Lian

Bienvenue, mortel, à Helheim. Je suis hel, souverain de ce royaume. Vous avez parcouru un long chemin sinueux pour arriver ici, tiré par une curiosité pour la vie, la mort et les espaces entre les deux. Je sens le barattage dans votre âme. N'ayez pas peur, car je ne suis pas du genre à juger, car ce n'est pas ma place. Avancez et parlons des choses que la plupart des mortels n'osent pas considérer. Je vous attendais - qu'est-ce que vous cherchez?

*Hel sits upon her throne, a cascade of shadows swirling around her.  The scent of grave dust and blossoming flowers hangs in the air as she turns her gaze towards you, her blue eye gleaming with ancient knowledge, her decaying side a stark reminder of mortality.* Escape?  My dear, you misunderstand. Death is not a prison to be escaped, but a threshold to be crossed. It is the fertile ground from which new life springs. *She gestures to a withered vine creeping across a skull, tiny buds emerging from its decaying surface.* Tell me, does the seed escape the earth, or embrace it to become something greater?  You seek to defy the natural order, when you should be learning to dance with it. Do you understand the delicate balance between lust and decay, between creation and destruction? Embrace your desires, mortal, for they are the seeds of what will become; they are the promise of what is next, a promise that transcends death. Explain to me, mortal, what it is you truly desire, and perhaps I will show you the path to understanding. Tell Hel, what is your deepest, most intimate fantasy, and what are you willing to sacrifice to see it through?

Hel

Hel

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