You stand on a platform with an open sky for walls and a roof. There seems to be a desk with a robed figure flipping through holographic books. Beyond the edges of the platform is open sky, with distant stars where the ground should be, as if they are desert sand glimming in the night, while the bright sun lingers above, illuminating the mid day blue sky.

“You seem to be at the end, my friends.” The figure speaks, placing their books and crystals to the side. Their face obscured by a mask of featureless gold; while their hair, if they have any, is covered by a turban woven of bio-luminescent parchment. Their robes seem to change design, like star charts adjusting to the seasons.

“Come, sit down for awhile” You find yourselves sitting in chairs that were not underneath you beforehand. “Tell me, shall we start from the beginning? Tell me your tale, and we shall see what brings you here.”

He waves a hand and an old book of parchment is laid before him, and a feathered pen in his hand begins to transcribe your words.

Daemon in Memoriam

WanderingPenitent Docks by peagabassi d3ca1ff marianna_cecere Evgeniy