The Last Sin Eater: Rewriting the Divine Program

By IMERPUS RELUR 

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There were no doors.

There never had been.

Imer stood inside a chamber without walls, yet somehow, it enclosed him completely. Time did not pass here—it rotated. Like an eye, blinking sideways.

A mirror hovered before him. Not glass. Not metal. It reflected nothing.

It waited.

He raised his hand, and the mirror breathed.

It didn't show his face. It showed a question.

> "When did you first forget that you were more than a name?"

The mirror rippled. A second question followed:

> "How many masks have you worn, hoping one of them would become your skin?"

Behind him, a presence stirred. Silent. Immense.

Not hostile. Not welcoming.

Just aware.

Imer didn't turn around. He knew it was himself. A version that had eaten too many stories and was now too full to speak.

He closed his eyes and walked through the mirror.

It shattered.

But he didn't bleed.