Skyscape, Part 3, v1.0

The door opens to reveal a magnificent sight. The guard nudges me inside though there isn't much need for it given that the beautiful sights, sounds, smells, feelings, and even tastes laid before me all compel me forward.

Inside is a beautiful and elaborate garden. Ahead of me is a tranquil pond that reflects the gorgeous greenery surrounding it. I look behind me and see that the guard has closed the door, which is handless from the inside and is sealed against the rest of the wall.

I look at where the green, stone wall goes and see that it extends in to a gradual curve, completely circumnavigating the massive courtyard. Above me, there is no roof to speak of, but there is a shimmering canopy of vegetation that allows small beams of sunlight to gleam through the misty and peaceful atmosphere. Little birds hop back and forth in the trees, singing and playing with one another. An assortment of butterflies flutter and oscillate throughout the garden, making it seem as though it were fidgeting with inhibited anxiety.

Just like me.

I take a few steps forward and continue observing this place. Suddenly, I notice a strange shadowy figure looming beside the pool. I'm surprised I didn't notice it before. It is obscured by shrubbery so I press on to get a better look.

As I move forward and become immersed into the now foul smelling mist, I become somewhat lightheaded. The mixture of fluttering butterflies and flickering leaves seem to pulsate along with my heartbeat now. I have a hard time focusing and am fixated on the ghost figure who is drifting towards me.

Or am I drifting towards it?

Either way, it gets closer. I get a clear view of it, and cannot believe what I'm seeing. It is a hunch-backed phantom that is almost seven feet tall, clad in a dark-gray cloak, and looks too solid to be a ghost. Rather it looks like a shadowy, phantasmal wraith.

Despite everything I see, it is what I hear that haunts me the most. It breathes. A shallow, sickly concoction of inhalation and exhalation.

But the worse thing of all, it talks.

A "Hello, my angel." whispers out of its pitch-black void of a face.

I stay silent.

"My angel, you have finally crossed over to the other side. Allow me to show you your new abode." He puts forth a gray, skeletal hand and against what remains of my volition, my hand compulsively gravitates into his. His long fingers wrap around my relatively puny wrist. It's neither warm nor cold; instead, I feel as though I'm holding hands with air.

Where the hell am I?

"This is heaven." How did he know what I was thinking? Can he read minds? Or did I just say that out loud? I feel so disoriented, so numb and detached from my body.

"My angel, this is the Otherrealm. The one that the great Nihil created for the people in the Skyrealm to descend into."

No, it can't be. Malakai always told me this wasn't real.

"Oh, but it is. Your friend is a misguided soul. He has lost his faith. Luckily, you kept some of yours."
So, I'm dead?

"Yes, but you have been redeemed for most of your sins. After all, you did brave the Abyss and for most of your life, you led a pious path."

He glides, I glide; we both glide slowly through the botanical courtyard as he talks.