Genesis

After underestimating the strength of the oncoming solar wind and getting pushed into a black hole, [REDACTED] finds himself stranded on a strange planet flooded with with water. The sky is bright, and there appear to be two Suns, one burning a firey amber and the second a vibrant midnight blue. The vast desert of starkness enevloping the dark infinite shimmers with the millions of realities that fill this universe, this universe that does not belong to him. [REDACTED] does not belong here, and [REDACTED] has no plans on staying here. 

His ship had gone down moments after he crashed, the tidal currents pulling the last connection he had with his former reality into the dark abyss like the hands of the Souls of the Damned reaching up from the caverns, grabbing and pulling all they can in a desperate attempt to escape their inevitable suffering. The Devil had spared his soul today. Despite the goliath waves that took his ship, [REDACTED] woke up on a piece of driftwood, floating peacefully in the current. He sold his life in exchange for another. 

In the distance he spots a small island, its beige surface shining incongruent with the bleak expanse like a blooming rose in the desert. He starts to paddle towards it but finds that it does nothing. The current is pulling him that way anyways, all he can do is wait. 

What seem like days go by, but there's no way to tell-- the Suns don't set. They don't move but [REDACTED] can feel them following him, like the eyes of a haunted painting. The air is frigid and bitter but the broiling rays from the Suns will never let you feel it, only the keen scalpel of gale that cuts with serrated frost.

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Floating on the raft he was fighting not only the world, but himself as well. The island seemed so far away, and he wasn't sure if he could even make it there. Every moment he spent on the raft was another moment he felt the unrelenting elements deteriorate his body and will. He fought the temptation to dive into the depths of the River Styx, the temptation to give the Devil his soul. At wits end, nothing but spite kept his Hearth aflame. He already gave his life to the Devil, [REDACTED] wanted this; if he gave up before he even started his journey then he gave up everything for nothing. At long last, his skin sanded and his stomach starved, [REDACTED] finally washes ashore the terrestrial oasis he thought was a mirage along the horizon.

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The island was inhabited, but not for a long time. Crumbling rot silhouetting a small village greets [REDACTED] as he trudges up the dunes. The dark shadows were embraced by what appears to be colorful vines, although the vines have no leaves and don't look vegetative; they seem to pulsate and slither slightly, but its hard to tell through the visible beams of the Devil's Will emmitted by the wrathful flames that govern the sky. [REDACTED] finds one thing that survived the test of time: a singular chair facing the ever present company in the sky. The silky earth flows between his chafed fingers as he shovels enough of it out of the way to implant the humble plank that carried him to safety, a tribute to its strength and protection but also a sobering reminder that the bridge he arrived on has been burned. As he lifts his savior into the merciless sunlight, he notices a dark enscription on the underside, a word he has never heard before but feels will be important on his journey: SAMSKARA. As the soul inhabitant of the planet, [REDACTED] decides to name it after the gondola that brought him along the River Styx. 

Ever since he landed, he's felt like someone's been watching him. He decided to take a much needed smoke break and watch them back. "I will figure out who You are. I will find You. I will find a way out of this place. I will escape this realm."

-- Slatcoin