After coming into contact with the corpse, you arrived.. Winds with no sound and planes with no bounds. In Purgatorio, you stood, but it was not as Dante had described it. Your eyes attempted to focus on a horizon, one that never came to your gaze. Grey clouds and grey bodies stood still, stagnant, and in their macabre wake, the culprit stood fervent as ever. Pungent in power and craving calamity, it stood, immovable and unyielding, for it had no eyes but its very being pierced your tempremence, an unrelenting fear. You continue, unsure whether your own hubris will be your own, or the creature's undoing.