The Nameless Heir-Chapter 87: The Field of Judgement

He only stopped after putting enough distance between himself and the palace.

He was in the middle of nowhere, just an open stretch of land—empty and still. This was where the Field of Judgment lay.

He took a slow breath, grounding himself, making sure he didn’t mess up. The Field of Judgment waited, and so did the Three Judges, who decided the fate of every soul that entered this place.

Using the edge of his own nail, he dug into his finger until blood came out slow.

Just then, the air went quiet, still. Like nothing was near—not even a single soul. Just filled with heavy silence, like the Underworld knew what was about to happen.

He held out his hand.

Blood gathered at his fingertip and dropped to the ground. The earth gave a faint hiss, like that one drop was exactly what it needed.

He lowered his voice, not for secrecy, but it looked and sounded cooler in his head. It didn’t need to be shouted. It only needed to be spoken.

"I am Kael Voss, heir to the crown of shadow, son of the Underworld’s law.

I do not beg. I do not plead.

I call the earth to open, and judgment to rise.

Let the field reveal itself.

Let the scales remember who holds the right to rule."

The blood sank, and the ground started to split.

A faint rumble passed through the earth—low and slow, like the realm itself was waking.

Before him, the earth cracked open in a perfect line. From that line, two slabs of dark stone began to rise on either side. They moved slowly, like doors pulled open by an unseen hand, revealing a passage that was welcoming him.

He stepped through the doorway. Instantly, light drained from the air like it was being pulled away. Overhead, the sky flattened into a dull, gray sheet. Even the ground looked wrong—too smooth, too still, as if time had skipped this place entirely. Like he was no longer in the Underworld... but somewhere else. Somewhere more depressing. Empty. Hollow.

The chamber looked old. Older than the gods—maybe even older than time. The air held no warmth, no life. Just stillness.

He walked deeper into the chamber. Every step landed hard, dragging sound across the stone like a warning. There were no guards—just the three men—and the weight of their verdicts was not something to be questioned.

On the left sat Aeacus—his face carved like stone, silver beard, his eyes cold as steel. He held the keys of the Underworld, ancient and rusted, still heavy with authority.

On the right, Rhadamanthus—tall, dark-eyed, wrapped in robes that bore the faint scent of fire and law. His hands were clasped, unmoving, but his voice could level kingdoms.

And in the center... Minos, the King of Crete, the final judge. He sat straight. Regal. Crownless, but never needing one.

Their eyes followed him.

Not one of them blinked.

As Kael walked, the hall seemed to respond. Slower. Heavier. Like the realm itself recognized who had entered.

Each step landed with quiet force. Not filled with threats. Just control—steady and absolute.

He didn’t need to speak.

The way he moved was enough.

The one on the left—Aeacus—gripped the key of the Underworld in both hands. His voice came first, old and dry, like cracked stone.

"Your time has not come yet, boy."

To Aeacus’s right, Rhadamanthus opened his eyes slowly. His tone was quieter, but it carried deeper.

"You are not here to be judged.

Your thread still spins. Your end has not been written.

This field is not for kings... but for their echoes."

Kael didn’t flinch. He gave a slow nod, but his voice remained steady.

"You are indeed right. I came to seek guidance."

They studied him for a moment.

"So why does the son of Hades stand before us now—not as a soul, but as a question?"

Kael’s gaze rose—respectful, steady.

"The Three Fates sent me.

I seek the means to protect my realm—to make it so that no god may cross into it without knowing they are unwelcome."

"Ask away, Son of Hades."

"I was told Minos would know how."

Minos didn’t speak right away.

He took one long breath, then stepped down from his throne.

"If I give you this... seal—this tether strong enough to stop even Olympus..."

He met Kael’s eyes.

"Then I will ask something in return. A soul. One that has eluded this field for far too long."

Kael’s gaze sharpened.

"Who?"

Minos’s voice grew low. Absolute.

"Daedalus.

The architect of the Labyrinth. The man who defied gods.

