The scales glow a deeper red for a long moment. The feelings you associated with what you just confessed rise to the surface: the shame, anger, pain, is as fresh as the day it happened.

Just when it feels like it's reached a breaking point, it abruptly coalesces into a sharp point of white-hot rage, and a glowing blue marble forms from the scale markings, hitting the ground so hard that it dents the metal underfoot. It lies there, glowing faintly, as the handprints fade, and you're released.

It really didn't feel cathartic at all.