The air thickened, dense and charged like a storm poised to strike, when an ear-piercing sound exploded from nowhere and everywhere all at once.
The pitch clawed into eardrums. Hands flew to heads. Grown warriors dropped to their knees, eyes squeezed shut as the shrill note forced itself into their skulls.
The decree had been spoken. And now, the universe held its breath.
The tiled ground trembled, spider-webbing into cracks that hissed with shadows, dark tendrils leaking upward like ink dispersing into water.
Then a voice slithered through the silence.
A whisper, but not a whisper.
A jagged, inhuman tone that echoed from every wall and yet seemed to come from inside each of us.
"Judgment... received."
From the heart of the hall, a figure emerged, rising from the abyss like something born of starlight and decay. It was cloaked in the remnants of robes that had once shimmered with glory, now in tatters that whispered of time and ruin. Its face, if it had one, remained veiled in a shifting blackness that refused definition. Eyes, unblinking and wrong, opened across its form, all glowing with golden-black light.
The spirit judge.
It towered above the tribunal, its presence alone enough to drive the judges to their knees. One gasped, clutching his chest, the breath wrenched from his lungs as if seized by an invisible force.
The decree, the one etched into my skin moments ago, burned across the spirit’s frame, binding it to divine will.
"Your authority is forfeit."
The words weren’t spoken; they simply existed. Absolute. Unarguable.
The judges convulsed.
Their robes disintegrated into ash. Their insignias blazed and vanished, scorched clean by holy fire. They opened their mouths to protest, but no sound escaped. Their power had been stripped, title, voice, and all.
Gasps filled the chamber.
Black-gold symbols ignited across their foreheads. Marks of banishment.
"You shall walk among the forsaken. No protection. No sanctuary."
The decree rippled outward, searching.
And then it found them.
The hidden. The corrupt. The ones who smiled in council halls but plotted in shadows.
They rose, screaming, as invisible hands gripped their throats. Suspended mid-air, their bodies writhed. One by one, they were branded with the mark. Cast down.
Their screams fell into silence.
Not because they stopped.
But because the world had stopped hearing them.
The spirit turned.
And for one breathless moment, looked at me.
Then it vanished.
And the hall… fell silent.
Even the walls seemed changed.
The scripture across my skin shimmered once more, then retracted, reversing like golden ink drawn back into the pen. The glow faded. My body returned to its ordinary self.
But the weight of what had happened remained.
Jamey didn’t hesitate. He rushed past the settling dust, straight to Alec.
Alec sat hunched on the floor, hands over his face, shoulders trembling.
Eric reached him next, a silent shield, standing tall and coiled.
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I walked toward them, each step echoing louder than the last. Whispers snuffed out mid-breath. People backed away like my presence might set them alight. Even those who stayed didn’t dare meet my gaze.
I didn’t care.
I dropped to my knees beside Alec and wrapped my arms around him.
He didn’t speak.
He didn’t need to.
His silent tears soaked into my shoulder, and I held on tighter.
The hall emptied slowly, sect leaders, confused scribes, warriors with wide eyes and heavy thoughts. Only my team, Eric’s team, and a few stunned council members remained.
But we couldn’t linger. Not after this.
Alec finally exhaled, sagging backward. I released him as he ran a hand through his hair and wiped the dampness from his face.
"I’m fine," he muttered, voice rough but steady.
He looked up at me, eyes red but clear. Grateful. Relieved. Something else too.
Guilt.
Eric moved beside me, his arm looping around my shoulders in a protective yet familiar hold. His lips brushed against my temple, a silent acknowledgment, a quiet reassurance.
His presence tethered me, steady and solid as the world tried to shift beneath my feet. When our eyes met, we shared a quiet smile, one that said: We survived.
"You have to tell me what the hell just happened," he murmured, awe mixed with something darker. "It was like something out of a prophecy… and still, some of them think you’re dangerous."
The words hit different.
Alec flinched at that, not from Eric, but from the memory of the man he’d laid out in that alleyway.
"They said she was possessed," Alec muttered, voice brittle. "Said what she carries isn’t divine."
His hand flexed. "And they’re still whispering it, especially now."
The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was loaded.
Eric’s jaw tensed, his voice low. "Let them whisper. Power makes people nervous. Divine power terrifies them."
I wrapped my arm around Eric’s waist, resting my head against his shoulder. My voice came out quieter than I meant.