Who buried his soul behind riddles and false death."

"He has dodged judgment for centuries. Hidden himself inside his own creation.

I want him brought here. No illusions. No games. Just the soul."

Kael didn’t hesitate.

"Fine. Just tell me where to find him."

Minos paused again. A slow grin touched his lips—not amusement, but recognition.

"He’s the only one who can build what you need.

The Labyrinth itself holds the answer."

"He can forge you a passage no god could enter without the right path.

A barrier born of design, not force."

"But once you’re done using him..."

Minos’s eyes darkened.

"He comes here. To me. He faces his judgment."

Kael nodded once, firm.

"Then we have a deal."

Minos’s gaze didn’t waver.

He raised a hand, slow and deliberate, and pointed behind Kael, toward the horizon where the Field of Judgment faded into mist. Minos stepped back, voice dropping into something quieter, older.

"You’ll find him on an island that no map remembers.

It drifts. Tied to no shore. Forgotten by Olympus.

Cursed by Poseidon. No birds fly above it. No dead wash upon it. Even the stars turn their backs on it."

Kael’s eyes narrowed.

"How do I find it?"

Minos lifted one hand and traced a symbol in the air—a broken spear crossed over an owl’s eye.

"Look for the mark of Athena.

He respects only her. He always has."

"Somewhere in the southern waters, beyond where even the sirens call—you’ll see it.

Carved into stone. Half-buried in salt."

"It’s not the island that hides. It’s the world that forgets."

Minos looked back toward the stone of his throne.

"Follow that symbol... and you will find Daedalus.

But once you do—remind him of the debt he still owes this realm.

Remind him that no maze can protect him from judgment forever."

"How do I find that island?" he questioned.

Minos extended his hand, and a pale scroll rose from the earth. It was wrapped in kelp, sealed with a dark stone carved in the shape of a labyrinth.

"Give this to one born of the sea. Only they will know how to read it properly."

He paused, then added:

"But if you must speak it aloud..."

His voice dropped to a whisper:

"32°42′N, 29°03′E."

Kael frowned. "That’s... the Libyan Sea."

Minos nodded.

"The numbers will get you close.

But the island won’t reveal itself unless the tides obey you... or fear you.

Without a guide of Poseidon’s blood, you’ll sail past it a hundred times and never know."

Kael stepped toward the chamber doors, the stone groaning open like the Underworld itself acknowledged his departure. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

He paused at the threshold.

Just a feeling, but something didn’t sit right with him.

The way Minos had spoken. That exciting smile. It wasn’t just confidence. It was too smooth.

His mother’s words echoed through the back of his mind. Do not trust him.

He turned slightly to the side, gaze cast toward the Judges—not seeking their approval, but offering them a warning wrapped in command.

His voice came quiet, but it filled the hall.

"I will bring him.

Daedalus will stand before you."

He let the words settle, then added, slower now:

"But if he is judged unfairly... if personal vengeance clouds what should remain pure..."

He raised his eyes to meet theirs—Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus.

"Then I will step in. And I will judge you."

A long silence followed.

Then Rhadamanthus stepped forward. His voice was deep, even, carved from the same stone as the halls around them.

"We do not judge unfairly, Son of Hades."

Aeacus spoke next, slower but with unwavering finality.

"We judge what the soul reveals. Not what the world remembers."

Minos looked at Kael—not as a boy, not even as a ruler—but as something rarer.

"You carry your father’s fire. And his burden."

He dipped his head slightly—not submission, but acknowledgment.

"Bring Daedalus. Let him speak for himself. Let his actions weigh against the silence he’s chosen."

Rhadamanthus added, voice softer now:

"And if the judgment proves false... if we are wrong..."

He paused, then bowed his head.

"Then may the King of the Underworld do what must be done."

The three judges stood tall, silent once more—guardians of law, but not above it.

Kael said nothing more.

He turned... and left the Field behind.

Now he had to face Liz.

Now he had to face Liz.

And gods, he just hoped Liz had cooled off.