Chapter 11: The Scales of Judgment

As soon as they stepped inside, the warmth hit Theo like a wave. The crackling hearth near the far wall cast flickering golden light across the stone interior, chasing away the cold that had clung to them for the entire journey. The scent of burning wood and aged parchment filled the air, mingling with something more distinct—incense, faint but lingering.

The heavy wooden doors groaned shut behind them, sealing them within the Hall of Verdant Silence. The transition from the graveyard's stark chill to the church's warmth should have been a relief, but instead, an odd weight settled on Theo's chest.

This place felt still. Watchful.

Theo's fingers unconsciously curled into the fabric of Gregory's coat before he realized he was still being carried.

Gregory let out a low chuckle. 'Alright, mighty king, your throne time's up.' He crouched, letting Theo slide to the ground.

The floor was smooth stone, polished from years of footsteps. The pews were arranged in neat rows, their dark wood worn with age. At the center of the hall, just beyond the altar, stood the great stained-glass window of Virgo, Mother of Balance. Her golden scales hung in perfect equilibrium, one side held high, the other low, yet not tilted. A symbol of judgment and justice.

Theo swallowed hard. 'I have a bad feeling about this.'

Lily pulled back the fur-lined hood of her cloak, shaking loose strands of dark hair. 'We should find Father Emmanuel.'

Gregory grunted. 'He's probably in the back. He never waits up front.'

Theo's gaze flickered toward the shadows that stretched beyond the main hall. The faint glow of lanterns barely pierced the dimly lit corridors, their light casting long, flickering silhouettes against the walls.

Then, from one of the side doors, a figure emerged.

Father Emmanuel's Judgment

Father Emmanuel strode toward them, his robes trailing slightly as he moved. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, with a presence that seemed to command silence without effort. His silver-streaked hair was neatly combed back, and his sharp, piercing eyes landed on them one by one before settling on Theo.

'Theo.' His voice was calm, measured, carrying the weight of both wisdom and expectation. 'You've come.'

Theo hesitated. '...Yeah.'

A long silence stretched between them.

Then, the priest turned to Gregory and Lily. 'I assume you didn't come just for shelter.'

Gregory crossed his arms. 'We need answers. You're the only one who might have them.'

Emmanuel's gaze flickered back to Theo. There was something unreadable in his expression. Then, with a slow nod, he gestured for them to follow.

'The sanctuary is not the place for this discussion. Come.'

They moved deeper into the church.

The Hidden Chamber

Father Emmanuel led them down a narrow stone hallway, the air growing cooler with each step. The walls were lined with aged tapestries, depicting Fatebinders, celestial symbols, and the trials of saints long past.

At the end of the passage, the priest pushed open a heavy wooden door, revealing a small ritual chamber.

A single stone altar sat at its center, carved with intricate celestial markings. The air here was thick—not with dust, but with something else. Something unseen.

Father Emmanuel stepped forward, turning to face them.

Gregory was the first to speak. 'We want him to learn control. Before anything else happens.'

The priest studied Theo again. 'Control is only part of the equation. Understanding is another.'

Theo's jaw tightened. 'Then help me understand.'

Father Emmanuel motioned toward the altar. 'Then step forward. We will test the balance of your soul.'

The Scales of Virgo

Theo stepped up to the altar. As he did, the air seemed to shift—not colder, not warmer, but heavier. The symbols carved into the stone surface began to glow with faint golden light, pulsing in slow, rhythmic waves.

Father Emmanuel lifted his hands and began an ancient Virgoan prayer:

'Virgo, Keeper of Scales, Mother of Balance,

We call upon your wisdom, your judgment,

May the weight of truth be known, and the path be made clear.'

The altar rumbled.

Then, above it, something began to form.

A pair of golden scales materialized, suspended in midair. The left plate shone brightly, while the right remained shrouded in shadow.

Theo felt something pulling at him. It wasn't physical, but deep—like something reaching into his very soul. A strange tension coiled in his chest, as though some unseen force was trying to pull him apart and piece him back together.

The scales trembled.

Lily took a step forward. 'What's happening?'

Father Emmanuel's voice remained steady. 'They are determining whether he is in balance... or if he is something else entirely.'

The right plate—the one shrouded in shadow—dipped lower.

A shockwave of energy rippled through the chamber.

Theo gasped, clutching his chest as heat surged through his body. His vision blurred. He could feel something inside him resisting, fighting against the weight pressing down on his soul.

The left plate shone brighter.

Then, slowly—agonizingly slow—the imbalance began to correct itself.

The scales stabilized.

A deep silence fell over the chamber.

Father Emmanuel exhaled. 'It is done.'

Truth Unspoken

Theo panted, his limbs shaking. He had expected to feel relief, but instead, a nagging unease curled in his gut.

Gregory narrowed his eyes. 'So? What did it show?'

Father Emmanuel's gaze lingered on Theo before he answered. 'He is stable.'

Lily frowned. 'Stable? That's not exactly an answer.'

The priest turned, his face unreadable. 'It is the only answer that matters for now.'

Theo swallowed hard. Had the scales seen the truth? Had they seen that he wasn't really Theo?

Had they chosen not to reveal it?

The priest's silver eyes met his. There was something there. Something knowing.

But he said nothing.

As the weight of the ritual chamber settled behind them, Theo still felt the ghostly echo of the Scales of Virgo in his chest. The memory of that brief, agonizing moment—when it felt like something was pulling him apart—had yet to fade. He kept his steps steady, forcing himself to move forward despite the unease coiling inside him.

Gregory walked beside him, arms crossed, his usual smirk dulled into something more unreadable. Lily, however, kept glancing at Father Emmanuel, as if expecting him to say something.

It was Emmanuel who finally broke the silence. "There is more you must understand, Theo. The trial has confirmed what I already suspected, but knowledge will do more for you now than fear."

Theo hesitated. "What do you mean?"

Emmanuel's expression remained unreadable. "It is time you learned what it means to be bound by an Archetype."

With that, he turned down a dimly lit corridor, the air growing cooler as they walked. Unlike the ritual chamber, which had been etched with celestial markings and the weight of divine presence, the hallway that led them forward was lined with ancient stonework. The flickering glow of lanterns revealed faded murals depicting warriors, kings, and figures wreathed in celestial energy—each bearing a symbol above their heads. Some of the symbols Theo recognized from the church ceiling: the twelve Archetypes.

The deeper they went, the more the air changed. It wasn't just colder—it was heavier, thick with something older than the church itself.

Finally, they stopped before a set of double doors, carved with intricate sigils. Theo could see faint glimmers of silver embedded within the wood, forming patterns too complex for him to decipher at a glance.

Emmanuel placed a hand against the door, murmuring something under his breath.

The sigils pulsed.

With a slow, deliberate groan, the doors creaked open, revealing a chamber unlike any Theo had seen before.

A library.

But not just any library—the Archives of Fate.