"Then let them be terrified."
My gaze drifted to the cracked floor where the decree had scorched judgment into the air itself.
They saw what I did.
They witnessed the divine, righteous, ancient, undeniable.
And still… they doubted me.
I’ll remember that.
When they come running, begging for protection they once feared…
I won’t forget who believed in me.
And who didn’t.
My hands curled slightly, the faint shimmer of scripture flickering beneath my skin like a pulse.
As long as the people I love know who I am… let the rest choke on their fear.
My eyes drift back to Alec. "Can we leave now? This place makes me want to commit actual crimes."
Samantha stepped in, her touch light on Alec’s shoulder.
"We all need food. Sleep. And then Max can explain how she became the spiritual version of Buddha."
Alec cracked a faint smile, but his fingers stayed wrapped around mine, unwilling to let go.
"Aleesha and her dad," he rasped, voice frayed. "They need to know it’s safe to go home."
Samuel stepped forward and gently patted Alec’s shoulder.
Alec flinched, just slightly, as if even kindness burned.
"We already called Mr. Grant," Samuel said softly. "Told him it’s safe."
The moment we entered the house, warmth greeted us like a long-lost friend.
The air was thick with spices, roasted meat, and fresh bread, comfort wrapped in scent.
"Anyone remember the last time we ate?" I asked, eyeing the table like a starving beast.
Alec and Jamey exchanged blank looks.
"Didn’t think so." I laughed, smacking both of them on the back. "Go. Before I change my mind and eat you instead."
Later, curled on the couch with Eric beside me, I rested my head on his lap, his fingers tracing lazy circles against my arm.
Sleep dragged me under like velvet chains.
When I woke, the sky outside had turned indigo. The room glowed with soft evening light.
My phone read: 7:03 p.m.
Eric dozed beside me, one arm still curled around my waist. His face, usually sharp and alert, looked peaceful in sleep. Hair tousled. Mouth parted slightly.
My fingers hovered above his forehead.
I resisted the urge to brush the strands away.
Instead, I let my hand drift over his nose. Then his lips. Featherlight.
He inhaled sharply.
Eyes snapped open.
Before I could pull back, he caught my wrist and tugged me closer.
"Why stop there, young lady?" he asked, voice gravelly with sleep and laced in amusement.
My face turned crimson.
I buried it in his chest. "We need to talk to Mr. Grant," I mumbled into his shirt.
His chuckle vibrated through me.
Downstairs, everyone looked... healed. Lighter.
Like Anarxis hadn’t just threatened our souls hours ago.
We kept the explanation simple for Mr. Grant. No need to traumatize the man with details of spiritual warfare and ancient decrees.
Aleesha needed no words. Her eyes met mine, and in them, I saw understanding.
She was one of us.
We agreed to rest. A week. Maybe two. Regroup. Rebuild. Let Aleesha begin her journey.
For the first time in forever…
We believed we were safe.
We were wrong.
Bang.
The front door buckled under the first blow.
Bang.
It rattled again, louder, angrier.
Bang.
Cracks split across the frame like veins of fury.
Alec shot to his feet.
Jamey was already reaching for his weapon.
Eric stepped in front of me, stance wide and immovable, like a wall that would not break.
Then.
A voice.
Venomous. Familiar.
"You dare to banish them?"
My blood turned to ice.
"You think you can judge our leaders... and walk away unscathed?"
The air thickened, sticky and dark. Shadows peeled away from the corners of the room, stretching along the walls like they were listening.
"You used forbidden power, mocked divine law, tainted our realm with that cursed scripture."
I stiffened.
"We know what you are," the voice spat. "And now the world will, too."
So that’s it.
It wasn’t just revenge for the judges.
They believed it, that I was corrupted. Possessed. That my decrees weren’t born of heaven... but something darker.
"You took everything from them." The voice rose. "Now... we take everything from you."
The door exploded inward.
Figures stormed through, cloaked in shadow, eyes burning with unholy fire. Their presence was wrong in the way poisoned air is wrong, sickly, charged, rancid with hate.
Not the judges.
But those who still believed in them.
Those who believed I was a threat to be purged.
Their vengeance had come wrapped in holy war.
Oh, it burns.
done playing nice?
?? Share your theories.
??? And say a prayer for the fools kicking down that door.
(officially out of chill)