The silence of the Hall of Records was almost deafening. Aera stood still in the vast expanse, her footsteps swallowed by the ancient stone beneath her. The lanterns hanging from the high ceiling flickered like dying embers, casting erratic shadows on the rows of endless scrolls and ancient tomes.

The air smelled of old parchment and dust, thick with the weight of centuries of judgment. It was a place where time seemed to stand still, where the stories of countless souls were preserved in the cold, indifferent walls.

For a moment, she did nothing but take in the enormity of the hall around her. Each soul, each life—preserved here. The enormity of it all threatened to crush her. There was no turning back now. She had entered the underworld with purpose, but the gravity of her role was now clearer than ever. Aera knew her task was not just about delivering judgment, it was about carrying the weight of every soul's story.

Suddenly, the quiet was broken by a voice, soft and echoing from the shadows.

"Judge Aera," it called.

Aera turned sharply, her eyes narrowing. From the thick mist that clung to the edges of the hall, a figure materialized—a tall, skeletal being cloaked in a tattered black robe. It was not a human figure, not by any means. Its face was a pale, featureless skull, its eyes hollow yet glowing faintly with a ghostly light.

"I am Sable, the Keeper of Lost Judgments," the figure said, its voice a hollow whisper that seemed to reverberate throughout the hall.

"You seek to understand the weight of your new duties. You will learn quickly, Judge, that this place will test not only your judgment but your soul."

Aera felt a chill crawl up her spine at the words.

"What do you mean by 'Lost Judgments' ?" she asked, trying to steady the rising unease in her chest.

Sable tilted his head, his skull-like gaze fixed on her.

"The souls here are not like those who have passed peacefully to the next realm. These are the forsaken. They linger, trapped between life and death, their fates unresolved. They have stories to tell, and some of them... are not so easily forgiven."

Aera felt her pulse quicken. The weight of the responsibility pressed harder on her chest.

"How do I judge them if their fate is already sealed?"

The Keeper stepped closer, his ghostly form trailing wisps of mist.

"That is where your judgment begins. You must listen to their stories. Understand the choices they made in life. Some may be redeemable, others forever lost to their sins. But remember, Judge, mercy is a double-edged sword. Some of these souls will beg for it, but it may not be your place to grant it."

Sable handed her the book, and she took it hesitantly. The tome was cold, the edges frayed as if the weight of its contents had aged it beyond its years. The first page revealed a name: Elyon, the Betrayed Warrior.  As Aera's fingers traced the ancient script, the letters shimmered, shifting into a language she could read.

Elyon's story unfolded before her eyes—he had been a warrior of great renown, respected by his comrades, trusted by his king. But betrayal had torn his life apart. His closest friend, one he had fought alongside in countless battles, had turned on him for power. Elyon had died in agony, betrayed by someone he had once called brother. His death had not been swift. It had been long, drawn out, and filled with unbearable suffering.

Aera's chest tightened as she read, feeling the weight of his betrayal as though it were her own. The warrior's soul was bound here, trapped in an eternal loop of pain, reliving the moment of his death over and over again.

Sable watched her carefully, his hollow gaze unwavering.

"He is one of the forsaken," he murmured.

"He has not found peace, for he cannot forgive himself for his failure to see the treachery coming. He is bound to this realm, unable to move on."

Aera turned the page, her heart heavy with the weight of his torment. She knew what needed to be done, but the question lingered—was it enough to grant him release from this cycle? Was mercy the answer? She glanced at Sable.

"How do I help him?"

Sable's voice grew darker.

"There is no simple answer in the underworld. You must decide, Judge. Some souls are too far gone to be redeemed. Others... may simply need to be heard. The underworld will not offer you easy answers. It will challenge you, test you, break you if it must."

Aera nodded, steeling herself against the growing dread that crawled under her skin. She closed the book and looked up, only to find that the hall was no longer empty. Shadows moved at the edges of her vision—figures drifting, their forms barely visible, but their eyes gleaming in the dim light. She could feel their gazes on her, like a thousand unseen eyes, waiting, watching.

A voice broke the silence once more, this time softer, almost pleading.

"Please, Judge, I did not deserve this fate."

Aera spun around. Standing before her was a young man, pale and gaunt, his face marked by anguish. His eyes were wide, haunted by a sorrow she could not place. His hands were clasped together, as though in prayer.

"What is your name?" Aera asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I was once a merchant," the spirit said, his voice barely audible.

"My family—my wife and children—they still live above. They believe I am still out there, somewhere. I was taken too soon. I was not supposed to die. I am still... waiting."

Aera's heart twisted as she listened to his story. His soul had not been able to move on because his family held onto the belief that he was alive, somewhere out there, waiting to return. The spirit's form flickered, its glow dimming as if fading with the very thought of his loved ones waiting.

She stepped closer, her hand outstretched, feeling the energy of his soul. There was no anger in him, only sorrow, and perhaps a desperate hope. Aera took a deep breath, her decision weighing heavily on her.

"You deserve rest," she murmured.

The light around the spirit brightened, then slowly faded as he disintegrated into the mist. For a moment, Aera felt a strange sense of peace, knowing she had helped him find closure. Yet the hall around her remained cold, heavy, as if more souls lingered, waiting.

As the mist swirled around her, Sable's hollow voice spoke again.

"Do not forget, Judge, there are those who will not thank you. Many will resent you for taking their lives away. But in the end, you must judge with a clear heart, even if the weight of their pain burdens you."

Aera stood there, the flickering lanterns casting long shadows on the walls, her heart heavy with the knowledge of what lay ahead.

"I will not falter," she whispered, more to herself than to Sable.

"I will carry their stories. I will give them the judgment they deserve."

Sable gave a quiet nod.

"Then come. The next soul awaits."

And with that, Aera stepped forward into the unknown, her path uncertain but resolute, knowing that her journey through the underworld had only just begun.