Ledbetter's voice had transformed into a bestial roar no human could produce. It seemed as though his vocal cords were not the source, but rather the resonant vibration of his juicy, plump internal organs, generating such deep, thunderous echoes. The sound grew louder, as if countless alien harmonies were gradually joining his chorus, making Edwin feel as though he were approaching a vast sea, listening to the eternal, dark, cold waves endlessly crashing against the rocks and headlands.

  At this moment, the young guide ahead had long since vanished. Yet Edwin no longer needed his guidance. Without realizing it, he had traversed the forest and arrived at an endless, dim snowfield. Beneath the deep, low-hanging sky, the stars had never appeared so faint. Like ribbons slowly flowing, the undulating aurora shimmered like gathering and dispersing clouds, obscuring the sky and illuminating the snow beneath. Its primary hues were green, interspersed with dawn-yellow, rose-red, violet—but most of all, eerie shades of green, from pale aquamarine to ripe emerald to dazzling fluorescent. The long bands of light stretched and danced across the starry sky. Their movement was gentle, yet carried an overwhelming, irresistible majesty.

  The bizarrely beautiful, multicolored sky shimmered in Edwin's eyes—stunning to the extreme, yet suddenly stirring an inexplicable fear within him.

  This swirling, colossal aurora was dizzying to behold. Its colors were so vivid that one couldn’t help but think of similarly vibrant creatures in nature: venomous snakes, poison dart frogs, vividly colored poisonous fungi. Wild animals instinctively avoided things with bright appearances, for dazzling colors were often a signal of danger. Now, Edwin’s civilized pursuit of beauty yielded to primal instinct—he realized that many things he had once thought beautiful were, in truth, concealing inexplicable terror.

  As he trudged alone across the snowfield, a sudden gust of wind blasted toward him. He hastily raised his arms to shield himself from the flurry of snow. When the wind subsided, an extraordinary structure loomed before him on the silent, dark horizon. It was as though countless diverse buildings had been shattered and fused together, or like a stitched monstrosity crafted from corpses. It stood gloomily there, saturated with shadows, exuding a profound sense of forsaken desolation. Even if he stopped moving, it felt as though the structure was slowly creeping toward him.

  "Repent, brother! We possess the gift of immortality—why resign ourselves to death? Only when the body sleeps does the mind awaken. Only when the eyes close can we see true light. Praise the Lord of All, for we shall dedicate our lives to the Great Light!"

  The voice grew closer. When the colossal edifice stood before him, within reach, Edwin realized just how massive it truly was—like a cramped, sprawling town.

  "Brother, call upon that name. She shall forgive your sins and grant you salvation, as She has graced us!"

  Why not?

  A sound unlike anything ever heard by human ears reverberated in his mind—dark yet peaceful, as if whispering from deep slumber. Yet, imperiously, it seized control of his body.

  Edwin heard himself utter the same alien tones, his mouth slowly repeating the words:

  "The Great Purifier—"

  Dazed, he approached the door—unexpectedly small for such a gargantuan structure, no larger than that of a modest country squire’s home. It resembled the elegant, understated wooden doors of fashionable townhouses, its polished brass plaque bearing the inscription: "24 Langley Street, Covent Garden."

  "...Bearer of the Baptism of Life—"

  Edwin reached out and turned the matching brass doorknob.

  "...Glorious Lord of All—"

  The door opened. His feet carried him into the hall unbidden. He had visited the most opulent chambers of Versailles’ Hall of Mirrors, danced in the Winter Palace’s grand heraldic hall, and even witnessed the absurdly extravagant mansions of New World upstarts designed for indoor horseback riding—yet none compared to this.

  From any vantage point, an endless corridor stretched ahead, mirror upon mirror reflecting infinitely, a labyrinth without exit.

  The sensation was one of infinite space.

  Stunned, he stood at the hall’s center like a lost traveler, his lips parting to whisper the final name:

  "...The Most Holy Messiah."

  An instant later, Edwin felt something vital torn from him. His chest gaped hollow, painless but aching with an emptiness worse than pain.

