Justice

''This was wrong. This was not the Fade. This should not be.''

The air was empty. His entire self, weighted somehow. As the last flashes of the foul demon's magic faded from view, Justice was able to see exactly what had occurred.

"Maleficarum! A weakened Veil!" He stood clumsily, the plate armor of templar make clanging like ominous gongs against the Tower's stone floor. "The death of the demon should have sent you back to your world. Not I. The place of a spirit is not in the mortal world!" Something rose in his throat. He recognized it from the dreams of mortal past, flashes and hints of memories forbidden to denizens of the spirit realm.

Panic. This would not serve him. This would not correct this injustice.

He looked at the assembled group then, their faces a mix of confusion and fear that he imagined to perhaps resemble his own. Instinctively, he raised the new hand to his face, ripping the gauntlet off in order to confirm his suspicions.

The hand was charred, nearly blackened, and the fingers that ran down his visage rained flecks of ruined skin and debris like macabre confetti through the air. The man whose body he now possessed had fallen to a rage demon, no doubt. The air was still thick with the sense of them, and such thoughts even now made him recoil in disgust. He glanced back at the capable group, and found their expressions to again, be much the same.

''Ah. A decaying body.'' What was once an abstract concept to him was a dread of these mortals. He quickly replaced the gauntlet, using his new, unblinking eyes to look at the rest of his...body. The armor was not unusual, but something around his neck....

He pulled it into his sight, opening it. It was a woman, young by mortal standards. Lightened hair, a smile-

''"Aura? Aura, darling, where have you been?"

The woman in the locket appeared, face wet with tears. "I don't want you to go, Kristoff. The Tower, the Mages... what if something was to happen, Kristoff? If my only brother-"

He had embraced her then, a potent mix of sadness and affection coursing through him. No. Greater than affection. Something else.

"I will, sister. I will."''

The memory was gone as soon as it came, but no less powerful. Justice stood silent in the hall, regarding the locket before turning his attentions back to the assembled men and women.

"His name was Kristoff," he said simply. "He fell fighting the demons that lurk these halls still. I will finish what he could not."