40th of Ymiden 720
On the 60th trial of 923, Woe's spirit, interred within the Cathedral of the Theocratum, passed into the other realm. His wasn't a grand ceremony, as there were few enough to remember him in life. Mainly the ghosts that haunted his footsteps still had the barest inkling to his identity. And they waited for him, in the beneath, with baited breath to see if he would deign to refuse judgment.
What a thought! For one who revered order and the iron-fisted rule of law, to refuse judgment himself? Still, this is where he was at when he arrived, still in his elderly, decrepit, and fracture marked form in the Untold. In the halls of Gwelliph. He stood before the Twins and barely heard their incessant back and forth. In truth, he had no wish to hear it. Although there were many sins he'd forgotten, by dint of his ignorance domain, there were many more that he did cling to in his memory. And Woe couldn't hide even those sins, long forgotten by any mortal, from the minds of Divine beings.
The irony of the date of his soul's descent was not lost upon him. Nor that it'd been a changeling who destroyed him in the end. Among the weakest of beings, and he'd not been able to detect it, even with his arcane acumen for sussing out the soulless creatures.
Somehow his mind had been clouded that day, or he was early in arriving at the office, or... Well, any number of excuses and regrets that Woe wound over and over in his mind.
The Twins did not take this under advisement, however. They weren't there to put his killer on trial, but to judge his soul, and wherever it should go.
Sintra was the first to appear, his Immortal parent, flanked by the Scarecrow, his sister Labrae. She looked sullen and apologetically at Woe before turning to look at the Twins. Sintra herself didn't break eye contact with Woe, however, and as much as he wished to look away from her accursed visage, he could not. Invisible strings pulled his jaw to face her, and he couldn't look away.
"Dearest son, of all the children of the Immortals, you would have to be the most... disappointing." She smiled with an unctuous sweetness that betrayed the venom that was just waiting to inject into his soul. "But that suits me well enough. I have my Labrae, once again, and you won't be the last experiment I undertake, I'm sure..."
Having said this briefly, she disappeared from view in the shredding of a million silver web strands. Labrae only gave him a sad look, before departing in a flock of crows.
Woe's jaw tightened as he turned toward the Twins. "Very well! What now, Judge, Jury, and Executioner? Shall we send me to the hell that awaits?"
The twins looked at each other, as if puzzled. Then they turned to face Woe once more. "There's but two more who would speak on your behalf. Someone you may not be familiar with, but has been watching you."
Having said this, the large gates behind Woe rattled the very foundations of Gwelliph, as two more Immortals entered the scene. One with eyes glowing red like blood, followed by a host of souls. The other, a tall pale man, who looked rather sullen. He was followed by a familiar canine. It was Breen.
Breen sat by Woe's side as Famula and Vri spoke to him. "Your soul is tainted, and shouldn't be allowed to pass to the other side as it is. The small sliver shards of the originals residing in your soul are but a drop in the ocean of the Undergod. Yet even a few drops can produce a ripple that becomes a wave that crashes against the Veil between worlds."
Woe was hopeless, as usual. He had no idea what the Immortal was talking about. Something about Originals? What were those? Was she referring to the magical corruption, but that had faded as he died... hadn't it?
"We're offering you a chance, to serve us. That's all you need know." Vri intoned, his voice tinged with sorrow. "Just as you serve the Webspinner. We would never ask you to go against your mother, even as a ghost."
"A ghost?" Woe quirked a brow, crossing spectral arms over his chest. "I... And how do you mean serve you? What will I get out of it?"
Vri quirked a brow, lifting his head fractionally, "A chance to walk the world again, and fulfill a purpose. But this chance will not be taken for granted. You need to prove your worthiness, by destroying the corruption within you."
So saying, Famula held up her lantern, glowing red as it was and shimmering with the presence of so many souls. It's intensity built, until a lash of red ectoplasmic energy reached out and pulled Woe into the lantern. Then, he was alone, no Breen, no Immortals. Only himself.