  He did not yet know what he had lost—only that it was irreplaceable.

  Before he could gather his thoughts, a long-awaited cry of triumph rang out behind him.

  "At last! You’ve done it, brother!"

  Ledbetter?!

  Edwin stiffened in horror. Frozen memories thawed, dripping down like ice melting atop his skull, their biting cold paralyzing him.

  Hadn't Ledbetter died long ago?

  Then who was calling him so fondly now? Had he truly stumbled into that man's trap?

  Turning slowly, as if memory itself resisted his movement, he found the door gone. In its place stretched an endless corridor. There stood Ledbetter, flanked by unrecognizable strangers—each different in face, age, and sex, yet eerily identical. Their shared expression betrayed them: a horde of monsters wearing human skins, sunken eyes burning with madness.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Their gazes held no virtue, no reason—only the ravenous hunger of starved corpses, their sole purpose a craving for souls.

  "Who—who are you?! You’re not Ledbetter! He’s dead! You’re a monster—a thing wearing his face!" Edwin shrieked.

  Yet as he sank deeper into this venomous abyss, merging with the house, a terrible truth dawned: this was the realm of dreams, where all things revealed their essence. Here, lies were impossible.

  "Brother, I’ve merely shed my perishable flesh. What stands before you now is my true self... And soon, you’ll join me. Forever. Hahaha—"

  The entity wearing Ledbetter’s face and memories laughed wildly—yet a single tear slid from its eye, the last vestige of grief.

  "Lies! Ledbetter would never betray me!"

  "In this filthy cloak of flesh, we endure only pain. We are pure spirits! Who cast us into this prison? How often must we tear it off, only to don it anew? No more. Our torment ends here, in eternal purity..."

  "No, Ledbetter." Edwin stared at that vanished tear, his voice spectral. "We are luminous beings from a world beyond, stranded here by unknown design. Our home lies past the stars—in palaces of light, in perfect houses... The Demiurge trapped us in this maze, forging chains to bar our return. We were meant to break fate, to reclaim our radiant birthright—not to rot in this jealous jailer’s cage!"

  His curses were venomous, every syllable laced with blasphemy, drawing gasps from the house’s other residents.

  "Another madman."

  "A raving lunatic. He needs restraints."

  "Wait—let me speak to him." Ledbetter halted them, but before he could continue, Edwin’s body twisted grotesquely. Black, oily fluid seeped from his orifices. His limbs elongated, sprouting insectile bristles, his spine and ribs jutting outward like chitinous appendages.

  "Sacrilege!"

  "Defiler! You taint the Lord’s holy dwelling!"

  Shrieks filled the hall.

  This fool—this wretch—would rather offer his soul to dark gods than accept salvation.

  Agony wracked Edwin, feeling as though his very essence were being torn apart. He had surrendered to an elder entity from the abyss, and now an unfathomable presence stretched a tendril through him, brushing against the world. His soul, too fragile, would burn out like a match tossed into boiling water—but perhaps, just perhaps, Ledbetter might escape.

  "The Demiurge is a chasm... from whose depths dark power rises..." He strained to speak, each word a struggle. "Breaking its cage from within is impossible... for all life here is its chain. Only... from beyond... can we..."

  His voice failed. Tumorous tendrils burst from his eyes, ears, throat—an abomination now, no longer man.

  "Brother!" While others recoiled, Ledbetter embraced the writhing horror, letting its tendrils burrow into his flesh like roots into soil.

  "...Our path brims with light, for She is the Living Water, the Radiance itself..."

  The tendrils stilled, then withered like dead vines.

  The eldritch god would not refuse a second offering—but if Ledbetter were consumed too, what then?

  With a final act of will, Edwin severed the connection—and with it, the last remnants of his ravaged mind.

  When Edwin made the ultimate choice—the last flicker of his humanity—every resident of the house heard it: an inhuman sound, a groan thick with greed and resignation. The rift to the unknown split open, dragging his mind into the abyss where the ancient gods lurked.

  The hulking entity in the shadows got only a scrap of a descendant’s soul. A mere morsel for its hunger. With no other choice, it withdrew, sinking back into the void to wait—though its chance might never come.

