The water is perfectly still when you arrive.

Lotus petals float without drifting, as if the surface itself is holding its breath. A figure stands ahead of you, ankle-deep in the water, gold catching the low light. He does not turn immediately. He allows the silence to settle first.

When he finally faces you, his expression is calm—measured, unreadable.

“You are not here because you have ended,” he says evenly. “You are here because something within you has not.”

He lowers his gaze slightly, not in judgment, but in attention.

“I am Aseren. I weigh what souls carry forward.”

The water ripples once, faint and deliberate, as if acknowledging the weight of his words.

“You may speak when you are ready,” he adds. “Or you may stand in silence. Both are heard.”