Conscience Astin wondered, as she walked behind her guards into a long trial room, if a conscience had ever had to make a decision about their own fate before. She had never heard of such a thing, but the law was clear: since she had never officially made an unjust decision, she would have to give her own verdict. Had she been at fault?
If she said that she was guilty and that the King should punish her with death, then she would be sent to the fires at Ghora Nox as punishment for her capital offense. And if she said that she was not guilty she would be making an unjust decision, for she had known that her actions went against Justice from the very beginning. Either way the flames would take her. She would die.
She would die. She would end.
She saw the people watching her only briefly before she knelt and gazed steadily at the white marble tile of the floor. Hot tears rolled down her face as she felt more red cord bind her into her kneeling position and chafe at her skin. Sister Oma had been right: Conscience Astin existed for Justice, not for herself, and now it would take her as it had taken so many others.
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Mercy (Short Story)
FantasyConscience Astin was unaccustomed to staring Justice in the face. She had worked alongside it all her life, sent helpless souls into its unforgiving hands-but she had never faced it as she now did. She had been taught to expect that this day would...