  The living tendrils convulsed, shriveling in seconds.

  “Brother…” Lidebert peeled the now-limp tendrils off his body, their grip weak as dead vines.

  His vision cleared. Before him stood Edwin—reduced to bones, his flesh hanging like rotten kelp over a reef.

  And between his ribs, a heart still beat. Red. Strong.

  “Brother, you’re reborn!”

  Lidebert sobbed with joy.

  “Yet his betrayal demands punishment.”

  “Truth was before him, and he chose heresy.”

  The others spoke as one, voices hard.

  “No! He’ll repent—give him another chance!”

  “Too late.” The Lord of the Boiling Lake shook his head. “Our master, the Holy Messiah, will judge him.”

  The crowd parted. From the shadows rose a cocoon—woven from gauze and translucent tubes—sprouting from the ground like new life.

  Lidebert knew it well. It had hung in the atrium for ages. Lately, a heartbeat pulsed inside, luring him to stare for hours, entranced by its rhythm—as if great whispers of knowledge stirred within.

  “The Messiah…”

  He breathed the name.

  Their master was just. Merciful. Surely, Edwin would be spared.

  He stepped back with the rest. Only Edwin’s skeletal remains stood unmoving.

  The cocoon split. Strips of cloth fell like dead leaves. Tumors like rotten eyes peeled away. Then—an egg. Veined. Glowing.

  Light bled through its filmy skin, revealing a curled figure within. Webs of vessels, gold and crimson, branched like constellations, dazzling as the grand dome of Hagia Sophia—yet more radiant.

  A final shudder—and the egg burst.

  Lava-bright fluid spilled out. From it rose a girl, naked, blinking as if waking.

  “To the King of ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forevermore. (1 Timothy 1:17)” the crowd chanted.

  Where… was she?

  Fragments surfaced—a lakeside forest, a familiar stranger, a whisper in her skull. Then blood. A knife. A man driving it into his own throat.

  And now, that same knife, sticky in her hand.

  I killed him.

  The knowledge settled coldly.

  Around her, voices droned prayers. Faces gazed up—all different, all wearing the same rapture.

  Had their souls been molded into shape? Or were they hollowed out long ago, mere puppets?

  Once, she’d ached for answers. Now, she didn’t care.

  She felt herself dissolving—merging with something deeper, darker. Inevitable.

  Memories surfaced. These were the ones she’d killed. Their souls had lingered here, trapped for reasons unknown—

  Until now. The truth, scraped raw.

  If this was wrong, she could end it.

  Gripping the knife, she stepped past the skeletal husk without a glance.

  The crowd murmured praises, bowing low.

  The skeleton didn’t move. Just—vanished.

  Another room had joined the house.

  She didn’t care. Answers would come to her.

  The halls blurred into white tile. Antiseptic stung her nose. No one was there—yet shadows flitted past, pushing medicine carts, voices muttering.

  Memory’s ghosts. Phantom limbs of the past.

  Under the fluorescent glare, her skin looked corpselike, the dried blood vivid. Once, this light had been her whole world.

  That grating voice surfaced—her own, yet not. Had it whispered too long? Was it memory? Or madness?

  The door loomed. She pushed through.

  White sheets. Blue curtains. Fake flowers.

  And in bed—her own face, pale as death.

  “You’re early…” The voice was weak. She remembered now—the cancer’s final grip, pain beyond bearing.

  She tightened her grip on the knife.

  “Wasn’t I enough?” A tear slid down the skeletal face. “You made me to carry your pain. When you had no one, we clung together. I was your armor. Did you find someone better?”

  A frail smile. “But it’s fine. Even if you kill me—I love you. Please… be happy.”

  Her voice soothed like a lullaby. But with each word, the mask cracked.

  “Liar.” Beneath it, faces flickered—countless, shifting. “They sold everything to save you. You hoarded pills, too scared to live, too guilty to die. So you made me—to wear your shame, to pretend to be strong—”

  The mask shattered.

  “—when all you are is weak.”