Visions of the After-Life: a revelation.

We know from the Prophet Anethion and Truth the Light revealed to Him, and then us, that death is not the end. We affirm every week of the assumption of the Pure and the casting down of the Wicked, but what of the intricacies of the Light’s judgement, the here after and our role therein? I had many questions; I doubted the Light’s plan for us and even began to question whether I believed in the affirmation that the “assumption of the pure, casting down of the wicked” is Truth. Fasting, prayer and the consumption of blessed communal water have granted me visions and dreams, dreams that have not always been pleasant but have revealed to me the finer details of the Final-Trial.

I dreamt that I had perished my self, and that I was a soul, drifting through the beyond. What I saw warped and changed as I travelled, until I reached ground. I was half way up a hill, in the middle of a road leading up to the top of this hill from the bottom. As the road progressed upwards, it broadened, and was covered in life, full of joy and all sorts of pleasures; I could hear angelic sounds in the distance as I edged my way closer, but I turned back. I know felt nothing but to gaze down the other end of the road, that which lead to the bottom of the hill.

As I looked down at it, I saw that it became more of a path than a road… I walked down it, the path strewn with thorns and rocks, I saw souls coming towards me getting brighter and brighter with each step they walked, until they were on the wide path and amongst the angelic sounds. I kept walking down the path, downwards to where the souls were emerged. Then they stopped emerging, what I thought was the bottom of the hill was the literal bottom of the hill. It was floating in nothingness. Off the precipice on which I stood was only darkness and void. I turned to my right and a man was standing there, dressed in red and covered in scars. He held a large book in which he wrote as each poor soul passed. It was Abbot Bernard, he that taught pain purifies the soul, he that watched over those who were judged according to their Good and Bad deeds by the Light, he that read the list of individual Sins to the Light before It's verdict. I asked him where those travelling upwards were going, he answered with "The Garden of Paradise", where those deemed righteous by the ever-just Light are sent to become one with It, reap the rewards of putting faith in It and doing the Sacred Duty.

I asked what was out there, and what I was shown, I shall never forget. An endless expanse of void, nothingness except for the wailings of souls that are tortured without respite. I could not see what tortured them, but I asked myself the question and an answer immediately come into my mind, spoken with a depth of clarity I had never before heard in my life. Those banished to the Nether are tortured by Five Factors: The first is constituted by their complete separation from the Holy-Light, goodness no longer speaks in their soul; they are without the rewards of the Light: comfort, warmness, kindness, joy. The second is the perpetual remorse of conscience; the third is the sure knowledge that they’re condition will never change, the fourth torture is conditional darkness and a terrible suffocating smell, and despite the darkness, the demons of the Nether and the souls of the damned see each other and all the evil, both of others and their own; and the fifth torture is a horrible despair, hatred of the Holy-Light, vile words, curses and blasphemies. These are the sufferings the damned face all together, but it is not the end of their suffering. They are naught but the play-things of demons, those things wreak all manner of horrors on their toys, our blessed Prophet was not speaking in figurative language when He said they would 'feed on their own filth'. The demons themselves hated me being there, they taunted me, they cursed me, they tempted me with diabolic powers detestable: Holy-Light, purify my mind of these fouls memories... I would have perished surely if it were not for the grace of the Light and the sanctity of Bernard. What I have written is but a pale shadow of the things I saw, but I must move on to what was revealed to me next.

Bernard called it ‘The Wandering’ – an endless expanse of sickly green hues that are wandered by those who have done Good deeds in their lives, but have pledged themselves to false ideologies and beliefs, loving forces of the world other than the Light. The souls of Shamans, Druids, Pagans, Heathens all dwell here. Occupying a senseless, emotionless space. Compared to the Nether, they only have two form of suffering here, but they are by far the worst: a total absence of the Holy-Light and a longing for the Light they refused.

All of a sudden, I was without Bernard, but with a heavenly, angelic soul, his incorporeal form still clad in robes and armour. He was Richard, in life, the first of all Shadowbreakers, now: the gatekeeper to the garden of Paradise. I entered and oh, what inconceivable favours the Light gifts a soul that has faith in It sincerely. I saw how all souls gave ceaseless praise to that which had gifted them with such a glorious life ever-lasting in exchange for faith. My soul was filled with peace and love, and the more I come to know the greatness of the Light, the more joyful I become that It is as It is. I gazed upwards, and I saw It. It’s holy light blinded my sight, how I longed to get a proper glimpse of It, but I could not; It’s glory was no less pronounced despite this, It spoke to me. I saw the silhouette of the Prophet Anethion beside it, smiling down at me, surrounded by what appeared to be like crytalized beings of energy, that sung an angelic song.

Then, I awoke. I have been writing this furiously since then, not just out of the Light’s commandment to me to inform It’s church of my visions, but to warn those who disbelieve in the depravity and horror of the Nether and the fate who that disobey the Light; and stain their soul with sin, I have seen it with my own eyes, and can testify to It’s existence. Consequently, I pray even more fervently for the conversion of sinners. I incessantly plead Light’s mercy upon them. O, Light, I would rather be in agony until the end of the world, amidst the greatest sufferings, then offend You by the least sin.

- Lector Sharrif Al-Khattab

(Reminds me of the divine comedy. Funnily enough Arkson and the Friars of the Pure word were based on the Dreams of the afterlife expirienced by Rodric.)