The man of the world, once King, enters a barren room. There is nothing. No furniture, no decorations, just empty pale void. He was ushered into this place by Death himself, and now he awaits the next step in the process.
What process? The man does not know. He never believed in the afterlife, just empty oblivion after death.
"I suppose this empty space is a form of oblivion," the man says, "but I am still aware."
"That you are." A voice unseen responds.
"What is this place?" The man asks the voice.
"This is your review."
"My review? What sort of review?"
"The review of the life you just lived from beginning to end, from end to beginning, and from every point to each and every other point along with the paths in between. This is your life review."
"What? Review how? I see no means of review. There's not even a table for me to sit at and write, nor a podium from which to speak."
"Worry not," the voice says, "my associate arrives presently to initiate your review."
"I don't see anyone yet. I guess I must wait." Says the man.
As King the man never waited, others did the waiting. Waiting now chafes, but this is the afterlife and the man now speaks with disembodied voice. Was God not above even him? Words to that effect graced many lips and letterhead, but in his heart he did not believe it. Well, at least he can deign to wait.
The man of the world feels a hand on his shoulder. Turning around, the man faces a jackal-headed figure, one holding a dark, metallic device in his right hand. The device resembles the crucifix, but the bottom of the device is looped, a circular "O" attached to the more familiar cross.
"Hello." The man says to the jackal-headed figure who arrived without announcement. The man gets no response. The jackal-headed figure takes his left hand and grabs at something unseen. The very fabric of the space warps, a blueish-purple lattice appearing where none was before.
The jackal-headed figure pulls the lattice structure downwards, and from the space exposed by the lowering of the lattice a different sight is now seen by the man. Behind . . . behind where the lattice once stood is a greenish sky, and at the top of that sky shines a pure white sun.
The jackal-headed man affixes the flat end of the hooked cross device to the white sun, and through some force unknown remains steadfast in place. The jackal-headed man looks at the man of the world once King.
A feeling of dread fills the man, "What would you have me do?" The man asks.
Without a word, the jackal-headed figure grabs the man with both hands and without any effort lifts him up and turns him upside down. The jackal-headed figure hooks the man's left foot into the "O" of the device and bends the right leg across his left leg.
The jackal-headed figure then nails the right leg to the lattice structure. Anticipating pain, the man winces and struggles, but there is no pain. He feels absolutely nothing. There is no sensation whatsoever. The man relaxes, if only slightly. He still does not appreciate getting nailed to a . . . wall, or any sort of structure.
The gruff grunts of displeasure from the man do not dissuade the jackal-headed figure from continuing its work. The man's spine is straightened out then aligned. His hands, which he's allowed to dangle below his head are grabbed one after the other by the jackal-headed figure and are nailed to the lattice in turn.
"What is this all about?" the man yells, "I was once King! I may now just be another soul, but my crown must be worth something?"
"We shall inspect your crown, along with the rest of you." The disembodied voice answers.
The man's eyes cast toward the sun beyond his left foot, and what he sees shocks him. Emanating forth from the light in waves, tendrils take form. Of the infinite out-streamings of pure light, one tendril takes further form. Gaining the stripes of a snake, the tendril, or snake-like tentacle, grows a head.
It is the head of a swan. A head of a swan stands perfectly attached to the body of a snake, all made of pure light. The swan dives headfirst into the bottom of the man's exposed left foot hung up on the "O" of the device.
The swan's penetration is the most pleasurable feeling ever experienced by the man of the world. The man's awareness goes blank, soon the writhing of the swan-snake within his foot and leg have him seeing stars. Bright stars. Good stars. The most wonderful stars.
The swan reaches its first snack. In his time as King the man of the world debased his own currency. In the hereafter money does in fact grow on trees, the fruit of which carry the words we speak in our previous lived experience.
The King debased his own currency. His people suffered greatly at the feet of his lies. The swan devours the King from within, a crocodile emerges from the simmering light-waters of the emanating sun and devours from without.
The screams of the man fill the empty room in which he hangs with his first swan song. From the tattered remains of the man's feet emerges the snake-swan, object in mouth. The swan drops a golden coin from its beak, and that coin falls, glistering by the man's eyes and drawing his gaze down as the coin lands side up in the palm of a disembodied hand.
