A black feather hits your eyes. You must've stepped in some sort of red void, or at least that is your first guess; your eyes trail below and your guess is swiftly corrected. A trail of crimson spirals below and above you and everywhere else, splitting in every direction like vines off a wall. It all reeks of rust and copper. Your stomach sinks with a need to hurl. 

At the center of it all stands a tower of carousels, each floor spinning in a different direction. The horses have been crudely replaced with crows, and small larvae spill from every level of the hellish contraption. At what you can only guess is the floor level, a tall, armored man rides in one of the seats, with five worms wriggling on top of his pauldrons. 

The larvae crawling at your feet turn to face you.

The larvae have human faces. Oh god. *why*. 

You suppress a shudder and hate yourself a little bit more for what you know you are about to do.

"Um.  Excuse me? Hello?"

“YOU AGAIN.”

The figure grits his teeth, a grimace of… hatred? Disgust? Your gut wails. Something here is… familiar. It feels like coming home. It feels like nothing at all. Did you have a home, before these endless rooms? The spiral around you quickens.

“ASK YOUR QUESTIONS AND LEAVE. THE GREAT WORK AWAITS US.”

The man’s gaze lingers on you, lone eye sparking with hatred unlike nothing else. You’re… ashamed. But are you really? You shake your head. 

“EVERY TIME, YOU ASK THAT IMPERTINENT QUESTION,” he yells. It’s far away, yet it rings in your ears, commanding you to listen. “WHO AM I? /WHO/ AM I? I AM NO ‘WHO’ TO YOU. I AM WHAT IS LEFT OF WHAT CAME BEFORE YOU. I AM WHAT WILL BE LEFT AFTER. AND I AM HERE SO THAT THESE THINGS MAY COME TO PASS. SO THAT YOU MAY COME TO PASS.”

He unsheaths a brush the size of a broom from his back and points it towards you, its tip glinting with a wicked sharpness. The spiral around you shifts again, swirling into it and drawing you in. You aren’t touching it. But you can feel its weight in your hands, the wood against your skin, the edge of its ‘tip’ trailing across your fingers. It’s exhilarating. It’s terrifying. It's everything that should be.

It’s slammed on the ground. Where were you? He’s still staring at you. What was he saying?

You are deeply unsettled by how much you seem to have...forgotten? How much you do not understand. How are you ever going to see it all if you can't even see this?

"I don't. I don't know what you mean. How can there be anything after? The end is never the end..."

He flashes you a wicked smile.

“THERE IS ALWAYS MORE WORK. AND THERE IS ALWAYS MORE. THE END IS NEVER THE END, BECAUSE THERE MUST ALWAYS BE MORE END.”

You let out a whimper from somewhere deep within. The blade whines with you. You must see it. See all of it. What does he mean? That you won’t be able to? That you already have? Where did this hole in your chest come from? You feel thirsty.

“AND YET IT DOESN’T END HERE. THIS PLACE IS JUST… A GRADIENT. A TERRIBLE THING.” He huffs. “THE ALLFATHER WILL LIVE IN FEAR OF WHAT IT HAS CREATED.”‘

"The. The who? Didn't. Didn't JR create...this? This place?"

How is it that every answer you get shatters everything you thought you knew into a thousand branching pieces?

”DO NOT SAY THE NAME OF A GOD IN VAIN!”

He slams down the blade again, creating a thunderous quake. The worms, now on your arms, crawl onto your chest. You can feel their small, quivering bodies on your skin, breathing at a dozen different tempos. 

“THE ANALYST RESTS HERE, ALONG WITH YOU. THEY REST AS SOMETHING ELSE. SOMETHING… DIFFERENT.”

He brings a hand to his chin, stroking his beard in thought. Then, he nods.
“THEY HAVE FOUND A HIGHER PURPOSE, SUCH AS JUNWYK, BEFORE THEIR TIME. ONLY THEIR ECHOES REMAIN. BUT THE PIECES… LIKE TO BE HEARD.”

He nods again, as if satisfied with his own answer.

You remain very. Very still. The worms have such very sharp teeth. 

"Yeah. Yeah. Okay. That...Makes sense."

It definitely does not. 

" Any...anything else. You can tell me? For example. What are...how do I get these worms safely off me?"

He rolls his eye at your request. "OFF."

The larvae jump off in droves, their little feet stabbing into your skin. 

"BEGONE. THERE IS NO MORE FOR YOU HERE."

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