If the other Judges had been lesser beings, they would be shifting uncomfortably in their seats right now. Actually, Zakariel the Fox was shifting in her seat and alternating between glaring at Ozriel and at Makiel.
The Court was not pleased.
Suriel spoke up on their behalf. “Why did you hide it from us, Makiel?”
“I will hold myself accountable to the Court of Seven after this trial,” the Hound said. “I am not afraid to atone for my actions.”
“According to my predictions, the system still had decades of stability left, if not centuries,” Ozriel pointed out. “How was I to know that the Hound had ruined everything?”
Makiel slammed his fist down like a gavel. “You abandoned your duty. Now entire worlds lie dead.”
Screens appeared behind him, showing cracked planets, branches of Fate dissolving into nothing, bodies strewn into the Void, and hosts of feasting Fiends that twisted reality with their very presence.
“Their blood is on your hands,” Makiel declared.
“And your hands are pristine!” Ozriel shouted. His face was twisted with fury, and now he more resembled the man Suriel remembered. Not Eithan, but Ozriel. “All blood we spill is on my hands, and mine alone! Who else can decide when enough is enough? Who else has the right?”
“We are a Court!” declared Razael, the Wolf. “No one has the right to make such decisions alone! And you made our job impossible by leaving without informing us!”
“I told you what I was going to do. I told you for centuries. Every time, I was forced to wait or face consequences. Just kill a few more for us, Ozriel. Disobedience is treason. Why would we try to find a better way when this one is working?”
Ozriel sneered up at Makiel. “If the burden is so easy to carry, do it yourself.”
“Arrogant!” Makiel shouted. “The weight of all worlds does not rest on your shoulders alone! You are one component in a system that—no. You know all this, you just blind yourself to it.” The Hound turned to the rest of the Court. “He has no excuses. He is a coward who hid while all existence fell apart.”
A crack echoed through the Hall of Judgment.
Fissures spiraled through the cage surrounding the Seat of the Accused. Reality warped and Suriel’s Presence squealed warnings as the air darkened around the Reaper of Worlds.
“There is one person here,” Ozriel said quietly, “who attempted to solve this problem. I even tried to do it within your rules. I looked for any solution, any at all, that didn’t start with burning your world to the ground.”
Cracks spread, and some of the other Judges had summoned their armor. Darkness spread from him like a tree of shadow.
Ozriel drew himself up to his full height and white hair spread out behind him. “I have but one regret: I was too weak to spill just a little more blood. I should have butchered you all!”
Intricate seals spinning with runes bloomed into sapphire light around the Seat of the Accused as Gadrael reinforced the defenses, Razael had her blazing sword in hand and was gathering enough power to crack Sanctum in half, and the Ghost spread her will out in a nebulous working.
They would subdue Ozriel. He might be a match for any of them individually, but not for all of them together.
But Suriel took over.
She spread her will out to the space around Ozriel and she exercised her authority to restore it. The cracks in the cage filled in, the darkness retreated, and the twisting space of the world faded to normal.
Ozriel gave up. He slumped in place, and weariness crossed over his face. Then he tossed Suriel an apologetic half-smile, and she saw a bit of his disguise in him. The new person he’d become.
He cleared his throat. “Ah, excuse me. You’d think I could control my temper better at my age.”
“Now you all see what I have seen,” Makiel said. He had his arms crossed and had made no move to subdue the Reaper. “He is a deranged child gifted with power, and his talents make him think he is the most important being in all creation. I move to strip him of his authority as a Judge and relegate him to what he should have always been: a living weapon.”
Suriel watched Ozriel. Before, he would have risen to the bait and struck back at Makiel. Her Presence could model it accurately.
Instead, he shrugged and grinned. “Can I keep the armor? A white set would clash with my hair, you see.”
Suriel examined him. She spun out the different versions of this trial. Then she picked her preferred one and turned to Makiel.
He had felt her reading Fate and was waiting for her to speak, though he had surely seen which path she would choose.