Emerging from the cloud holding the coin is an Ibis-headed figure. The Ibis pockets the coin. All words, all symbols, all Knowledge and Disknowledge alike belong to the Ibis. Even the debased currency of lies uttered by a King belong to the the Ibis-headed being.
"We now continue," The Ibis-headed figure says to the man, "pay me no mind while I perform my work behind the curtain."
The Ibis-headed figure returns behind the clouds from which he emerged. The man shakes in pain and terror. The swan dives right back into his body, the ecstasy fills him once more. The man forgets the pain of his lies, his debasement no longer belongs to him. The swan does not have to dig far to reach its second snack.
The man of the world gives the disembodied hand a piece of his mind. The sword of the former King's broken oaths flood out, thousands of swords cutting their way through his body as the swan goes into a frenzy. A tiger emerges from the sun and latches its jaws firmly on the man's hip and thigh.
Of the many thousands of swords now cutting through the man, one emerges in the mouth of the swan-snake. The swan deposits the sword as it did the coin, and the same disembodied hand catches the sword. The snake-swan gets back to its great work.
Further up into the man the swan-snake slithers, again the ecstasy. All the swords, the broken oaths, fade away into the background of bliss and pleasure. Soon the snake-swan reaches into the lower abdomen, and there the swan finds it's third snack.
The snake, avoiding the man's groin and heart for now, roots around throughout the rest of his abdomen. When the swan hits the center of the belly, the swan finds something sweet. Wine. Cups and cups of wine, all overflowing. The King drank. The King drank a lot, to excess.
The snake enters the largest cup of wine and drinks its fill. The swan gets drunk and loses all inhibition. The resulting tearing through the man's body wrenches the man as his guts are completely rearranged. Once the snake sobers up with its belly full, it emerges and drops an empty cup into a waiting hand.
The man's third swan song is a wailing lament. Once more the snake enters the body of the man.
Where the former King once wielded the wand of his Kingdom, the snake digs out a memory. The man sees his first lust, the poor woman he raped in his display of absolute power over his realm. The swan needs no help from other creatures, instead many dozens of other swan-snakes emerge from the sun, pouring into the man from above.
A wand drops from the man, and a hand is there to catch it.
The man is lost, his mind filled with gaping holes. The snake-swan continues its work, but not even the highest pleasures touch the blasted mind of the rattled man of the world. Once all is said and done, the swan emerges from the head of the man, the act of emergence knocking the former King's crown off its perch.
The bottom heavy crown of gold tumbles through the air, and the disembodied hand emerges yet again, this time with the sword it caught prior. The crown lands center on the sword and fixes itself in place. From where the former King's left ear once rested a palm-branch of algae grows up and over the edge of the crown, draped over the side.
The hand holding the sword retreats, but immediately returns with the wand in had as the final act begins. Two of the snakes coil themselves around the wand, and the Ibis-headed figure steps fully into the room with the hanged man of the world to place the wand into the heart of the man.
The resulting reaction wrenches the unconscious man, his bodily consciousness responding where his mind can no longer. The Ibis-headed figure returns behind the curtain, and flying down from the sun above are two more creatures. The first is a butterfly, which follows the snakes into the heart.
Finishing up in the rear, the second creature, a dove, enters into the man's heart and reemerges with something in its mouth. The dove carries an olive branch, and a hand issues from a cloud once more with sword and palm adorned crown. The dove drapes the olive branch over where the right ear once sat, and the two leafy plants are easily compared in length side by side on the crown.
The Ibis-headed figure emerges from behind their curtain and quickly eyes the crown and its contents. The figure clicks its beak once and the jackal-headed being removes the man from the hook on high.
"It's back to the world with you," says the Ibis-headed figure to the man who cannot hear, "the swan ate better than the dove this last go around. Better luck next time."
The man regains awareness for a brief moment as he hurdles towards the light.
Back on the Earth, a family of warlocks practice dark magic over the womb of a pregnant woman. Their divination told them this wife of the family is to give birth to a daughter, her firstborn child being a she. The head of the family won't have it, and he gathers the best alchemists money can buy to alter his ordained daughter into a son.
The lead warlock begins the alchemical procedure, and as the warlock pulls the words of the ritual from his mind he hears for a brief moment the clicking of a bird's beak. The warlock brushes the noise aside and casts the spell. The Reading Family will have its First Son, Named Leo.