Chapter 18: Chapter 18: The fall of Judgment vows

The woods parted to her—not by choice, but by identification.

It didn't know her before.

She didn't just exist as another doomed vessel traveling the skeletons of the ancient world. She was a thread in the apparatus that built it.

And she had spoken her words.

The Judgment Vows. Of the nine judgment.

Each step she took deeper into the forest repeated them, though no breath left her lips. They had been breathed into the marrow of her bones, written into her blood now—not as teachings passed down, but as vows written upward, from soul to sky.

The Nine Judgment vows

I vow to judge not by tradition, but by truth.

No law is sacred if it protects injustice.

I promise never to obey when obedience is a weapon.

The chain that holds the spirit captive is not virtue.

I promise to bring balance, not revenge.

Mercy will not blind me. Wrath will not guide me.

I promise not to serve the silence, but to shatter it.

I will speak where others whisper, and act where others hesitate.

I promise to battle not for glory, but for stillness.

The world must breathe once more—whether I do or not.

I vow to walk into the darkness without the closing of eyes.

What festers in seclusion cannot be washed away by denials.

when the day comes that I shall stand to be judged—

I vow to kneel to no god, no crown, no blood tie… but to the truth alone.

I vow to carry the weight of my choices, even when they go unseen.

I will not prosecute those who made me. I am mine, now.

And i swear to judge the powerful without fear, and the broken without compassion.

Each shall stand before the mirror, however they may call themselves.

The air around her shifted.

And then—

The trees parted to a clearing.

No sun had ever touched it. Only a dim, motionless light such as bone imprisoned in thin flesh. The ground was littered with talismans—old, decaying—scattered as leaves in a gale. The shrine stones here had lain for centuries, covered in vines. But amidst the ruin stood something that had no place in this forest.

A mirror.

Seven feet tall. Suspended in gold that had lost its luster long ago, cracked down the center, blackened at the edges with rot. But its face shone, not with light—but remembrance.

As Hikari walked up, the face started to stir.

First: her father. Takashi. Standing alone in the garden, sword drawn, face impassive, flame of judgment blazing in his eyes.

Then: Hakari, younger, arms wrapped around the forbidden scrolls, incantations whispered under his breath.

Then: herself. Crying softly behind the training hall, the beads heavy on her neck, too afraid to inform them that she did not wish to be chosen.

Then, Rinne.

Not smiling. Not wise. Simply sitting in the garden with his eyes closed, looking as though he'd already been forgotten by the world.

The vision dissolved.

The mirror cracked further.

Behind it… something moved.

The wind became bitter.

And she knew.

This was the veil. Where the curse grew teeth.

Where ghosts were shaped from sadness too great to say. Where obedience died, and bitterness were forged. Where the Hollow Queen stood waiting, dreaming with eyes wide open.

But the curse did not rush this time.

It knelt.

From the trees, they emerged—dozens of them. Spirits, not bound to chains, but drawn to her. Not to fight. To watch. A court of the damned, as silent as stone, gathered as if cognizant of the seriousness of what came.

And in their center, the path forward split in two.

One path—the broken road of prayers and talismans. The old way. The way of custom. Comforting. Forgiving.

The other—black earth. A straight dive into the bones of the mountain, where light dared not tread. The path of reckoning.

She didn't hesitate.

She stepped towards the darkness. The spirits hung their heads as she passed. Not respect. But acknowledgment.

She wasn't their queen.

She wasn't their savior.

She was their judge.

The last oath echoed in her mind, clearer now.

When the day arrives that I must be judged—

I vow to judge not from tradition, but from truth.

No law is sacred if it protects injustice

And so, Hikari fell.

Into the darkness.

Into the curse.

Into herself.

The forest no longer whispered—it breathed.

With every step Hikari took, the world around her started to throb, as if the earth and roots had veins, and the curse was the blood pumping through them. The air became denser now, with a metallic smell of rot. Her Judgment Beads no longer just pulsed—they hummed, vibrating with each step as if they knew where she was headed.

Kurohana.

Not the village his people whispered of in hushed stories. Not the sacred shrine spoken of in prayer. Something more, something below those illusions. Below its sanctified façade, something was hidden. Something that distorted tradition into slavery, and turned siblings into foes.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

And he was there.

Hakari.

She could feel it. His presence tugged on the unraveling thread of her soul like gravity—some severed strand between blood, destiny, and unfinished judgment. She knew why he returned there. Not to remember. Not to mourn. But to claim what he believed was his birthright. Immortality. Freedom from time. Freedom from suffering.

But freedom was something he sought outside. Only ruin.

Hikari pushed deeper, the forest closing in around her. Roots sprang from the ground like fingers. Trees hunched over, their trunks slick with black moss that pulsed with imprecations. The deeper she traveled, the more the forest remembered her—and not fondly.

Specters emerged—torn bodies pulled from the earth itself. Torn, indeterminate, more emotion than flesh. Some wept in silence, tears of darkness flowing down vacant faces. Others wailed without mouths, clutching at unseen wounds.

