The abandoned building creaked and groaned under the weight of silence, its walls lined with graffiti that seemed to mock the desolation within. The air that circled through the broken windows hung heavy with dust and decay. And the moonlight filtering through those windows began to cast jagged shadows that danced across the hungry walls like specters reliving a cruel past, taunting anyone who dared to look upon them.

In the center of that desolate space lay Jon Maverick battered and broken on the cold concrete floor, his body a canvas of agony. Blood pooled around him, a stark contrast to the faded hues of the decaying surroundings.

And each labored breath he took echoed through the silent halls, a futile plea for help in a place where no one could hear him. His blood smelled like metal and made his nose crinkle. His clothes were ripped and dirty, and they felt heavy and wet against his skin. Every time he breathed, it hurt, like sharp needles poking into his chest.

Jon's heart pounded in his chest like drums in a storm. Fear gripped him tight, squeezing the air from his lungs. He didn't know who these people were or why they were hurting him. His skin prickled with terror, and his breath came in quick, shallow gasps. It felt like the world was closing in around him, suffocating him in darkness. He struggled to make sense of the chaos, his mind racing with questions that had no answers.

Despite the fear and pain, his face still held a kind of rugged beauty. His jawline was strong, with a hint of stubble that made him look even more handsome. His green eyes, normally bright and full of life, were now wide with fear, their usual sparkle dimmed by the darkness surrounding him. Even amid chaos, there was something undeniably alluring about him, a magnetism that drew people in. But now, that charm seemed out of place, a cruel contrast to the brutality of the situation he found himself in.

His attackers were looming over him, like ghosts in the dark, and when their blows reached his helpless body, his voice began to croak as he cried out in pain. His screams echoing through the empty halls creating a haunting melody of despair. With every scream that tore from his throat, the air seemed to thicken, suffocating him in a cloud of uncertainty. He could taste the metallic tang of blood on his lips, feel the sting of tears in his eyes. He wanted to fight back, to make them stop, but his limbs felt heavy and useless, like lead weights dragging him down into darkness.

Soon his vision began to blur as memories began to flicker like distant stars in the night sky. He remembered his mother’s smile, radiant and comforting, like a warm hug, making everything feel better.

Jon laughed as his life ebbed away slipping from the confines of pain and horror. Everything came to a standstill, but for a moment, Jon felt a sudden rippling sensation course through his body, as though something had been yanked from him with considerable force. And in that fleeting moment of silent horror, he knew he breathed his last.

The air grew thick with an ominous weight as Jon’s soul freed itself from his broken body. Confusion marred his young sixteen-year-old face, as he looked at his attackers, who began to check for his pulse.

They mocked him with a few more insults before they made sure he truly passed away. They just bashed his head in and left him to rot.

As his body lay still, his soul began its journey into the unknown. It floated upwards, weightless and free from the pain of his mortal wounds. Around him, darkness gave way to swirling colors, a breathtaking display that filled him with wonder and awe.

Suddenly, he found himself standing in the middle of an ocean, its crimson waters pulsating with an eerie glow. On the far shore, he saw a gathering of divine figures awaiting the souls rising from the blood-red river. Around him souls from different walks of life began appearing and started walking towards the shore. Their movements felt monotonous, as though programmed, like someone told them to do it.

Jon took a few moments to scan his surroundings, only to find crimson water. Out of curiosity, he took a mouthful of that blood-red water and drank it. It tasted sweet and sour at the same time, and when he drank it, a subtle ripple coursed through the ocean. Even Jon didn’t notice it. But something altered him, when he drank the water, he saw a glimpse of two eyes watching him in the distance, those cold yet kind eyes pierced his back. He did not dare to look back.

As he approached the divine assembly, Jon's senses were overwhelmed by the sights and sounds around him. The air crackled with energy, and the scent of incense lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of flowers.

The whispers of countless souls hummed gently in the air, creating an ethereal cacophony that filled Jon with awe. When he made it to the shore, he felt those eyes watching him again, and they almost commanded him to glance back at the crimson river, and to his surprise, he beheld a magnificent sight: a towering red tree stood in its midst. Its trunk was adorned with symbols from ages past, glowing softly like whispers of forgotten secrets.

Jon felt drawn to the tree, its presence exuding an enchanting allure that stirred his curiosity and sent shivers down his spine. This feeling only increased further as his eyes focused only on the tree, he could clearly see the ancient etchings on the tree. Something, or someone began to call him, it was not those eyes who watched him and commanded him, something else called to him, and his feet moved on their own, trying to get back into the river, to reach the tree. His eyes were glued to those ancient symbols which began to glow even more brightly, he could almost reach them... he could...

The singing or rather the call for his attention and action suddenly died away, when he heard another gentle voice whispering...

“Oh, you are indeed a curious one, aren’t you?” The gentle seductive voice whispered in his ear, “Come now, playtime is over.”

