his hand and returned it to the counter. His voice was quiet. "The condemned rarely do."
The bottles behind the counter gave off a faint glow, as if the souls that had passed through left behind some trace that lingered in the glass. Lyra's eyes flicked toward them. She often wondered if each bottle carried the weight of the souls Kaelen judged. She had never dared to ask.
Above them, unseen, Aurelius's voice rolled down like a slow tide.
"Good. You did not bend. No mercy for the strong who prey on the weak. Keep your blade sharp, Kaelen. The moment you soften is the moment the order crumbles."
Lyra's jaw clenched. She hated Aurelius's voice. It always carried pride when Kaelen sent a soul to the void, as if damnation was victory.
Kaelen said nothing. His face gave nothing. But Lyra knew silence could cut both ways.
The door stood waiting. Always waiting. It would open again.
It always opened again.
And Kaelen would still be there, behind his counter, watching as another soul walked in with their lies, their excuses, their regrets.
Because that was the weight of the Judge.