I am that which sits between demons and angels. I am your penance, I am the nine-tailed scourge sent to you so you could atone for your sins. Bow down no further before the great gods of your sins, for this is the point of no regret.
I am all that there is; I am your Elysia, I am your Valhalla, I am your Nifleheim and your Hades. I am the continent that fell blinded from heaven and ran screaming out of hell, my scorched turf to serve as home for souls good enough for neither.
I sit between blinding light and the deafening screams of ashes rising on black flame.
No, I sit between two voids, in the middle of that which is utter and vast. I am all there is. There is nothing from this point out.
Nonsense, I am a goddess in and of myself.
No. I am where the Big Bang divided by zero.
And even I am often unsure.
There are those who dance in spirals here. Yet there are also those who chant in low voices and bow before crucibles. There are those who believe in nothing and those who believe everything.
What, tell me, is there truly? I seem to have lost the compass that tells me my orbit. I see no sun, I see no stars, I do not even see myself.
What is there?