His heightened senses almost knocked him down. He gathered himself and made his way towards the ancient Gods.

Before his death, he was a catholic, so when he found a bright burning bush ahead of him, he wasn’t surprised.

As he made his way towards that light, he saw other souls, other people from other religions being judged. Those gods and goddess had more human shape, while his own God, looked more like a bonfire. But as he drew near, his emotions and feelings began to calm down, his anxiety washed away, and the warmth from the fire began to address his pain, his circumstances in death, his feelings of loneliness, he felt overwhelmed.

Memories surged through Jon's mind, each one a jagged shard of pain slicing through his thoughts. He struggled to contain the wave of sadness that threatened to engulf him, a lump forming in his throat. He wanted to cry, yet no tears came. Instead, a gentle whisper stirred within him, urging him to find solace. He felt an unexpected calm wash over him, leading to a curious thought: Can a soul cry?

He heard a deep rumble, followed by an ancient voice answering, "Maybe," the voice echoed in his ears, its tone rich with age and mystery. As the words reached him, Jon noticed the flickering fire before him, its flames dancing as if beckoning him closer.

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"You don't know," Jon blurted out, his voice trembling with a mix of defiance and fear.

A chuckle followed, low and resonant, from the ancient voice. "Brave one, aren't you?" The fire crackled, its flames shifting. "I'll humor you. Even we, the Gods and Goddesses, know very little about the true nature of souls."

"That's odd," Jon murmured, his eyes examining the fire.

"What is?" The ancient voice sounded intrigued, a hint of amusement coloring its tone.

"You say you know little about souls, yet here you are judging them," Jon replied, his voice steadier now.

"I didn't say we know nothing. I said, we know very little," the voice corrected, a note of patience in its words. "And yes, as the gods and goddesses who crafted your souls, of course we can judge you."

Jon's thoughts wandered as he watched the flames, their dance a mesmerizing spectacle. The fire's light cast long shadows across the divine assembly, highlighting their ethereal beauty and the stark contrast between light and dark. Each being seemed to carry a story, an ancient wisdom that both comforted and unnerved him.

"Why?" Jon asked, his voice barely a whisper. "Why judge us if you know so little?"

The fire flared briefly, illuminating the beach with a sudden burst of light. "Because, mortal," the ancient voice replied, "judgment is not about knowing everything. It is about understanding enough to guide you to what comes next."

As Jon tried to understand those words, his gaze drifted, taking in the congregation of divine beings before him. Their forms shifted and shimmered in the dim light, some glowing with a radiant, celestial aura, their faces serene and wise. Others remained cloaked in shadow, their eyes piercing the darkness with an intensity that sent shivers down Jon's spine.

He was mesmerized by the radiating unique aura of ancient power and timeless authority coming from each deity. He saw Anubis step forward to judge a soul. The jackal-headed god held out his scales, the golden balance shimmering in the ethereal light. A feather of Ma'at rested on one side, symbolizing truth and justice. Anubis spoke, his voice a deep resonance that echoed through an ancient Egyptian hall, the hall came into view only but for a moment.

"Your heart will be weighed against the feather of Ma'at," Anubis intoned. "Truth and justice will guide your path."

Anubis extended his hand towards the soul, his dark eyes piercing through the ethereal glow. The soul, understanding the gesture, offered a feather of its own. This feather, infused with the essence of the soul's entire life—every deed, every memory, every truth—was placed on the scales opposite the feather of Ma'at. The balance tipped slightly, shimmering with the weight of the soul’s experiences.

Anubis scrutinized the results, his gaze intense and all-knowing. "Peace comes to those whose hearts are light," he said in his deep regal voice. The scales settled, and a serene expression crossed Anubis’s face.

"You have lived justly," Anubis concluded, his tone gentle yet firm. "Enter the eternal fields." With a nod, he gestured towards a glowing portal, allowing the soul to pass into the afterlife, its face reflecting relief and gratitude. Jon could almost feel the ancient sands and the weight of centuries in Anubis's calm, measured movements.

Nearby, Hel turned her chilling gaze upon another soul. The split-faced goddess, with her dual appearance of beauty and decay, extended her skeletal hand towards the frightened spirit. Her eyes, one alive with light and the other a hollow void, seemed to pierce through the soul's very essence. As she moved, her gaze briefly shifted to Jon, a fleeting moment of curiosity flickering across her dual visage. Jon shivered under her scrutiny, feeling as if she saw right through him.

Despite her chilling reputation, there was an undeniable allure about her, drawing Jon in like a moth to a flame. She moved with a grace that seemed to defy the darkness surrounding her, her presence exuding a mysterious charm.

Their eyes met, and in that instant, Jon felt a surge of warmth flood his senses. It was as if time itself stood still, leaving only the two of them enveloped in a bubble of affection. Hel's gaze softened, her eyes mirroring the tenderness Jon felt deep within his heart. In that shared glance, Jon sensed a connection that transcended the boundaries of the mortal realm, a love that spanned lifetimes.

