The Judge existed as his orange column of light, radiating across a void that wasn’t space. Around him were faint echoes of doors and halls from The Realm Between, but he was no longer needed there. His pillar of orange light extended endlessly into the void, yet within it he saw everything he required. The mortal plane spun before him, its fragile universes home to galaxies filled with worlds teeming with life, conflict, and ambition.

  And among it all, one small figure walked forward, blood still drying on her fur. Lucia Silverbreeze.

  The Judge did not wonder whether she would succeed. Curiosity was for those who did not already know the board. She would win, or she would fail; both outcomes remained possible. What mattered was that she had been placed in the world where her odds, however slim, were greatest. If she grew as he required, she might one day stand close enough to The Broker to challenge him.

  If she did not, then another would be chosen.

  On the far edge of his awareness, laughter rippled like cracks in glass. The Broker lounged in his conjured throne, laughing to himself. He shuffled pieces onto a board only he could see. He kept adding more, filling his side until the board looked more like a battlefield than a game.

  The Judge had only one piece.

  But he moved it with precision.

  Luther and Velleigh weren’t pieces on the board. No, The Broker was playing a bigger game. His actions on Palaidra were nothing more than a distraction. He saw The Broker’s hand in Luther’s fall, not to advance some hidden goal but to slow or disrupt The Judge. A fleck of dust on the board. It did not alter the endgame.

  The Judge turned away. There was other work to be done.

  Far removed from reality, something stirred: the Old Ones. Someone roused them from their endless slumber. Their awakening rattled the foundations of existence. The individual had been caught. Their trial must be held and sentences decided.

  He let his awareness settle. The Broker would make his moves. The Judge would answer in time.

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  For now, the piece he had placed on the board still stood. And that was enough.

  The Judge folded inward. His endless pillar contracted, focusing itself into a narrow filament of light that slipped between folds of unreality, bending space and twisting time.

  He emerged into a chamber with walls made of an infinite compression of time. If anyone would step through them, they would be trapped in them until the end of time and then cease to exist. Another column already stood there, this one a deep violet, pulsing with a rhythm that suggested it breathed, though no lungs existed.

  “You saw it as well,” the violet one intoned, voice reverberating through the void more as a thought than a sound.

  The Judge answered, his tone even and clinical. “I did. The Old Ones stir. They were roused. What is your report, Sentinel?”

  The violet column of The Sentinal dimmed, then flared again. “We have the culprit. A younger being who tampered with currents beyond their understanding. The act was reckless but intentional.”

  “Have they been contained?”

  “Yes.” The violet column flickered once. “Their trial is already being prepared.” The violet one seemed to lean closer, its pulse deepening. “And the Old Ones themselves?”

  “They cannot be allowed to roam unchecked,” The Judge said. “Their return would fracture every fabric of reality ever to have been shaped and those still to come. Send The Order to find and bind them. They will be collected, one by one, and placed back into their slumber.”

  The violet being remained silent for a time. Then he said, “And The Broker? Do you suspect his hand in this?”

  “He schemes.” The pillar of orange light drifted towards the walls. “If this was his doing, we’ll have to interrogate the culprit. However, this isn’t the goal, only a step to his plans. Even I can’t see where he spent much of his time. All I can see is what he allows me to see. The Old Ones are our greatest clue to his goal.”

  “Will they tell you?”

  The Judge’s light burned brighter. “No. Our primary task should be to prevent as much damage as possible. Even as we do that, we should watch where they were going and if The Broker interacts with any of them.”

  The void rippled, as though all of existence had taken a breath.

  The violet column dimmed, its presence withdrawing. “Then I will return to my post. I will notify you when the first Old One is secured.”

  The Judge remained alone once more. His light spread back outward, stretching across realities, observing, and calculating as he left the prison.

  The Broker laughed at the edges of his awareness, piling his board high with pieces. But the Judge did not turn his gaze.

  The slimmest possibility entered the cosmic being’s thoughts. Could Lucia Silverbreeze be The Broker’s target still? The Broker is playing a dangerous game.

  Lucia’s success may be more important than ever before. But until The Broker broke a rule, The Judge could do nothing. So, while he waited, he moved to stand guard over The Voice’s created world, Centari. He would stand guard, upholding his end of their bargain.

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