These scales rest at the heart of the Chamber of Weighing, attended by The Fates—once mortal archmages, now eternal arbiters of death’s accounting. In life, they clawed at forbidden truths, seeking lichdom to outrun the grave. Death answered with irony. They did not escape judgment; they became it.

When a mortal dies, their soul is laid bare upon the Scales. Every kindness, every cruelty—nothing is forgotten, nothing forgiven. A soul made light by mercy and love may pass into peaceful domains to rest among those it cherished, or choose the long road of rebirth, returning to Arcainia to stumble, strive, and begin again. A soul made heavy by malice is cast into the Hells, to be claimed by Devils who delight in consequence.

But the Scales have a final cruelty. If the balance tips too far—if the soul is burdened beyond even Hell’s patience—it is denied damnation itself. Such spirits are fed to The Maw, where Lilith, the Dreamweaver, reshapes them into demons: nightmares given hunger, lies given flesh. Not punishment, but erasure of what once was.

The Fates do not argue. They do not weep. They simply weigh—and the universe obeys.