One of the attackers, eyes glowing, voice warped with twisted conviction, pointed straight at me.

  "She calls herself divine," he spat. "But we know the truth. She wields something ancient. Something corrupt."

  "That’s not power from above," another growled. "That’s a curse masquerading as light."

  My chest tightened. The rumors were spreading faster than wildfire. What began as drunken slander had taken root, turning zealots into weapons.

  Behind me, I felt Alec tense again, barely holding himself back.

  They think I’m possessed.

  And yet, they’re the ones foaming at the mouth with murder on their breath.

  I feel it before I see it.

  A ripple in the air. A shift in the charge of the atmosphere, like the world itself had taken a sharp inhale.

  Then, lightning splits the heavens.

  Blinding streaks of white and crimson tear across the darkened sky, colliding like warring dragons. Not natural lightning. Something else. Something alive.

  If not for the enemy at our doorstep, I might have admired it. The way it painted the night like fireworks on a Chinese New Year’s Eve, vibrant and deadly all at once.

  But then, the first bolt strikes.

  A spear of raw power slams into the ground just behind our assailants, scorching the grass into hollowed, smoking craters.

  The electricity should have died there, absorbed by the earth. But it doesn’t.

  Instead, it moves.

  Like a living thing.

  Bolts of crackling white-red energy slither across the lawn, tendrils of pure destruction slithering toward Alec’s feet like vipers drawn to their master.

  And he welcomes them.

  The lightning merges into him, sinking into his skin, filling the air around him with the sharp tang of ozone. His very presence distorts, flickering in and out of visibility, his body breaking apart and reforming with every pulse of power.

  Then.

  He moves.

  One instant, Alec stands beside me. The next, he’s gone, replaced by an afterimage of pure electric fury.

  He reappears in front of our enemies in a jagged, blinking burst, the energy inside him tearing free. Arcs of sentient lightning lash out, seeking flesh, searing bodies, sending men convulsing to the ground one by one.

  Their screams blend into the storm.

  Jamey, despite the carnage, bounces on his heels like an over-excited child. "Ohhh, he is so mad."

  I reach out, not with fear, but with warning.

  We are not allowed to take a life on purpose.

  Alec’s breath shudders, his exhale sparking with residual power. The energy around him crackles, fights, then submits. The bolts slither back to him like obedient serpents, coiling beneath his skin.

  Silence crashes over us like a tidal wave.

  Eric and I step forward, moving carefully through the aftermath.

  Bodies twitch on the ground, some groaning, others too stunned to make a sound.

  Alive.

  Eric exhales, voice barely above a whisper. "They live… thankfully."

  Eric pulls his phone from his pocket, and the moment the call connects, the person on the other end picks up. No ringing. No hesitation.

  "They caught us off guard," Eric says, voice tight with frustration. "And whatever their leaders did to Alec… I think it broke him somehow."

  Silence stretches between them. Then a response, low, clipped, and unimpressed. Whatever was said, it doesn't sit well with Eric. His grip on the phone tightens.

  "They destroyed Max’s property," he presses, voice a quiet storm. "They threatened us. They wouldn’t back down. We have a child with us, for heaven’s sake. Were we supposed to just stand there and let them bully us? Or worse?"

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  Another long pause. Then the person speaks again, their tone final. Eric exhales sharply and ends the call, shoving the phone back into his pocket. He steps closer to me, leans in, and whispers against my ear,

  "The Judicars will be here shortly."

  A jolt runs through me, sharp as a live wire.

  "The Judicars?" I echo, my stomach knotting.

  The mere mention of them is enough to silence entire sects, to make even the most powerful among us tread carefully. They are the enforcers of balance, the Divine Tribunal’s hand of judgment. Where they walk, order follows. Where they decree, fate is sealed.

  They do not take sides. They do not consider circumstances. They only see violations of the laws set by the Tribunal. And Alec… Alec might not come out of this unscathed.

  Glancing at him, I swallow hard. He stands rigid, fists clenched, his breathing erratic. His mind is racing. I can see it in the way his eyes shift, as if calculating every possible outcome, every escape.

  I step forward and grab his biceps, forcing him to focus on me.

  "Alec," I say, steady but firm. "You need to calm down before they get here."

  He doesn’t respond. His jaw works, but no words come out.

  Eric moves beside me, clasping my hand, his touch grounding. "Max… you can’t issue a decree," he murmurs. "Not this time. Alec is at his breaking point. He’s not in his right mind."

  He gestures toward him. "Look at him, he’s not even registering what we’re saying."

  Samuel, standing behind Alec, exhales heavily. Then, in one swift motion, he chops the side of Alec’s neck. Alec barely has time to react before his body sags, unconscious before he hits the floor.

  I whip around, glaring. "Samuel!"

  He shrugs, completely unbothered. "Tell them he fainted."

  A beat of stunned silence. Then, outside, the air thickens, charged with an unseen weight.

  And then, they arrive.

  Not in pairs. Not in small numbers. In multitude.

