[Chapter Three: Descent into Judecca]
As I walk, I ponder this creature, a sinner, a magnificent sinner, to be certain. However, why must he be so special, and for his growth perhaps, awakening the name itself. He crossed forty solar cycles already, he is close, spoke Lillith, I wonder what shall he consider growth of this to be family, I wonder what shall a man be turned into if broken, scare, shattered, no if defiled one's are on care, would it be another pond of murky water engulfing secrets in plane sight or would it be a person to consider greater, perhaps like the flows of nirvana.
"What is your certain thought, diabolus?", asked Lillith. Pondering his thoughts he spoke, diabolus, "whatever it is, we shall see a war, no another fall of another great empire OR..... Consider this if you give a money a sword what would it do, hurt itself and throw it on other hand money may learn the use of it and become a king amongst its uneducated kind."
~ Report from Lillith to forth cycle
"Wait what, our son has been sent on this mission my love, we should stop him immediately, or he shall pain the havens crimson and would black with rotten blood", spoke voice of authority, however, a figure of globe spoke as emanated light of abyss untouched veer by god, "Trust him, someday he must break free of the binds and must embark as a self unbroken."
one eight eighty-eighth, ending with a month of eleven on the day on ninth, why was it an end. There is no recollection excepting the kings of how his life ended and yet the question of sanity, retaining such sanity for centu….. perhaps hie has borrowed a name, man does looks like out of hand quite oddly, as if! No, he didn't borrow any names, he borrowed it's meaning. Wait a moment, it's chilly!
Have I reached? I see it has been over two solar cycles already, so then, Judecca it is, four more days it is just walking. As the days pass and man walked finally he reached the tower of guardians as he finally spoke a few words as spoken granted an access to one of the farms. As stood a figure of a man need of no more disfiguring as half was already unlike human as chains covered head to neck as frozen.
"Perfectly ready to be harvested and dined on", spoke Aarowan. Now the lone unnamed demon spoke, "I am here to land a hand."
The air in Judecca was a tangible entity, a suffocating blanket of despair that clung to the skin like a malevolent spider. It was a realm where shadows held substance, and silence was a deafening cacophony. Aarowan, the demon, moved through this desolate landscape with a predatory grace, his senses honed to a razor's edge. The figure he sought was said to be a prisoner of unparalleled torment, a soul trapped in a living hell of its own making.
The farm was a grotesque parody of earthly agriculture. Instead of fertile soil and verdant crops, it was a barren expanse of frozen earth, dotted with skeletal structures that resembled twisted trees. And in the center of this macabre tableau stood the prisoner, a human form encased in ice, his eyes, twin black orbs, fixed on an eternal horizon.
Aarowan approached the figure with a sense of detached curiosity. The man, or what remained of him, was a haunting testament to the depths of human depravity. His skin was a sickly pallor, stretched taut over bone, and his limbs were twisted into unnatural positions. The chains that bound him were not of metal, but of ice, a frozen echo of his own inner torment.
"Salve, homo," Aarowan began, his voice a whisper in the frozen air, "I am here to offer a respite, albeit temporary."
The prisoner's eyes flickered, a spark of consciousness igniting in the icy depths. His voice, when it came, was a hoarse croak, "Respite? From what? This is my eternity."
Aarowan smiled, a cold, predatory thing. "From the monotony of despair, perhaps," he replied. "I offer a chance to relive, to experience again, the moments that brought you to this frozen hell."
The prisoner's eyes widened in disbelief. "To relive? To feel the pain again?"
Aarowan nodded, his patience wearing thin. "But this time," he added, "with a twist."
The prisoner hesitated, a silent battle raging within his icy prison. Finally, with a nod, he acquiesced. Aarowan extended a hand, a gesture of false camaraderie. As their fingers touched, a surge of dark energy flowed between them, a bridge to a shared nightmare.