Chapter 4

Elara held the now-inert old Quill. It felt cold, alien.

She wrapped it carefully and went to the Warden' s station.

Silas and Clara were there, their expressions carefully neutral.

"Here is the Quill of Reckoning," Elara said, handing the wrapped object to Silas. "Keep it safe."

He took it, a flicker of triumph in his eyes before it was masked. "We will, Elara. Have a fruitful Mortal Trial."

"I intend to," she replied, meeting his gaze.

She returned to her chambers. Before leaving, she wove a powerful ward around them, one of her own design, keyed to her unique essence. No one but her should be able to enter.

Then, with the new, unimbued Quill hidden securely on her person, Elara stepped through the portal for her Mortal Trial.

The Mortal Trial was a century in human time, mere days in The Crossroads.

Elara lived many lives, scattered across the American landscape.

She was a teacher in a crumbling inner-city school, fighting for resources, for her students' futures, witnessing systemic neglect and quiet heroism. The new Quill, nestled near her heart, seemed to absorb the frustration, the hope.

She became a corporate lawyer, slick and corrupt, defending the indefensible, seeing how easily justice could be bought and sold. The Quill felt cold, almost resistant, then seemed to record the bitter taste of perverted law.

She was a war veteran, home but not whole, battling PTSD in a world that didn't understand. The Quill thrummed with the echoes of trauma, the courage to face inner demons, the longing for peace.

She was a crusading journalist, chasing a dangerous story, exposing corruption at the highest levels, facing threats and betrayals. The Quill pulsed with the thrill of truth-seeking, the sting of injustice, the weight of consequence.

Through each life, the new Quill changed. It wasn't just absorbing experiences; it was developing a nascent understanding, a character of its own. It felt... alive.

Before her Trial ended, Elara focused all her intent, all her renewed Aura of Authority, into the new Quill.

She placed a binding seal upon it, a complex weave of power and will.

"You will serve only true justice," she whispered to it. "You will write only truth. And any who attempt to misuse you for selfish or corrupt ends will feel the sting of their own deceit, amplified a thousandfold."

The new Quill glowed with a fierce, pure light, accepting the binding.

Elara returned to The Crossroads.

Her arrival was marked by a brilliant celestial display, a cascade of light that announced the return of a significantly amplified Aura of Authority. She felt stronger, her connection to the very fabric of justice more profound.

Silas was waiting, his expression unreadable. He held out the wrapped object. "Your Quill, Elara. As promised."

She took it, the inert old Quill. It felt like a relic from a dead past.

As if on cue, Seraphina appeared. She was clad in Elara' s Adjudicator robes, which now seemed to fit her a little better, as if she' d grown into the stolen power.

"Elara," Seraphina said, her voice sharp. "You return. And I see you have what is mine." She pointed to the old Quill in Elara's hand. "You attempted to steal it before your trial, and now you brazenly display it."

The old Quill in Elara' s hand trembled. It tried to fly towards Seraphina, a weak, pathetic flutter. Even inert, some residual link, or perhaps The Arbiter's influence, remained.

The crowd that had gathered at the commotion gasped. It looked like an admission of guilt.