Amon and Yue passed through Heaven's Gate, and the clouds parted for them like curtains drawn aside by unseen hands.
They had heard so many things about Heaven.
That it was a place of gilded halls stretching endlessly into the horizon, of ornate palaces carved from light itself.
The Holy Church had spoken of it as the final sanctuary, a Utopia where want did not exist, where the dead were reunited with the living, where souls feasted and laughed and wept in joy for all eternity beneath the Kingdom of God.
What greeted them instead was silence.
Radiant light spilled across everything, sourceless and absolute, reflecting off the clouds that served as the ground beneath their feet.
It was beautiful, in the way that a vast and empty canvas was beautiful, full of potential that had simply never been realised.
There was nothing here.
No palaces. No gilded halls. No souls laughing in reunion.
No gardens heavy with fruit, no rivers running silver.
