In a world with no sky, three figures stood at the shore of an ocean of black.
The middle figure, adorned in a white robe, raised a dagger skyward.
Her wings, tiny spines of ivory, pointing out like a million needles, flexed out to span an impressive length. Each spine rattled gently, the tips like angler teeth. In her other hand, she held a squirming shape, hidden beneath a draped piece of beautiful shimmering silk.
The other two figures stood at either side of the first, their gaunt, hollow limbs moving in unison, a dance to carry the words of the dagger wielding woman.
"In this land of ash," began the first figure, her mouth cracking open and snapping shut with each syllable, "we weigh life like gold."
Her dagger sliced away the silk covering the writhing lump in one shallow swing. It fell to the ground, revealing a squealing baby, legs kicking, tiny pink fingers grasping at nothing.
At this, a blast of warm, stale air from the infinite ocean rolled over the group, followed by a deep, inhuman hum.
"As life falls from the heavens, so we give it willingly, back to Inferni."
The dagger fell. The crying stopped.
A thin hand with curled, bony fingers, skin like dried parchment, tiled.
A tiny lifeless body fell, with barely a splash, into the black abyss.
"We beg, in return, for one wish," said the murderer, her blade still slick with blood that carried the warmth of life.
A voice boomed from the nothing beyond, through the horizon where the nothing above mingled with the darkness of the water below until it became one solid tapestry of infinite black.
It was nothing more than another inhuman hum, lower in pitch than the first.
It was enough for the thin lips of the murderer to curl into a smile. She watched with all twelve of her eyes as the limp body floated out from the shore, face down, until it was violently pulled under by something unseen.
"I wish for the gate to open," she said, her voice monotone.
For a while there was nothing, only the gentle rattling of her wings, while the others silently continued to dance.
Another warm gust of air, like the final breath of a cadaver, rolled out over them.
The figure lowered the dagger slowly, and wiped it across her tunic. Red ebbed outwards like a web, staining the pure canvas.
Finally, the trio turned to leave.
The black sand filled in their foot prints immediately, leaving no trace.
