Cinder woke up choking.
His body convulsed. His throat closed. Something was shoved down it. A tube. A fucking tube made of leather and spit.
"Hold him."
The old man's voice. Theros.
Hands pinned Cinder's arms. Another set held his legs. His eyes snapped open. A cave. Damp stone. Firelight flickering on walls stained with moss and old blood.
Vex was on his left. The young soldier from the alley. His face was pale as a corpse. His hands were shaking while they held Cinder's arm.
"He's awake," Vex whispered.
"I see that," Theros said. He was crouched over Cinder, a leather tube sticking out of a hole in Cinder's stomach. The wound. The one Halden's knife made. Theros was pushing something through the tube. Hot. Bitter. Medicine or poison or both.
Cinder tried to move. His body didn't listen.
"Stop fucking squirming," Theros growled. "Or I'll let the infection eat you from the inside out. Your choice."
Cinder stopped moving.
Theros worked in silence. His hands were steady. Old hands with cracked knuckles and burns on the fingers. He pulled the tube out. Sewed the wound shut with thread that looked like it came from a dead man's coat. Needle pierced flesh. Cinder felt every stitch. Bit his tongue until blood filled his mouth.
Theros sat back. Wiped his hands on his pants. Stared at Cinder.
"You're a fucking idiot."
Cinder's throat was raw. His voice came out like broken glass. "Good morning to you too, old man."
Theros didn't smile. His face was carved from rock that had been shat on by birds for a hundred years. "You used TORTURE on your first target. With zero threshold. Zero preparation. Zero understanding of what you were doing."
"He deserved it."
"He deserved to die," Theros said. "What you did was torture a man for eight hundred cycles while his victims' memories tore through your nervous system. You almost fucking died. Twice."
"But I didn't."
"No. You didn't." Theros leaned closer. His breath smelled like rot and cheap liquor. "Because I found your worthless ass bleeding out in a pool of a councilman's vomit and dragged you here. You owe me a life, boy."
Cinder stared at him. The number above Theros' head was still zero. Clean. Untouched.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why save me?"
Theros sat back. Pulled a flask from his coat. Drank. Wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Because you're the first new Judge in thirty fucking years. And I wanted to see what kind of monster the system picked this time."
He tossed the flask to Vex. The young soldier caught it with shaking hands. Drank. Coughed. Handed it back.
"Turns out," Theros continued, "it picked a suicidal idiot with a martyr complex and just enough rage to get himself killed in the first week. Congratulations. You're exactly what I expected."
Cinder tried to sit up. His arms gave out. He fell back against the cold stone. Pain ripped through his gut. He tasted blood again.
"Don't," Vex said. His voice was high. Nervous. "Theros stitched you up but the wound is still—" He swallowed. "The system did something to you. Your insides are… fucked up. Theros said you carried too much karma. Your body is rejecting it."
Cinder looked at Theros. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Theros said, "you have eight hundred and forty-seven units of other people's suffering living in your bones. Your muscles. Your fucking teeth. Every part of you is screaming right now because your body knows those memories don't belong to you. And it's trying to vomit them out."
He pointed at Cinder's chest.
"That cold fire in your heart? That's the system. It's the only thing keeping you alive. But it's also the thing that's killing you. Every judgment you make adds weight. Every soul you judge stacks bricks on your back. And when the weight gets too heavy…"
He drew a finger across his throat.
"You die. Not fast. Not clean. Your mind breaks first. Then your body follows. The system doesn't give a shit about you. It's a tool. A fucking hammer. You don't cry when a hammer breaks. You throw it away and get a new one."
Cinder's hands clenched. His nails dug into his palms.
"You're telling me to stop."
"I'm telling you to understand what you are now," Theros said. "You're a Judge. That means you carry other people's sins. Not as a metaphor. Not as a cute fucking idea. You carry them physically. Every cut. Every burn. Every rape. Every child's scream. All of it goes into your soul and sits there until it rots you from the inside."
He stood up. His joints cracked. He was old. Older than Cinder first thought. Seventy. Maybe eighty. But his eyes were sharp. Sharp as the knife on his belt.
"You want to be a Judge? Fine. But you do it with your eyes open. You understand the cost. And you don't fucking waste your life on the first piece of shit who crosses your path."
Cinder's jaw tightened. "He killed two hundred people. Indirectly. He sold children. He—"
"I don't give a shit what he did."
Theros' voice was flat. Dead.
"He's dead. You're alive. Barely. Was it worth it?"
Cinder didn't answer.
"That's what I thought." Theros turned to Vex. "Watch him. If he starts seizing, shove something in his mouth so he doesn't bite his tongue off. I'm going to check the perimeter."
He walked toward the cave entrance. Stopped. Didn't turn around.
"By the way. The system has a name. It's not just a tool. It's a prison."
He left.
Cinder lay on the stone. The cold seeped into his back. His body was a bag of meat held together by string and spite. The eight hundred and forty-seven units of karma sat in his chest like a pile of rocks. Every breath was work.
Vex was staring at him. The young soldier's face was a mask of fear and curiosity. He couldn't have been older than eighteen. His hands were still shaking.
"What?" Cinder said.
Vex jumped. "Nothing. I just… I've never seen a Judge before. I heard stories. From my father. Before he—"
He stopped. His jaw worked.
"Before he died," Cinder finished.
Vex nodded. His eyes were wet. He blinked fast.
"Theros said you used TORTURE. On the councilman. The one who…" He swallowed. "My father was a dock worker. He tried to organize a strike. Halden's men broke his legs. Threw him in the river. He drowned."
Silence.
