(A/N: The following scene is inspired by the short horror film "Portrait of God" by Dylan Clark on Youtube.)
No man shall see Me and live.
The first commandment that gave birth to life.
—And he spake unto the premier pope, saying, Thou shalt not behold my visage in this hour, lest my wrath be awakened against thee and thine, and I bring ruin upon thee and thy kin; for none who gaze upon me now shall draw breath again, for they are steeped in iniquity.
.........
"Tell me, what do you see?" The voice, though quiet, loomed in the empty chambers in an open space that spread out beyond the clouds, far and far away to the crest of the Divine Mountain.
The figure shrouded in darkness spoke in this dimly lit open space emanating cold air, with the vague outline of the moon covered by clouds hovering above the crystal-clear mirror ceiling.
"What do you see, King Eliheid?" The pope of the Church, Ishtar Langbard—along with many other cloaked priests—poked the King's psyche in some disturbing satanic ritual masked by their blind worship to the God of Creation, Ehit. With every heartbeat, the air grew frigid, and Eliheid shivered uncontrollably, his instincts screaming for him to flee.
Before them hung a curtain of absolute darkness, a void so complete it seemed to devour light itself. It had an alien pulse, like the heartbeat of a slumbering monster. The king's gaze was drawn to it, his mind recoiling even as his eyes refused to look away.
"I... I see nothing," Eliheid stammered, his voice barely a whisper. But even as the words left his lips, he knew them for the lie they were. In the depths of that unnatural blackness, something moved.
Ishtar's hand gripped the king's shoulder, his nails digging into flesh through layers of royal garments. "Look deeper," he hissed, his breath hot against Eliheid's ear. "Gaze upon the face of our Lord, He who watches from beyond the veil of mortal perception."
The gathered priests began to chant, their voices a dissonant chorus that set Eliheid's teeth on edge. The words were no language he knew, yet they resonated within his very bones, awakening the primal fears long buried in the collective unconscious of humanity.
With trembling hands, Eliheid reached for the curtain. The fabric—if it could be called such—was cold beyond measure, stealing the warmth from his fingertips. As he drew it aside, what lay beyond defied description, a sight that his mind struggled to process.
It was a face, yet not a face. A visage of bone and shadow—skeletal—with incomprehensibly large eyes like dying stars, and a maw that promised oblivion. It grinned, oh how it grinned, with a hunger that went beyond physical need.
"Behold," Ishtar breathed, his voice thick with ecstasy, "the true face of God."
Eliheid tried to scream, but no sound escaped his lips. The thing before him is no god, it was an abomination, a worldly joke played upon dozens of millions of souls' worth of belief. In its features, he saw reflected every sin, every dark thought, every moment of weakness he had ever experienced.
And it saw him in turn.
For to gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back unto you.
It was a hideous parody of vicious divinity.
A twisted majesty.
Its terrifying eyes pierced his soul, laying bare every secret, every shame. Eliheid felt himself unraveling, dissolving under the weight of that terrible scrutiny.
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