Alan
All I could hear was silence, all I could feel was nothingness, and all I could see was the darkness around me.
I was getting transported. I could tell that much. It wasn't too fast, but I felt it. Eventually, though, I stopped.
I looked down to see my hands resting idly by my side, and upon lifting them with ease, I realised that this void was just my mind. Was I really that blank?
Pushing that thought aside, I stepped forward. The 'ground' I stood on was black, dark enough for me to assume it wasn't there.
I looked to my left. Nothingness. I looked to my right. Darkness. I looked ahead of me, and flinched. There, a woman with red hair sat on a throne, watching me from a platform above. There were no steps leading up, and yet, the woman stood.
"Greetings, Alan," she said, stepping forward. Every step she took lowered her level, as if there were invisible steps leading to me.
I took an involuntary step back as I muttered, "Greetings to you as well, Miss…?"
"Cynthia. You may call me that."
'Cynthia… Why the hell is she here?!' I thought.
I cleared my throat, though it remained slightly dry. "So… Why are we here?"
"For your Reflection, of course. This is the first time I've been in a Reflection, so don't ask me much."
"So what must I do now?"
"Open your eyes, Alan."
I paused. Open my eyes? How else would I be able to see her?
"No, not like that," she continued patiently. "I meant open them."
'Open my eyes…?' I closed my eyes, and felt my surroundings. Nothingness. But this was my Reflection. This was my mind. I opened my eyes, and envisioned a space. Magnes. The streets were as lively as ever, and all the people I knew ran around. Strangely, their faces were blurred. Perhaps I had forgotten what my own people looked like?
"Good, good," she hummed. "As you know, each reflection has a goal to achieve, and this one is simple." She stood just two steps away from me. "Do my job."
"As in…?"
"I want you to judge people, Alan. I want you to decide whether they deserve the mercy or the spite of death."
"Mercy? Spite?! How the hell would I-"
"You," she cut me off, "are currently me." I looked down to see myself, or I suppose Cynthia. Somehow, I was the woman who judged death? "Look before you, Alan. What do you see?"
I looked around to see my villagers. While I missed them, I knew that they were dead and wouldn't return. "All I see is my past," I said, trying to make my feminine voice deeper.
"Look closer, Alan. Look at that woman holding a child."
I turned to see a woman in her late twenties fussing over her child. Her clothes, and her child's clothes, were torn and ragged. I had known her, and talked with her before. "I know her. What about her?"
"Look again, Alan."
My eyes turned to look at Cynthia, who was watching me. "What do you…?" My eyes flashed toward the woman, only to see her burning alive. The white flames. "Why-?!"
"Why is this happening inside your mind? You tell me. You should know yourself best."
My eyes were blown wide, despite me seeing this exact scene before. Perhaps I had never healed, either. Looking around, I noticed that no one else was burning, or even noticed. "Is this what you do? Watch people die?"
Cynthia shook her head slowly. "I look into their past and present. Their future is in my hands. For now, I want you to look into her past, Alan."
I narrowed my eyes at the burning woman, before slowly stepping towards her. I tentatively touched the woman's shoulder, and I saw it.
Her life flashed before me in an instant, and I saw all that she did, all that she thought, and all that she wanted.
I had thought that the woman was a good person, but what I saw… It changed that perspective.
The woman was a homeless single mom who was widowed young. While she was a kind person to me, she had done numerous things. She had stolen on multiple counts, tricked to get some bread, and lied even more.
But all she did… it was for her child, was it not? She barely ate any of the food she stole, and all the money she got was for her child.
Was that a bad thing to do?
"Now do you see?" Cynthia murmured.
"What… What do you want me to do?"
"As I said, judge her. Does she deserve peace, or spite?"
"Peace," I said immediately.
"And why? Has she not committed a series of crimes?"
"She did it so her child could live. Isn't it 'the survival of the fittest?' Is that so wrong?"
Cynthia hummed. "We can always go back if you change your mind. Now look there."