  The Judicars. The unwavering, incorruptible sentinels of the Divine Tribunal. They have come to pass judgment.

  And they must have already heard what I did earlier today.

  An elderly man steps forward, his presence alone commanding silence. "You must be Max." His voice is measured, devoid of warmth.

  He introduces himself as Gabriel, the leader of this pack of Judicars. Behind him, twelve others stand at the ready. A considerable force for an event like this.

  His stare is unnerving, not hostile, but unreadable. There’s something ancient about him, something detached, as though he abandoned human emotion long ago.

  I glance down at his extended hand before shaking it. "Yes. I am."

  Around us, the Judicars move with eerie precision, weaving through the fallen bodies. They don’t speak. They don’t hesitate. They are not here to judge morality. Only to enforce the Tribunal’s law.

  Gabriel studies me, then Eric, peeling back layers I would rather keep hidden.

  "We were informed of your… visit from these men," he states. "We are here to determine what transpired."

  Through clenched teeth, I suppress the fury burning in my chest. "I don’t like the term ‘visit.’ Visiting implies invitation, civility. These men did not come as guests."

  I point at the bodies sprawled across the ground. "They came in numbers, armed with threats and intent. If we hadn’t fought back, we wouldn’t be having this conversation."

  Gabriel doesn’t react. He doesn’t acknowledge right or wrong. Only the facts.

  "I did not mean to offend you, Max," he says, smooth as glass, void of warmth. "I only wish to uncover the truth. Can we do that?"

  My jaw locks, refusing to let words escape. I nod instead.

  Gabriel’s gaze sweeps across the battlefield, slow and deliberate, before settling on Alec. Unconscious, but alive. His expression doesn’t shift, carved from something colder than stone. Yet, for a fleeting breath, his dark eyes glint silver, a flicker of recognition passing like a shadow behind glass.

  "This is dangerous," one of the other Judicars murmurs, casting Alec a wary glance.

  Gabriel raises a hand, silencing him. But the words linger, hanging in the air like an open wound.

  Dangerous? Why? Because of what Alec did? Or because of what he is?

  Gabriel turns back to me. "By your own admission, these individuals came with ill intent. That does not concern us. What does concern us, however, is the response they received."

  His gaze sharpens. "The Tribunal has strict laws governing the use of power in retaliation. Your friend did not just defend. He annihilated."

  He lets the word hang, like a stone in the throat of everyone present.

  Then his eyes flick back to me.

  "And you," he continues slowly, "are already the subject of… spiritual dispute. I’ve heard what’s being said. That what you carry is not divine, but something cloaked in the appearance of righteousness."

  A coldness ripples through me.

  There it was. Spoken aloud.

  "We are not here to entertain rumors," Eric said, stepping forward, voice steel.

  Gabriel tilted his head slightly, but said nothing.

  "No, you’re here to look for proof," I said, my voice sharper than intended. "And I know exactly how you plan to find it."

  Eric stiffens beside me. "We were outnumbered," he says, voice clipped.

  Gabriel barely acknowledges him. His focus remains fixed on me.

  He’s waiting.

  The Judicars do not serve fairness. They weigh the scales of power. And tonight, Alec tipped them too far.

  Or did I?

  I exhale slowly, forcing my voice to remain steady. "They were relentless. If Alec hadn’t …"

  Gabriel lifts a hand. The conversation ends with that single gesture.

  "We will decide whether the actions taken were justified."

  A shiver crawls down my spine. We. Not him alone. All of them.

  The Judicars move in eerie unison, their presence suffocating. They begin securing the fallen, those still groaning, others long unconscious. Their efficiency is unsettling. No wasted movement. No hesitation.

  Then, Gabriel does something unexpected.

  He extends his hand toward me, palm up. Steady. Expectant. A shimmer stirs in the air above it, delicate and deliberate. Then, without sound, a butterfly emerges. Tiny. Radiant. Every color of the rainbow woven into its wings like stained glass. It flutters once before settling on his palm, impossibly light, impossibly still.

  "I need to see," he says simply.

  My breath catches.

  Eric tenses. "That’s not necessary."

  Gabriel tilts his head slightly. For the first time, something flickers across his otherwise expressionless face. Not amusement, but certainty.

  "It is."

  I know what he’s asking. A memory extraction. A Judicar ability that unravels events exactly as they happened. Undeniable. Inescapable.

  If I let him in, there will be no debate. No argument. No defense. He will see everything. Alec’s rage. The way the lightning moved through him. The moment he turned our enemies into collateral damage.

  I swallow hard.

  Gabriel waits.

  The Judicars watch.

  And suddenly, I wonder… is Alec really the one in danger tonight?

  That moment when Gabriel held out his hand, and the rainbow butterfly appeared, I held my breath while writing it. ????

  ? Alec’s lightning nearly crossed the line.

  ?? And Max? She barely held the storm within her from striking back.

  Power without reverence invites judgment.

  And now, the Tribunal is watching.

  ?? Thank you for walking beside Max, Alec, and the team—one step, one decree, one storm at a time.