The Hall of Judgment loomed ahead like a cathedral forged in darkness. Its massive obsidian pillars stretched toward a vaulted ceiling lost in shadows, and its stone walls hummed with ancient magic. The floor was cold beneath Selena's boots, laced with old blood sigils that pulsed faintly beneath her steps. A storm of unease brewed inside her, matching the thick tension saturating the air.
She stood at the edge of the chamber's threshold, watching as Dante knelt at the center of the rune-carved platform. He was shirtless, barefoot, stripped of his title and pride. The beast's mark slithered across his shoulder blades, curling like tendrils of black fire down his spine. It glowed with a dangerous light, shifting in hue as if responding to unseen forces.
Cassius stood beside her, silent and solemn, his eyes heavy with worry. The ancient staff he leaned on was trembling slightly.
"This is tradition?" Selena whispered, her voice hoarse.
