You Come Before the Arbiter Fully Armed

"Take a step backwards. Maybe a deep breath or two. Trust me when I say that this won't be easy - especially if this is your first time. Stop looking at me sideways, like I'm overreacting. like I'm some sort of crazy person. This is real.

"If you want to turn away, now's your chance. I won't blame you; nobody will. What you're about to see... well, I'd be lying if I told you it was entirely safe.

"Now, I'm going to count to three, and when I do I'm going to pull back the curtain. Please try your best not to scream. Remember, nobody is forcing you to do this. Okay? Good.

"Three...

"Two...

"One..."

With one sudden movement the Arbiter pulls back the curtain. Despite your best efforts you let out a shriek, and why wouldn't you? Behind the curtain, veiled in the shadows of eternity, waiting as if to trap the darkness itself lies the shimmering panel - the portal into reality. A mirror.

Your scream was not in reaction to your appearance, far from it in fact. Modestly you admit that you have your moments, and this is one of them. Damn, do you look good.

You would that that was enough, but by now you've already realized the horrifying truth. You know what it is that you're seeing, and the Arbiter knows it too. Because beneath the skin and bones, underneath the muscles and organs lies something dark, something evil. It is a specter of everything that you wish you were not. It is all the wrongs you've ever committed. It is your sin, and it crouches before you, baring its teeth, flashing before your eyes the millions of wrongs you've committed, the billions you've thought about committing, and the seemingly infinite hurts you've inflicted without even knowing about it. You watch yourself murder, steal, lie, rape, pillage, judge, desire, and curse the very God that made you. You watch yourself tear the world apart, and you watch yourself laugh as you do it. Finally, you watch as you take your own life, at the end of all things.

You've already reached for your weapon, not realizing it until now. It's extended before you, an addition to a limb, an official part of your body. But the blade is still, silent. It will not speak to silence the monster, because it is in you. It is in you, crouching silently, grinning it's grin, and from yourself there is no escape, even in death. The Arbiter knows this, and as he circles around behind you you dare not take your eyes from the thing before you. That thing you had previously known and loved as your very person.

"Do not be frightened," the Arbiter says slowly, painfully. "The monster is within us all. On you I have worried little, because subject to the laws of man you are, in a sense, without flaw. You've not killed anyone, not stolen anything of great value. In the annals of punishment your name will never appear. Men far worse have crossed my path. Men who have done the things that you have not. But you," he says, trailing off and appraising your weapon. "You see this monster and you have chosen to fight it. And it is for this that you will be saved. Because our time here is limited, and one day we will leave the world of men. Yes, we will leave and enter a world where the law of the spirit reigns above all, subject to which we must all perish eternally. It is not enough to be a good person," he says to you. Your hand tremors slightly and your sweat dampens the hilt of the blade. "You come before the arbiter fully armed, but against this thing no stroke of sword will avail you."

"What chance have I?" You ask, the fear masked, your composure seemingly recovered.

The Arbiter stops.

"You know." He says, and fades away. "You've always known."

And the Arbiter is gone.