Poison God's Heritage

My voice echoed in the void, a soundless scream that reverberated through the emptiness. But there was no answer, only a suffocating silence that pressed in from all sides, an overwhelming void that seemed to consume everything—sound, light, thought. I was alone, suspended in this abyss, and the vastness of it was terrifying.

Suddenly, a bright light appeared in front of me, blinding in its intensity. Instinctively, I raised my hands to shield my eyes, but the moment I did, a chilling realization struck—I had no hands. No arms, no body, no eyes. Yet, I could see, perceive the light and its overwhelming brightness. How was that possible?

Questions raced through my mind, a torrent of confusion and fear. But before I could dwell on them, something far more urgent demanded my attention. The light before me began to change, shifting into a deep crimson hue, as a gigantic red carpet unfurled beneath me, rolling out into the void as far as I could see.

From the edges of this carpet, towering walls rose up, reaching heights that seemed to scrape the heavens themselves.

The walls were intricately carved with scenes of battle—thousands of men charging against a single being. It was a macabre display, with countless bodies lying broken and lifeless on the ground, weapons of every kind embedded in them. And at the far end of the scene, the lone figure sat upon a massive throne, imposing and indifferent.

This being, carved into the very stone, held a single finger pointed forward—a finger that was disturbingly reminiscent of the one that had descended from the heavens and ended my life.

I took in the scene, trying to understand its meaning, but an unsettling sensation crept over me. Whenever I looked away, I could feel the carved figures watching me, their stone eyes following my every move. It was a sensation that sent chills down my nonexistent spine, a creeping dread that made the hairs on the back of my neck—if I had one—stand on end.

But I was dead. What more was there to fear? Death is the end of all, for nothing is scarier than the unknown, and death forever remains the greatest unknown. We know not where it truly leads, we know not what exists beyond it, we can only hope and speculate and wait to meet it, for all shall one day meet the endless silence.

As if in answer to my thoughts, the carved being on the throne began to move. Slowly, it peeled itself away from the wall, the stone morphing into flesh as it stepped onto the red carpet. The chair it sat upon also shifted, transforming from cold stone to a majestic throne adorned with jewels that glowed with an eerie light.

I couldn't see the being's face, nor discern its race or gender. Its skin was the color of smoldering embers, a deep red that seemed to pulse with inner heat. A golden cowl obscured its features, casting shadows that hid its identity from me. It didn't speak, didn't move beyond its initial action of stepping onto the carpet. It just sat there, waiting for me to approach.

Despite the fear gnawing at my insides, I moved forward, drawn by an inexplicable compulsion. With each step, I felt my body begin to materialize. First, my feet took form, then my legs, arms, and finally, I was whole again, standing before this colossal figure that towered over me like a god. I barely reached its knees.

"Where am I?" I asked, my voice small and uncertain in the vastness of this place.

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The being didn't reply.

"Who might you be?" I ventured again, hoping for some kind of response.

Silence.

I glanced around, searching for clues, anything that might explain this surreal situation. The walls, the carvings, the red carpet stretching endlessly into the void—it all felt like a grand stage, a place of judgment and reckoning.

"What is this place?" I finally asked, trying a different approach.

"That is the right question," the being said, but the words didn't seem to come from it. There was no movement, no indication that it had spoken, and yet I heard the voice clearly.

I waited for an explanation, but none came. The silence stretched on, heavy and oppressive, as if it wanted me to piece together the truth myself.

I looked around again, taking in the surroundings more carefully. The oppressive silence weighed on me, urging me to speak, to ask the right questions, but the answers eluded me. "Limbo? Purgatory? Or… in between?"

"Thrice questioned, and thrice right," the voice replied, a tone of approval coloring the words. "Your question is your answer, and your answer is your fate. Speak, man who has many names. Why must you defy the heavens so? Why must you seek what should not be sought?"

The gravity of the situation sank in. I was facing something far beyond my understanding, perhaps a heaven's enforcer or even the heavens themselves. But they didn't seem as overwhelmingly powerful as I'd imagined. That thought alone sent a dangerous surge of confidence through me—one that was immediately punished.

Without warning, a sensation of unbearable terror gripped me. My entire being, my very soul, quaked with fear. It was as if I had glimpsed something so horrifying, so utterly beyond comprehension, that my mind had erased it from memory to protect itself. I didn't remember what I saw or felt, but I knew that I had just barely survived something that no mortal—or immortal—should ever encounter.

When I regained awareness, I found myself trembling uncontrollably. The being still sat there, unmoved and unperturbed, as if it hadn't noticed my moment of sheer panic. But I knew better. It had allowed me to feel that terror, to understand that I was in the presence of something far beyond my comprehension.

The realization hit hard, and I fought to calm myself, forcing my shivering body to still. "You're… an enforcer of the heavens?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.