For a moment, it had all melted away. The pain faded into grey and aches that lasted over millennia flowed into an embodiment of comfort. 

Silence like ocean waves on his ears faded out, into a clear ringing sound, with a hushed breeze touching his ears into the hollow places, hair, and ruffling a long garment ending around his knees. The wind touched through rips in the thin fabric, yet somehow didn't chill him. It was warm and familiar.

The graceful feeling of equilibrium, peace, was disturbed by laughter that seemed to come from all angles. A voice that touched the deepest places in his mind, awakening memories that had been suppressed through careful means of planning. Eyelids flickered, breathing started again, and feeling returned all at once.

Neophyte Whembrooke was warm. Full of warmth, in broken, ragged clothing that was stained with his blood. He didn't have wounds, except for a long jagged one across his neck. His hands were bound and he was sitting up against a wall. 

"I'm so glad we're equal once more," purred the laughing voice, piercing the ringing in Neophyte's ears. Its tone wasn't completely natural, and it seemed to pierce his weak, confused brain. A shuffling of robes as one stood alerted him to a lanky man standing in the corner of his eye.

Neophyte was unable to turn his head, but he was able to see a shining black grand piano, surrounded and sunk in by greenery and moss surrounding it. In fact, the entire area they were in seemed to be an encapsulate of a forest biome, boxed in by invisible walls. Flowers and insects of all kinds frequented this area, glowing in spectrality as the area blossomed. 

"You won't be able to turn your head, Neophyte, but I assume you understand that your days are over," spoke the voice once more, the man finally walking into full view. He was a spectral being, with long black robes that curved around his lanky legs, drifting around his calves in an invisible breeze. Neophyte dragged his eyes up to recoil as the features he once knew... were mutilated, blinded, and bleeding. 

He seemed quite fine with this though, as he curled his arms together underneath his large sleeves, leaning forward to get a better look at Neophyte through his blind eyes. His lips were stitched shut, and his face seemed incapable of expressing any sort of emotion. 

To Neophyte's surprise, the stitched, frowning lips curled up at the edges where they weren't stitched, before his voice came from nowhere once again: "It's so satisfying to see you like this, my dear twin. I was so delighted to hear I was tasked with dealing with you."

Neophyte gripped his hands into fists slowly as memories arose, and he inhaled sharply through his nose. He growled in an angry, hoarse voice, "Dealing with me?" Neo shifted against the wall, attempting to sit up closer to his twin.

"Yes, dealing with you. And don't bother moving, it won't work." Metaphorical stood straight again, tossing his long hair from his grey eyes. "Oh, and I'm not Metaphorical anymore, Neophyte. Unlike you, I was given the chance of another life." His twin leered down at him, almost in a satisfactory way. 

Neophyte glared at his twin, with years of strife and anger behind them, just to be met with apathy behind grey eyes. 

"What's going to happen to me, Metaphorical?" Neo spat at his feet, his icy eyes glaring harder as if trying to make the blind God feel it. 

Leiden kicked his feet, rubbing the spit off of them carefully. "I go by Leiden, now, I'm sure you have heard of me. Many of your followers have come and asked for your demise. I have confidence in saying that I probably had more of an influence on your downfall, rather, your death, than you think."

Neophyte rose his eyebrows at Leiden at the mention of his name, trying to kick his legs out to stand, but suddenly the feeling in his legs faded. "You're not making any sense, why did they pick you over me?" 

Leiden leaned down and suddenly seized Neophyte by his neck, lifting him with ease with a strong arm, pulling him high up in the air. His entire being seemed to swarm with power. Despite the pair making direct contact, Neophyte couldn't read anything from his subconscious, in fact Neophyte was stuck with his own, rambling, panicking thoughts.

"I think it's funny how you always considered yourself to have the higher ground over me," Leiden hummed in a happy tone, his lips curled up. "How you always thought you were more powerful, more deserving of power and attention. Yet here we are, at an equilibrium, where I could knock you down and extinguish you--" the grip around Neophyte's neck grew harder yet, making the latter struggle meekly with no avail-- "I should kill you right now. I truly, honestly should. I should rip your existence out of your pitiful body and crush it between my fingers and be allowed the satisfaction of watching you die. I was guaranteed that when I took up my Godship. Yes, I'm the God of Turmoil and Suffering, but I'm allowed this addicting feeling of watching you *finally* be under me. I've wanted to see that fear in your eyes for so long."

His strong arm swung around and thrust Neo away like he was some discus, throwing him like a piece of trash onto the soft, mossy floor. Neophyte stirred on the ground, coughing as his lungs retracted and struggled to breathe. He pushed himself up slowly with his arms, only to be lifted slowly by the back of his shirt and flipped over. 

Leiden was standing over him, smiling down at him. "I think you deserve much more than what I could give you, though. For killing my friends, my real family, for brainwashing the people I lived for, and torturing endless amounts of people." 

"It was better than anything I could have ever done, Leiden," Neo rasped through heaving breaths, smiling sinisterly. "I couldn't imagine you--" He was cut off by a swift kick to his temples, and weight set onto his throat.

"As much as I know you enjoy listening to yourself, I'm pretty sick of it." Leiden smiled a little wider through his stitches, his laughter filling Neo's head again. 

"I have some thinking to do, though."