But not one would approach her.

Her chains gleamed around her wrist, partially unfurled like a serpent that waited for command. It knew the path was not done. That her vow was not just spoken—it had become her purpose.

“I’m not here to save you,” she murmured as the spirits gathered around the path. “I’m here to finish what the elders were too afraid to end.”

The spirits retreated—not out of fear, but out of wonder. Or perhaps, out of grief.

She walked on.

Rinne had been right.

She recalled his words, sounding like bells:

"You can choose your way now, Hikari. Be the good one… or the one who lowers the sword of judgment."

She had tried to be the good one. The obedient. The protector.

It had left behind a shattered family. A brother with rebellion on his back. An ashy village. A curse let loose.

There was no longer any goodness in quiet.

She'd stopped in mid-step.

Before her, the trees opened up into a clearing in the shape of a scar—trunks cut in two down the middle, roots twisted away from black stone. The earth trembled under her boots as she pushed forward, holding her breath.

And then she saw it.

The gates of Kurohana. Or what was left of them.

The shrine was half-buried in the ground, as if the mountain itself tried to devour it after failing to keep what was buried within. The torii arch was broken in two, and the seal that had held its power—entirely shattered. Below it, the earth opened up like a wound, collapsing into darkness.

Hikari walked towards it.

Symbols carved into the stone pulsed feebly—like the one on her brother's shoulder. She dropped to her knees beside them, tracing one of her fingers over one.

"Cursed. not blessed," she whispered. "We were never favored by gods. We were chosen like swords from a rack."

Thunder rolled somewhere above. But the sky did not change. The noise was erupting from within the earth.

A voice rose behind her—deep, heavy with familiarity. Not mocking. Not cruel. Just… weary.

"You came."

Hikari stood, rotating slowly.

And there he was.

Hakari.

On the other side of the clearing, covered in shadow and ash. His coat in tatters, dripping curse-soaked blood. The Immortal Mask was tied to his belt, closed but watching—its eye thudding softly. His expression was calm. Too calm.

"You don't belong here," he said softly.

"This is our home," said Hikari.

"No. This was our prison."

Their eyes clashed. Storm below them moaned louder.

"You came here to prevent you," Hakari said.

"Yes."

"You will not succeed."

"I might," Hikari said. "But I'm not going to abandon this way."

Hakari looked at her—not with anger, but worse. Pity.

"They used you. Still using you. You wear their beads like they are valuable. You blame the curse, spreading because of me? No, sister. The curse was here all the while. They merely taught you to ignore it. But you know what else they hide? The true wisdom. Magic."

"I know," she replied.

That stopped him.

"I know they lied. I know they shaped me like they shaped you. But I'm not going to destroy the world for it."

"I'm not going to destroy anything," Hakari replied. "I'm going to survive it."

He inched closer.

"I will break the curse. Not by cleansing it. But by becoming something unblemished."

"You mean inhuman."

"If that's the price of never being constrained again," he said, "I'll pay it."

She looked at him, the child who had raced alongside her in the garden. The child who cried when Takashi screamed. The child who tried to instruct her in forbidden magic because he thought it was beautiful.

Then she said, quietly, "And if I must be your judge?"

A long silence.

Then Hakari smiled—not icily. But as if he expected it.

"Then judge me, Hikari."

The forest was a howling.

The wind shrieked through the trees like razors.

And Hikari came forward, Judgment Chain coiling onto her hand, beads blazing with light.

Her voice was cold. Calculating. Conclusionary.

"These are the judgment I bear," she said. "Not their law. My truth."

Hakari drew his sword. The mask beat. At their feet, the earth began to split open—probing the pulse-veins of the curse below.

Brother and sister stood between gods and death.

The forest groaned like an ancient god waking beneath their feet.

Tendrils of darkness curled and bulged behind Hakari, a shield of corrupted sinew, pulsing with his will. The chains Hikari summoned burned with cold, biting light, their divine edge cutting through the foul air, each blow meant to pierce—not just the flesh, but the soul.

But Hakari was faster now. Stronger. More composed.

She sent another portal-born chain lancing at him from behind, but he didn't even flinch. A wave of his fingers, and a shroud of shadows unfolded to intercept it in mid-slash, bending the blow until it dissipated.

As suddenly appear port behind Hakari. But his tendril easily block it.

He laughed—low, tired, but biting. "That's three now."

Hikari breathed and raised her hand again, sliding her foot through the earth as she shifted position. Her shoulders relaxed. Her weight adjusted.

Her chain curled back around, softly, like a waiting snake.

And she said it. Then. Softly. As if passing on:

"Your stance is sloppy."

Hakari was tense.

The words hurt more than the chain.

He blinked, something snapping too easily in the space behind his eyes.

Your stance is sloppy.

He'd heard those words before.

A long, long time ago.

