The air in the cavern grew colder, even as the rivers of magma churned below. The silence of the four men was heavy, punctuated only by the rhythmic, sickening thrum of the violet light. For eons, these men had been the architects of judgment; now, they were the ones being weighed.
"I cannot do it," Malakor whispered, clutching his chest where his heart beat a steady, terrified rhythm. "To be a Hollow... to never feel the warmth of the suns or the weight of a thought again... I would be a walking corpse."
"And what will you be when the 1st Paradi turns to dust?" Thorn roared, his voice trembling as he looked at his right hand. "If the Sovereign's heart is not corrected, there will be no High Court for you to wander, Malakor. We will all be swallowed by the Void."
"Vesper is right," Kaelum rasped, his hand on his throat. "We serve the Law. The Law is greater than our limbs."
Vesper, the seer, stared into the swirling galaxies of Xylo's eyes. "There is a Great Fixer in the Upper Paradis. Once the realms are stable and the Sovereign is himself again, we can seek a restoration. We can have new parts forged from celestial light."
Xylo's laughter was like the sound of a bone snapping. "Restoration? You dreamers. But I am a generous merchant." He waved a spindly hand, and four glass jars appeared on a stone altar, filled with a viscous, silver fluid. "I shall give you replacements. Fake hands that move, fake eyes that see, fake tongues that wag, and a fake heart that pumps nothing but duty. You will look complete to the world. No one will know you are broken... except for yourselves."
One by one, they stepped forward. The screams that echoed through the 3rd Hello were not heard by the living, but they vibrated through the foundations of the afterlife.
Thorn gave his hand, feeling the phantom itch of a gavel he could no longer hold.
Kaelum gave his tongue, his voice replaced by a mechanical, hollow resonance.
Vesper gave his eyes, the galaxies of his foresight replaced by dull, grey glass.
Malakor was the last. When Xylo reached into his chest and pulled out the pulsing organ, the Judge's face went completely flat. The light of emotion died in his eyes, replaced by a terrifying, robotic calm.
Xylo handed Vesper a small, unremarkable silver locket. It was cold to the touch and pulsed with a faint, oily darkness.
"The Hatred Charm," Xylo hissed. "It must be worn by the woman. Close to her skin. Once it is around her neck, the Shroud will activate. The Sovereign will look at her and see only a festering rot. He will hear her voice and hear the screams of the damned. He will loathe her very existence."
"How do we get her to wear it?" Kaelum asked, his new voice sounding like metal scraping metal. "She trusts no one."
"That," Xylo said, retreating back into the shadows of the cave, "is a problem for men of such high intelligence and sacrifice. My part is done. The toll is paid."
The four Judges ascended back toward the High Court. They walked with a stiff, unnatural grace, their new "fake" parts blending perfectly with their regal attire. To any observer, they looked as they always had, but inside, they were a collection of clockwork and cold intentions.
As they reached the obsidian gates of the palace, another tremor shook the ground, more violent than the last. A spire in the distance groaned and tilted.
"We have the weapon," Malakor said, his voice devoid of any fear or hesitation now that his heart was gone. "But the girl is clever. If we approach her, she will know it is a trap. We need a proxy. Someone she expects to see."
Thorn looked toward the servants' quarters, where a disgraced maid was currently scrubbing the floors of the a thousand rooms.
The Judges stood in a jagged circle within the shadow of the palace gates, their movements stiff and their expressions eerily vacant. Even with their "fake" parts, the transition had left them cold. They were debating how to manipulate Sana when a new shadow detached itself from the obsidian pillars.
It was Judge Kaelo.
Unlike the others, Kaelo's eyes still held the spark of true life, and his heart still beat with a fierce, unwavering loyalty to the Sovereign. He had watched the tremors from the high balconies, and he had seen the way Zoe's gaze lingered on the empty hallways where Marianne had walked.
"You are carrying the scent of the 3rd Hello," Kaelo said, his voice cutting through the mechanical hum of the Council's new forms. "And you hold a darkness in your hands that does not belong in the High Court."
Thorn stepped forward, his new hand clenching into a fist. "The Sovereign is compromised, Kaelo. The 2nd Paradi is a graveyard of shattered crystal. We have done what was necessary."
"A Hatred Charm?" Kaelo's gaze fell on the pulsing locket in Vesper's grey-glass hands. He let out a cold, sharp breath. "If you try to force that on the woman, she will fight."
Kaelo stepped into the center of the group, his presence commanding. "I do not wish to see our home crumble. I have served Zoe since the first star was hung in the High Court. If this mortal woman has truly shaken his heart, then she is a cancer that must be excised. But it must be done by his hand, not yours."
"And why should we trust you?" Malakor asked, his voice flat. "You have always been Zoe's shadow. How do we know you won't take this charm and cast it into the magma to protect his 'happiness'?"
Kaelo's eyes flashed with a righteous, icy fire. "Happiness? Look around you, Malakor! The sky is turning the color of a bruised lung. The pillars are weeping. I am not protecting his happiness; I am protecting his sanctity. A Sovereign who feels is a Sovereign who fails. If I can prove she is the cause of the tremors, I will ensure Zoe hands her the locket himself. He will believe it is a gift of protection—a seal to keep her safe. His own love will be the delivery system for his hatred."
The three High Judges exchanged glances. The logic was cruel, but perfect. If Zoe gave her the "gift," the betrayal would be absolute. The Shroud would activate the moment he fastened it around her neck.
"Who would want to see their home crumble?" Kaelo challenged, his voice rising over the sound of a distant spire collapsing. "I will take the charm. He trusts me above all others. He will listen."
Vesper slowly extended his hand, the silver locket dangling from a chain that seemed to writhe like a dying snake. Kaelo took it, the coldness of the charm seeping into his skin. He didn't flinch.
"Go," Kaelo commanded. "Hide your hollowed faces and your glass eyes. I will go to the Sovereign's chambers. I will see if the 'Devil Killer' has truly stolen the soul of the Law."
As Kaelo turned toward the Sovereign's private wing, the ground gave a violent, sickening lurch.