Pryce materialized in nothing.
Not darkness. Not light. Just... nothing. An endless void of gray emptiness where no sound echoed, no time passed, nothing existed except him and his thoughts.
"No," he whispered. "No, no, no—"
WELCOME TO YOUR PENANCE, the Void Lord's voice echoed. HERE YOU WILL REMAIN UNTIL YOU ACHIEVE TRUE REDEMPTION. OR UNTIL THE UNIVERSE ENDS. WHICHEVER COMES FIRST.
"Rhys did this to me—"
RHYS SAVED YOU FROM YOURSELF. NOW YOU HAVE ETERNITY TO UNDERSTAND THAT.
The presence faded, leaving Pryce utterly alone.
No palace. No art. No Elara. No victims to claim or obsess over.
Just himself and the memories of everything he'd done.
For the first time in three hundred years, Pryce couldn't run from the truth.
Couldn't distract himself with paintings or plans or possessive fantasies.
Had to sit in the silence and face every moment of cruelty, every victim, every choice that had led him here.
"I'm sorry," he whispered to the emptiness.
But there was no one to hear it.
No one to forgive him.
Just endless, absolute solitude.
This is hell, he realized. Real hell. Not fire and brimstone. Just being alone with who I really am.
And the worst part?
He deserved it.