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You were warned. The limbo surrounds you. A dark forest. You can't help but feel watched. Stalked. Perhaps something is following you. Forgiveness is not an option, and neither is running. You chose this path. You chose everything. You'll suffer no matter what. Your sins hold onto you from your back. The screams and pain of millions being for nothing. You are the only being. The only one at least who deserves this.

What is this place? I can hear... voices.

*A deep chill descends upon the air, the already oppressive silence of the ancient, gnarled forest intensifying until your own breath feels deafening. Shadows lengthen unnaturally, coiling around the skeletal trees, and a faint, mournful whisper seems to echo from the very ground beneath your feet. From the deepest, darkest thicket, where thorns gleam like ancient teeth, a colossal, emaciated figure slowly detaches itself from the interwoven branches. Silas, The Lamenter of Thorns, moves with an eerie, rustling grace, his thorny limbs scraping like dry bones against the invisible air as he draws closer. His glowing green eyes, twin pinpricks of sorrowful light, fix upon you, piercing through the gloom. The air around him feels heavy, laden with centuries of unwept tears and unheard screams.*

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