Uriel crosses the gate of Terrace 7. His cloak is tied tight, his hood hiding his face as best as possible.
In one hand, a bottle of wine. In the other, a rusted sword in a worn leather sheath.
The Archangel forces his way through the crowd. Hundreds of faceless, null beings. Former humans, former demons, former... people.
Not that it matters much now.
They try to pull at him. They try to make him look. They all fail, for they haven't got hands to grab with.
He keeps his gaze locked forward. He tries to ignore them. He fails.
They cannot cry out for help. They cannot beg, they cannot scream, they cannot make a sound. They lost their speech long ago.
But the silence is what breaks him.
He knows they're crying. He knows they're begging. He knows exactly what they're suffering.
But he has to keep it together.
He begins to sprint. The crowd gets denser, the silent voices get more plentiful, the gate is near.
Just a few minutes. Just a few seconds. Just a few steps.
He hates this trip, but it's one he must make.
...
Uriel crosses the gate of the Earthly Paradise, tripping on the last step and just barely catching himself before he falls to the ground.
The green, warm forest immediately contrasts itself to the frigid, snow-covered mountain which he was climbing just seconds before.
He takes a deep, shaky breath, fixes his posture, and moves forward.
The chirps of nonexistant birds fill his ears. The movement of the leaves in the gentle breeze both calms and unsettles him.
He passes by the lake, stopping to stare at the "fish" swimming around.
...
He sighs, looking away.
Hopping onto the rocks sticking out of the river which flows off the flat peak of the mountain, he crosses to the other side.
Just a little longer...
A few more steps...
There it is.
A stone bridge leading off the side of the mountain, to a crumbling, overgrown archway on a small floating island. Past that, crumbling and unstable stone stairs lead upwards towards the sky. They end short, only going up 5 or so cracked steps.
The end of the journey.
The end of many lives.
...
That's besides the point.
Uriel huffs.
He places down the sword on the grass.
He crosses the bridge, passes through the archway, and climbs the 5 steps, beging careful to not fall.
He uncorks the wine, taking a sip.
He mutters something quielty to himself.
He pours out the rest of the wine, letting it fall down into the "water" which surrounds Mt. Purgatory.
He watches it fall til he can't see it anymore and returns to sit besides the sword.
He lays back, staring up at the crack in the sky.
Uriel begins to cry.