The First Judgement
982 Words
The school hadn’t changed.
Same cracked steps. Same faded flags. Same cold, gray halls.
Kael and Kira stood beneath the rusted arch of the gate, the morning sun casting long shadows behind them. Students rushed past without a second glance. To them, Kael and Kira were just new faces—transfer students, maybe. No one questioned them. The world still ignored what it didn’t want to see.
Just like before.
“Do you remember the nurse’s office?” Kira asked, voice low.
Kael nodded. “The place they made us lie. Told us we were ‘clumsy.’ That we fell down stairs.”
“And the principal?” Kira’s jaw tightened.
“He told me not to waste his time.” Kael’s voice dropped to a growl. “Said I was being dramatic. That if I kept spreading ‘stories,’ I’d end up in juvenile detention.”
“He saw the bruises,” Kira said. “He saw everything.”
“And did nothing.”
Now it was his turn.
Principal Gerard was still in charge.
Balding, broad-shouldered, with a permanent scowl that made his face look carved from stone. He sat in his office, sipping stale coffee, staring at a spreadsheet he barely understood. He hated his job. Hated the kids. But he loved control.
He didn’t recognize them when they entered.
“Can I help you?” he grunted without looking up.
Kael stepped forward, closing the door behind them. “You don’t remember us?”
Gerard looked up. His eyes narrowed.
“No appointments. Get out before I call security.”
Kira stepped closer. “You used to say that all the time.”
Kael’s voice dropped. “But we’re not scared of you anymore.”
Gerard rose from his chair, but then froze.
Kael’s blade had appeared—not fully summoned, just flickering at his side like a reflection in shattered glass.
Kira lifted her mirror. Its surface shimmered, revealing flashes—quick, brutal memories.
Gerard standing over a crying girl in the nurse’s office, barking at her to shut up.
Tearing up reports.
Laughing with their foster parents.
“You let it happen,” Kael said, stepping closer.
“You chose not to see,” Kira whispered. “You silenced us. You protected monsters.”
Gerard backed against his desk. “You—you’re crazy. I’ll have you arrested!”
Kael raised his hand. The door vanished.
Not closed.
Gone.
The walls around them melted into black ash, and the windows vanished into smoke. Time stopped.
They weren’t in the office anymore.
They were somewhere else.
Somewhere between this world and the next.
The Judgment Room.
The room was endless.
Dark, but glowing faintly with the symbols of the Firelands. The floor beneath Gerard cracked and split open, revealing faces—screaming children, shadowed memories he thought buried.
He clutched his head, falling to his knees.
“No—no, this isn’t real—”
“It’s realer than anything you’ve ever felt,” Kira said coldly. “This is where lies are stripped away.”
Kael stepped beside her. “Where truth burns.”
The mirror hovered before Gerard, spinning slowly. Its surface turned dark, then showed his soul.
It was rotten.
A black, writhing thing chained to cowardice. Guilt clung to it, whispering from the corners, but he had buried it deep. Replaced it with excuses. Bureaucracy. Self-preservation.
“You could’ve helped us,” Kael said. “But you looked away.”
“I—I had no proof,” Gerard stammered. “I couldn’t jeopardize my job—”
“You let children die,” Kira snapped.
“You thought silence would save you,” Kael said. “But now it damns you.”
The mirror cracked. The sigils on Kael’s arms flared. Flames erupted around Gerard, but did not touch him—yet.
“Please,” Gerard whimpered, crawling backward. “I didn’t hit you—I didn’t touch anyone—”
“No,” Kira said. “But you opened the door and turned your back. You let it happen.”
Kael lifted his blade.
Gerard sobbed. “I’m sorry—I was weak—I was scared!”
“Then feel what we felt,” Kira said, her voice like a bell tolling through the dark.
The mirror glowed.
Gerard screamed.
The punishment wasn’t death. Not right away.
They showed him every moment he had ignored, every child he had failed, over and over. He felt the pain, the fear, the helplessness. His own voice mocked him, warped by memory.
He begged.
He broke.
And then he burned.
The flames consumed his soul, leaving only echoes behind—fragments of thought, trapped in the mirror, stored as warnings.
When the smoke cleared, the office returned. Kael and Kira stood alone. The chair was empty. The desk untouched.
Gerard was gone.
In the school announcements that day, the intercom buzzed, and a voice muttered about a sudden resignation. “Due to personal reasons.”
No one questioned it.
No one asked.
Because no one ever did.
That night, Kael and Kira stood in the shadows of the city again.
“The more we do this,” Kael said, “the more the fire grows.”
“I know,” Kira replied. “I can feel it, too. It’s not just changing our powers—it’s changing us.”
Kael looked at his hand. When he flexed his fingers, the blade flickered through his skin like it wanted to stay drawn.
“We need to be careful,” he said. “The Keeper gave us this power for vengeance. But if we let it consume us…”
“We become what they were,” Kira finished quietly.
Kael looked at her. “Are we already on that path?”
Kira didn’t answer.
Instead, she looked into her mirror.
And saw the next face.
- Writer