I turned to see a friend of mine, Darren, who was famous around us teenagers for being one of the two people our age who ventured outside Magnes, with the other being Lyra. Once again, he burst into flames.
I stepped forward and touched his shoulder. What I saw was… opening, in a way. This boy had gone out of Magnes with the pretence of coming back with resources from other villages, and that is what he did. But he had also brought about substances.
I was, on paper, the adopted son of the mayor, so I had permission to roam the hallways. Every now and then, I overheard reports of substance abusers having their lives ruined. While it was a small portion of the total people in Magnes, the fact remained that he had ruined their lives.
And worst of all, he made the most money off of selling them to people younger than eighteen.
What he did was absolutely terrible… But did he deserve to suffer? Yes, he ruined lives, but he likely wanted to make money.
A lightly slapped myself. 'No. He did wrong. His actions affected those around him more. He… He was a friend, though…'
"Do not let your emotions sway you, Alan," Cynthia said, turning away from me.
'Right. I should be just. Am I softer than I thought?'
"He deserves suffering," I sighed.
"Are you sure?"
I blinked slowly. Was she just asking for formality, or was it the wrong decision I had made? "Yes, I'm sure."
"Very well," she nodded. "Onto the next one. Look there."
I turned to see a woman who looked suspiciously like Lyra. It was her mother, Penny. Touching her shoulder, I saw it all once more. She, much like Lyra, was a sword user. A terrific one, at that. But what I saw made me wonder what Lyra would be like later on in her life.
When Lyra had visited a neighboring village once, she mentioned thinking she was being followed once, before the feeling ceased to exist. I didn't think much of it… But now I knew.
Lyra had indeed been followed, likely by competitors who lost in the sword championship, but they were dealt with by her mother. All of them were killed. But from what she managed to wring out of them before they died, they planned on torturing Lyra.
"You want me to judge my only friend's mother?"
"As I said, do not let your emotions sway what is right."
What the hell even was 'right'?! She did that to protect Lyra! She killed, yes, but it was so that her child could live. And she didn't even let Lyra think she was in danger. Was that… bad?
"Cynthia. Was Penny judged guilty?"
"I am not going to tell you that."
'Figures. I'd be surprised if she just told me.' I thought, rubbing my chin. 'Killing is wrong… But is it so wrong to do it for survival?What if I had a daughter who would be tortured? Would I have done anything different?'
I let out a sigh. I.. could not do this. But it was wrong. She killed them. She could have broken a bone or two, but she didn't. That was wrong.
'Should I judge the actions or the reason?' I thought. 'Most of these people were forced to do things… But Penny was not as bad as Darren, was she? Darren ruined the lives of so many people for money, while Penny did it for Lyra.'
I clutched my head. This was wrong. She was wrong… But it was not bad, was it? "I judge her not guilty. She deserves peace."
"Are you sure?"
"I… I am."
Cynthia hummed softly, before walking a bit further. "Look there, Alan."
I looked to see my adopted father, the Mayor. I… didn't want to do this. But I had to. I walked up to his burning form and placed a hand on his shoulder. I saw his life.
I saw his birth, his childhood, his adulthood, his rise to power, and everything else.
I lingered on the memory of him signing the papers to my adoption longer than I would like to admit.
But I saw his crimes as well. Magnes was by no means a terrible country. Yes, the occasional druggie or abuser ruined the 'perfect' reputation, but there were perhaps twenty of those kinds of people out of the hundreds. And all of this was because of our Mayor.
Prior to his reign, Magnes was poor, small, and disease torn. But he revived it. Magnes was one of the smallest independent villages in Auren, and it was all because of him.
But that was the surface. What lay beneath was not like that.
Murders, cover ups, scandals, he had done it all. Not directly, however. He pulled strings behind the curtain, and made everyone around him weak. How fitting it was that he was not strong, but was less weak than others.
I wondered if there were other people like that…
And yet, I knew for certain that he wanted the best for Magnes. He did it all for Magnes. When I was younger, I didn't get why he would adopt me, but now I knew that he wanted me to succeed his position.
