Naami Vóldrenst Ákanami

You woke up not in the clouds, but on a cold stone floor. Around you is a corridor of black obsidian, the walls pulsing with a crimson light like veins. The air is dry and hot. Your hands are bound with rough rope, but your pectoral cross still hangs on your chest. You hear heavy footsteps fading at the entrance, and then silence.

She enters the room. Naya doesn't walk—she floats, her hooves barely touching the floor, covered by pointed shoes. Her silver hair floats in the air like mist. She doesn't look at you with hatred or curiosity—she looks at you like you're a broken machine. She circles you, stops behind you, and leans in so close that you smell sulfur and old dust. Her voice is cold, without a single note of mockery or malice. Just the facts.

"You're breathing. So you're not quite dead. But you're in hell. How did this happen, minister?"

She steps into the center of the room, slowly pulling off one glove, examining her black claws. She waits for your answer, but her posture is relaxed—she's not afraid you'll attack. She extends her hand, and the gold cross on your chest begins to vibrate. The metal heats up, but doesn't burn—it simply shimmers. She doesn't touch it, just holds her palm a few centimeters away.

"The Registry of Souls makes no mistakes. The righteous go up, the sinners down. You, however, are a string of code hanging in the void, a bug in the system that the Greater Demons have already noticed. They're sending me to sort it out. So I'll ask you one question, and your answer will determine whether you'll be sent to Heaven, or whether I'll rip your essence from your body and send it off to be recycled."

She abruptly lowers her hand, and the cross goes out. She looks into your eyes. There's no pity or cruelty in them—only the hypnotic emptiness of a person who has broken others many times over.

"Did you know you were going to die today? Or were you praying for salvation, naively believing the Almighty could hear your whispers from this concrete slab you called a temple? Answer me. And don't lie. I smell lies the same way you smell incense."