I hate being wrong. I hate being caught off guard. And yet here I am, standing in a courtroom that defies every law I know, staring at a judge who doesn't have a face, and feeling more powerless than I ever have in my life.
"Zara Morrigan," the voice boomed. Not polite, not distant. It vibrated in my chest. "You stand accused of breach of infernal contract."
I didn't flinch. Didn't kneel. Didn't bow. Instead, I crossed my arms. "And what exactly is an infernal contract? Because I'm fairly certain that's not in the law books."
A ripple of murmurs spread through the room. The floor beneath my feet wasn't wood. Not marble. Black glass that seemed to move, like a river beneath my shoes. The walls stretched impossibly high. I could feel shadows crawling up the edges of the room. This wasn't normal. This wasn't real.
The Devil was standing at the other side of the courtroom. Not red. Not horned. Just… tall, perfect, impossibly calm, and dressed in black so sharp it hurt my eyes. His lips curved into a smile, slow, deliberate, that made me want to punch him.
"You signed willingly," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "You read the terms. You consented."
I scoffed. "I don't remember signing anything. And even if I did, you don't get to just…"
"Silence," the faceless judge cut in, and the sound made my teeth rattle. "The contract is recognized as valid. The defendant offered a life in exchange for her soul."
I froze. Offered a life?
"Wait," I said sharply, stepping forward. "Who? Who am I supposed to have saved? I… I don't remember"
Do you want me to do that next? Memory is irrelevant," the Devil interrupted, calm, patient, terrifying. "Consent is all that matters."
I gritted my teeth. "So you're saying I just casually sold my soul? For… for what, a random person?"
"You know who it was," he said. "And soon, you'll remember."
I narrowed my eyes. "I don't."
"Yes," he said, almost sad. "But you will."
The floor rippled beneath me, like the glass was water. I stumbled slightly. The people in the courtroom didn't move. Their faces were blank. Their eyes empty. Only he was alive. Only he moved.
"You were desperate," he said. "You offered anything for someone's life. And I gave you the chance."
My stomach turned cold. Someone's life? I didn't even know who. And I was supposed to have signed my eternity away to save them?
The judge tilted its faceless head toward me. "The court will now review the night the contract was signed."
A flash of light burned in my vision. My knees almost buckled. My stomach dropped. My heart slammed in my chest.
I saw myself my hands trembling, clutching someone lying still, screaming for help. Rain pouring down, blood soaking the ground. I heard myself begging, promising anything, willing to give everything.
I tried to turn away. Tried to deny it. Tried to escape.
But I was just watching. Just… seeing.
The flash ended. The courtroom returned, but my chest was still tight. My hands shook. I wanted to scream.
"You see now, Zara," the Devil said quietly, "the contract is not a mistake."
I gritted my teeth, anger and fear tangled in my gut. "This is insane. I… I don't even know who I saved. I don't know why I signed. And yet you're holding this over me?"
"Yes," he replied softly. "And soon, you'll understand the why."
I backed up, the black glass cracking slightly beneath my feet. "And if I refuse?"
The Devil's dark eyes glinted. "Then the penalty is enforced."
"Which is?" I asked, my voice trembling despite my attempt to sound defiant.
"Your soul," he said simply.
I swallowed. My pulse thundered. I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch him in the face and make him vanish.
But none of that mattered. The truth was sitting there, waiting for me to realize it: I had no idea what I had done. I didn't remember. I didn't know who I saved. And the Devil was patient. He always waits.
The judge spoke again. "You have thirty days, defendant. Thirty days to explain your actions. Thirty days to prove the life spared was not worth the price of your soul."
I stumbled backward. "You…you want me to prove someone doesn't deserve to live?"
"Correct," the Devil said. "Or accept the consequences."
My fists clenched. Rage boiled through me. I wanted to scream. I wanted to fight. I wanted to tear the courtroom apart.
Instead, I felt small. Helpless. Trapped.
A single sheet of parchment floated before me. I recognized the handwriting my own. My name at the bottom. My signature.
I swallowed hard. That wasn't just evidence. That was my life. My eternity.
I had no idea what I had done.
And that realization made the room spin.
Then the judge's voice cut through again, deep and hollow:
"Very well. The court will adjourn until the first memory of the contract is fully revealed."
The Devil's eyes locked onto mine. "Ticking clocks make people honest," he whispered.
The courtroom dissolved. The black glass floor fractured beneath me. Shadows devoured the walls. And I was falling.
I woke up gasping in my own bed.
Dark room. Rain pounding outside. Heart hammering. Sheets tangled around me.
I pulled myself up, staring at the clock. Thirty days. Thirty days to figure out something I didn't remember.
Something I didn't even know existed.
And then I noticed it. On my bedside table.
A single sheet of parchment.
Faint ink glimmered on it:
ZARA MORRIGAN
And below it, glowing softly:
29 days remaining.