Perhaps he wanted me to win the favour of the people young, and that was why he made me live with most of the villagers.
But still, he did all those things. Penny had done much more than murders, but they were petty. The Mayor operated on a scale unfathomable to most. His influence even stretched towards the capital.
But I had a few questions, and unfortunately, I would never get answers. Not unless I could read his mind… But I could, since I read all of his memories.
Who am I? Where did I come from? Who were my parents? I never questioned it out aloud, but the Mayor knew. From his memories, I was just a child that showed up in a bundle all of a sudden. He didn't hesitate for a moment in adopting me.
But as I grew older, he must have noticed my lack of 'self.' He searched as far as his influence would go for traces of who gave birth to me, but found nothing.
Perhaps I really was alone in this world.
But I had to make my judgement, and that… I could not yet do. His crimes were terrible, but they were for a good reason. Moreover, he was the closest thing to a parent I had.
He had definitely caused suffering to many, and yes, he did deserve to suffer for it, but could I, who could judge him, sentence him guilty?
"I… How do you do this, Cynthia?"
She remained silent for a moment, before softly saying, "I suppose I have gotten numb over these millennia."
'Numbness to deliver justice? I can't tell if that's sad or impressive,' I thought.
"I choose to sentence him guilt-"
I paused midway. Again, he had done this for his village, and in a way, it was because of these actions that our village was thriving. Had he not killed a few, the entire populace of Magnes would have been wiped off, likely. But then again, there were better ways to do it.
"He is guilty," I continued. "I am sure."
Cynthia let out a small hum, and walked towards me. "Look here, Alan." She pointed a slender finger in my direction. I looked back, to see myself, only on fire. I had never touched the white flames myself, but this… was more scarring than I had liked to admit.
"Me? What sins have I committed? How will I even judge myself?"
"Look at your body, Alan. You are currently me."
'She got me there,' I thought. "I have not done anything to warrant myself guilty… right?"
She shook her head. "No, you have not. Not now, at least."
"Not now?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"This is not you, Alan. This is your future self."
I took a step back. 'Me? Future me?! How would I…' I reached over and touched my burning shoulder. This time, I had not received any memories. 'So I'll be judging myself for what I'll be doing in the future…?'
"Also, just so you know, every action changes this world," Cynthia said, looking at the village around us. It had started to burn just like back then. "It may be affect one person, or even an entire race, but actions change the decisions of others."
'So anyone can change the world? That may be, but that is not what is at hand. Will I be a good person ten years from now? Will I think the same? Hell, will I remember or even regret my decision here?'
'There are two ways to go about this. Either I judge myself innocent enough not to suffer, and work towards fulfilling that promise. Or, I could judge myself guilty and… well, I could just be a terrible person. What if I judged myself guilty, but did good? Would I be a liar?'
I blinked slowly. There was always another option, after all. 'What if I…'
"Cynthia," I started, "what do you judge yourself as?"
I had never seen her move a muscle in her face up till that point, but I saw her lips twitch up slightly. "I am currently you. Why don't you tell me?" The smile was gone as quick as it formed.
'There can only be one answer, then,' I concluded.
"I choose to not judge myself. Whether or not I deserve peace or suffering, that is for you to decide in the future."
Cynthia stared at me, before nodding slowly. "Very well," she said, "that is all for me."
I broke into a grin, but it froze the next second. 'That was it for her? Not me?'
"What do you-?" She didn't wait for me to finish speaking before she turned to walk away.
Cynthia looked over her shoulder. "I cannot judge you, Alan. And just so you know, I have judged everyone in history, in the present, and the future. The God of Time has allowed me to peer into lives, so my decisions for these four have been decided already, and you can not change it."
That didn't make sense. She said she could only peer into the past and present, not the future. Does that mean that everyone's fate is already decided, even before their birth?
"I- What?!"
"You… You are just like him," she said, and started to walk away. "Goodbye Alan."
And with that, my world changed.