---

Flashback

He was fourteen again. Knees plunged into gravel, palms scraped bloody, chest heaving in the sun-baked training yard. His practice blade a couple of feet away, kicked from his hands with careless ease.

Takashi towered over him, not furious—never furious. Just disappointed.

"Your stance is sloppy," his father told him then, voice like cracked stone. "Too wide. You use speed when your foundation is empty."

Hakari wiped the blood from his chin. "I was quick enough."

"You were quick," Takashi replied. "But anyone can be quick. I'm teaching you to be unbreakable."

Hakari rose unsteadily to his feet. "Then teach me something useful. Not these outdated foot placements and breathing exercises."

Takashi's eyes narrowed, cold and inscrutable. "When you fight someone who doesn't care if they bleed, you'll understand why form matters."

Hakari attacked once more.

And he was on the ground again within seconds. Every time.

Every damn time.

---

“Your stance is sloppy.”

Now it was Hikari’s voice echoing those words. She hadn’t shouted them. She hadn’t even meant them as a taunt. But they cut deep.

Hakari’s jaw clenched. His tendrils curled around his shoulders, defensive, unsure.

“You sound just like him,” he muttered. “You even move like him now.”

Hikari didn’t respond. She turned her foot slightly, shifted her hips. Her chain tightened in rhythm with her breath.

Rinne’s word.

Takashi’s stance.

And her voice…?

She had said nothing, because she felt it now too. She wasn't speaking with her voice. Not exactly. She had stolen his voice, the way he speak—Rinne's. That gentle, silky riddle-wrapped voice that belied before it ever endangered. It was something she used to like, something she used to need. But now it was pouring out of her mouth like second nature.

And the movement of her body—it was Father's. Every turn of her wrist, every curve of her step, the spreading of her knees in combat stance. All of it etched into her by the sheer number of hours spent on the training ground. Each lesson driven into her bones.

Even her silence felt inherited.

Hakari took one step closer. His eyes were focused now, not with rage, but with something harder.

Clarity.

"You're not judging me by yourself, Hikari," he said. "You're imitating them."

Her fingers curled.

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are," he interrupted. "You're using Rinne's riddles and Father's position. You're striking with judgment, but it's not yours. It's theirs."

She pulled the chain tight, but more slowly this time. He saw the doubt.

Hakari went on. "You said I was lost—drunk on immortality. A fool chasing an illusion and blinded. But look at you."

He gestured to her.

"Even now, you stand like Takashi. You speak like Rinne. You say you're choosing your path—but all I see is a girl wearing borrowed faces."

"Shut up," she whispered, barely above a whisper.

"I think you think so," he said to her, his tone softer now. "I think you really think you're doing something different."

"I said—shut up—"

"But you're just the echo of two men you couldn't save... Rinne? He sacrifice himself because he scared you losing your immortality against hollow queen. And father?"

The words stung more than any chain could.

Hikari’s body stiffened.

Her eyes began to sting. Her mouth opened to shout back, but nothing came. No righteous speech. No riddles. Just her breath, sharp and shallow.

Because the truth was—

He wasn’t entirely wrong.

Rinne taught her to look beyond the law. To question. To break the silence.

Takashi taught her to fight, to stand still when the world burned.

And both of them—shaped her more than she ever admitted.

She had been proud of it. Proud to carry their legacies. But now…

Now, she realized she never had stopped carrying them.

"I…" she tried. Her voice cracked. "I did this. I had to. They left nothing but ash—someone had to—"

"To what?" Hakari drew nearer, and for once there was no cruelty in his eyes—only exhaustion. "To be their mirror?"

She shook her head.

"To live as their shadow? Their relic?"

"I'm not just—" she started, her voice stronger now, "—I'm not just a shadow."

"Then show yourself to me," he said, gesturing to the chain still hanging suspended between them. "Not Rinne. Not Takashi. You... Where is your path Hikari. Your own."

The words dropped like stone.

And Hikari… hesitated.

The chain dissolved, the beat in the beads slowing.

"I don't know how," she whispered.

Silence again. And Hakari didn't press. He just stood there, allowing her to unravel.

Because this is what she had to witness. Not triumph. But where her temporary power stopped—and her own started.

The wind gusted through the clearing again, colder now.

Hikari's hand dropped.

"I've been living someone else's path," she admitted, the words small, jagged. "Even now… I don't know what's mine."

Hakari exhaled. "Then don't fight me like them. Don't judge me like them. Just…" he looked down. "Be you, Hikari."

She looked at her chain, watching the light dance in harmony with her breath. And for the first time in hours, she let it fall. The silver links wound gently against the ground, not discarded—just still.

"I don't know who I am without them," she whispered.

"Then find out," Hakari instructed. "Before this curse finishes making you another echo."

They stood there, in silence.

The battle was paused. Not finished. But something had shifted.

No longer the judge and the damned.

Just two siblings.

Two broken mirrors, sharing the same cracks.

And for the first time, the silence between them did not ache.

She hestitated. To even judge her own brother. That clearly in cursed path.