I received an invitation to leave, to embark on a journey to a new and uncertain destination. I packed light, carrying with me only the few possessions that still mattered in the face of a process both cruel and transformative—death and rebirth intertwined. The path before me was trackless, devoid of promises or guarantees. There were no hopes to cling to, no dreams to chase, no enemies to defeat.
With every step I took, I shed my fear, leaving it behind like an old skin. There would be no more emotions, no soul to guide me, no life to live, and no tears to cry. I was headed to a place known only as the Kingdom of the Damned—a forbidden realm, where the sins of existence fractured the soul into unrecognizable pieces. In this place, memories had no place; they had been erased, discarded in the dust of oblivion.
The cycle of ego, failures, and confessions stretched endlessly before me. Broken glass—shards of fleeting ecstasy—littered the way ahead, and with every step, I bled. The pain was relentless, a reminder of all that had been lost. Fear had no power here, but it still clung to me, a shadow that would never leave.
There was no return from this dark labyrinth, no exit in sight, and no light to guide my way. I wandered, lost in a vast hell, where each breath seemed to drag me deeper into its cold embrace. I could feel the weight of its treachery pulling me further away from any semblance of salvation.
I was warned to stay away, to never cross this threshold, for beyond heaven, there lay a hell too horrendous to imagine. Yet, even in that warning, there was a truth I couldn’t escape: love, in its most brutal form, would slay me with every breath I took. The moral of every story had been rewritten here, and innovation was the only hope for survival—if survival could even be called that.