"I watched," Vex said. His voice cracked. "I was twelve. I hid behind some barrels and watched them do it. Watched him go under. Watched the bubbles stop."
Cinder stared at the cave ceiling. The stone was wet. Water dripped from somewhere. Drip. Drip. Drip.
"Then I'm glad I made him suffer," Cinder said.
Vex's face twisted. Something between a laugh and a sob.
"Yeah," he said. "Me too."
They sat in silence. The fire crackled. Outside, the wind howled through the mountains. Cinder could hear Theros moving around the perimeter. His footsteps were light. Quiet. The footsteps of a man who had spent decades not being heard.
"What did Theros mean?" Cinder asked. "When he said the system is a prison?"
Vex shrugged. "I don't know. He doesn't talk about it much. He was a Judge. A long time ago. Before I was born. Something happened. He doesn't use the system anymore. He just… watches. Waits."
"For what?"
"For someone like you, I guess."
Cinder closed his eyes. The darkness behind his lids was full of faces. Children. Workers. Women on their knees. All of them looking at him. Waiting.
'Go away.'
They didn't go away.
Theros came back. His face was grim. He crouched by the fire and added wood. The flames jumped higher. Shadows danced on the walls.
"We have a problem," he said.
Vex's face went white. "What kind of problem?"
"The kind with swords and horses." Theros looked at Cinder. "Halden Vane was a councilman. His death wasn't quiet. The Empire knows a Judge did it. They're sending a hunting party."
"Hunting party?" Vex's voice cracked.
"Ordo Judicis," Theros said. "The Empire's pet Judges. They don't like rogue actors. They'll find us. They'll kill us. And then they'll make sure no one ever hears about what happened in that alley."
Cinder opened his eyes. "How long?"
"A day. Maybe two." Theros stood. "We need to move. Now."
"He can't move," Vex said. "Look at him. He can't even sit up."
Theros looked at Cinder. His eyes were hard. There was no pity there. Just calculation.
"Then he dies here. And we run."
"What?" Vex stood up. His chair—a crate—overturned. "You can't just leave him. He's a Judge. He's the only one who—"
"He's a dead weight," Theros said. "And I'm not dying for a corpse who doesn't know when to stop."
Cinder watched them argue. His body was a ruin. But his mind was clear. Clearer than it had been in months.
'They're right.'
He couldn't move. Couldn't fight. Couldn't even piss without help. If the Ordo Judicis found him here, he was dead. And Theros and Vex would die with him.
"Leave," Cinder said.
The argument stopped. Both of them looked at him.
"What?" Vex said.
"Leave. I said leave. I'm not going anywhere. And I'm not getting you both killed because you're too stupid to run."
Vex's face crumpled. "But you—"
"I'm a fucking Judge," Cinder said. His voice was weak. But the words were iron. "I chose this. I knew the cost. If I die here, I die. That's the deal. That's the fucking deal."
He looked at Theros.
"Go. Take the kid. Get out of here."
Theros stared at him for a long moment. Something shifted in his eyes. Respect. Or maybe recognition. Hard to tell with old men who've seen too much shit.
"No."
Cinder blinked. "What?"
"I said no." Theros sat down. Poured himself another drink from the flask. "You're the first Judge in thirty years with enough balls to use TORTURE on a councilman. I'm not letting you die in a cave because you can't walk."
He pointed at Vex.
"Go find a horse. There's a village two miles east. Steal one. Don't get caught."
Vex's mouth opened. Closed. He nodded. Ran out of the cave before anyone could change their mind.
Theros looked at Cinder.
"You're going to live, boy. Not because you deserve it. But because the world needs more people willing to make bastards like Halden Vane scream."
He pulled out a small vial from his coat. Dark liquid. Thick.
"What's that?" Cinder asked.
"Painkiller. Also poison if you take too much. But you won't." He uncorked it. "This is going to hurt. A lot. And then you're going to sleep for twelve hours. When you wake up, you'll be able to walk. Not run. Not fight. Walk."
He tilted the vial to Cinder's lips.
"After that, we're going to find the Ordo Judicis hunting party. And we're going to make them wish they'd stayed home."
Cinder drank.
The liquid burned. It tasted like dirt and rot and something sweet underneath. Honey. Or maybe lies. Hard to tell.
The pain hit a second later.
His body arched off the stone. Every nerve caught fire. The eight hundred and forty-seven karma units in his bones screamed. The faces in his head screamed. Everything screamed.
Theros held him down. One hand on his chest. Steady.
"Breathe, you stupid bastard. Breathe."
Cinder couldn't breathe. He was drowning again. The river. The girl. The boy in the press. All of them pulling him under.
'No.'
He bit down on the word. Held it. The pain was a wave. It crashed over him. But underneath it, something was solid. Something was his.
'No. I'm not done.'
The wave passed.
His body went slack. His lungs pulled in air. The fire in his nerves faded to embers. He was alive. Still alive.
Theros sat back. Wiped sweat from his forehead.
"There," he said. "That's the first lesson, Judge. Pain is just information. Use it or let it use you."
Cinder's eyes were closing. The cave walls were melting. The fire was a blur of orange and red.
"Second lesson," Theros said. His voice was distant now. Fading. "The system is broken. It's been broken for a long time. The god inside it is dying. And when it dies, everything you are goes with it."
Cinder tried to speak. His mouth wouldn't move.
"So don't get attached," Theros said. "To the power. To the system. To anything."
The last thing Cinder saw before the darkness took him was Theros' face. The zero above his head. And something else. Something in the old man's eyes that looked like grief. Old grief. The kind that never heals.
Then nothing.