A smile tugged at the corners of Hel's lips, radiating a gentle warmth that melted Jon's defenses. In her gaze, he saw a reflection of his own desires, mirrored back to him with unwavering clarity. In Hel's presence, the world around him faded into obscurity, leaving only the vibrant hues of their shared affection.

But just as quickly as it had begun, the moment passed, and Hel turned her attention back to the soul awaiting judgment. Jon was left with a lingering sense of longing, a yearning to bask in the warmth of Hel's love once more.

“Careful, lad.” He heard the ancient voice advise him, as the burning bush flared up.

Jon just smiled and shifted his attention to Hel, the enchantress of the underworld.

"Speak your truth," Hel commanded, her voice both gentle and cold, like a winter wind whispering through bare branches.

The soul's form wavered under her scrutiny. "I... I am ready to face my fate," it stammered.

Hel's expression remained unreadable as she pointed to a shadowy path winding away into the darkness. "Then walk the path you have chosen," she replied. The soul, now resigned, drifted toward its destination. Jon felt a chill run down his spine, the brief connection with Hel leaving him with a sense of awe and fascination.

On the other side, Yama, with his deep blue skin glowing softly, approached another soul with a measured stride. His golden armor clinked softly with each step, and the noose and mace he carried added an air of authority. The soul before him bowed low, trembling. Yama's eyes, wise and ancient, regarded the soul with a mixture of sternness and compassion.

"What deeds have you brought before me?" Yama asked, his voice carrying the weight of countless judgments.

The soul responded in a language Jon didn't understand but felt resonated with deep truth. Yama nodded, satisfied. "You have been just. Enter the realm of peace," he decreed, gesturing to a radiant doorway. The soul floated through, its form becoming more solid and peaceful as it passed into the light.

Finally, Hades stepped into view, his dark robes flowing like liquid night. His eyes, pools of molten obsidian, fixed on a soul standing before him. Cerberus, the three-headed dog, growled softly at his feet, its eyes glowing. As Jon watched, Cerberus suddenly barked at him, the sound echoing through the ancient Greek underworld, that became visible for a moment, drawing the attention of the other gods and goddesses. Jon’s heart raced, feeling the weight of their curious gazes. Hades raised his bident, and the air around him seemed to ripple with ancient power.

"Silence," Hades commanded, his voice deep and resonant. Cerberus immediately quieted, its three heads turning to Hades in unison.

"Why do you seek judgment?" Hades asked the soul before him.

The soul's voice was barely audible to Jon, but Hades listened intently. "I seek redemption," it whispered.

With a slight wave of his bident, Hades directed the soul towards a lush green field visible through an opening that seemed to materialize from the very shadows. "Then find your peace," he declared. The soul moved forward, a look of relief washing over its features as it stepped into the serene landscape.

Jon stood in silence and watched the proceedings. Later with a deep breath, he turned to the fire and spoke, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "So, is it time for my judgment, then?"

A chuckle, ancient and wise, echoed through the air, "Maybe," the voice replied, amusement lacing its words. "Lad, your existence defies logic, you shouldn’t be here, yet you are."

"Huh?!" Jon's eyes widened in shock, confusion clouding his thoughts.

But before the ancient voice could elaborate, the winds began to howl and the sea churned violently, waves crashing upon the shore in a tumultuous frenzy. Chaos reigned as invisible bells rang out, and every deity from every mythology fell to their knees in reverence.

All eyes turned towards the sea, where the once serene crimson waters were now roiling and churning with an otherworldly energy. The red tree, a symbol of ancient wisdom, the one that Jon saw earlier was nowhere to be seen. Instead, from the depths of the ocean emerged a figure unlike any other, a being of celestial beauty and boundless wisdom.

The Goddess moved with a grace that transcended mortal and divine comprehension, her presence commanding the reverence of all who beheld her. As she approached, Jon felt a mixture of awe and fear wash over him, his heart pounding in his chest. Her eyes, twin pools of infinite darkness, seemed to pierce his very soul, laying bare the depths of his being. In her presence, Jon felt small and insignificant, yet strangely empowered by the sheer magnitude of her presence. It was as if the entire universe had conspired to bring them together in this moment of cosmic significance.

As the Goddess drew closer, Jon felt a sense of anticipation building within him, a primal instinct urging him to bow before her in reverence. Yet, he defied, refusing to bow to the enigmatic goddess.

The other deities and souls watched in astonishment; their eyes wide with disbelief at his audacity. Even the Goddess herself looked shocked for a moment, as a hint of surprise danced through her luminous eyes.

There’s a playful glint in her gaze, as if she found Jon’s actions both unexpected and intriguing.

“Jon, souls can indeed cry.” The Goddess answered, as she stood before him, matching his defiant gaze.