Heaven's gates are tightly shut, revealing neither divine hymn nor holy embrace to comfort lost wanderers. No oasis in the desert for the weary to rest, or to sate their hunger and thirst with the mana of the eternal kingdom. The saints are nowhere to be found; to greet and embrace their last guest. Afraid, alone, forgotten - the one left behind. A heart, weeping in darkness, asks: "Where is God?" An eternity passes. A voice answers. "To join with God? A fantastical folly. Such a thing is beyond the evil of man." A six-fingered hand grasps a frail shoulder. The beast-maw stretches wide: welcoming, reassuring. "Why prostrate in front of an impossible God? Embrace that which lies within: the devil road awaits."