There was cold and there was ice, no water existed, there was simply the cold and there was the nothing where no life could ever stay, where the smallest smidge of live would be driven away, so was the place where he had been for so long now.
In truth it had only felt like a few months, but it had probably been far longer, at some point he felt as if his very mind had slowed down from the incredible cold, at first he had even gone insane, but after a few days, or rather, perhaps in a few years, centuries, he truly had no smidge of an idea, his sense of time was completely gone after all, he had gone sane again, simply because insanity had become too boring for him.
It had become his hobby to count the passing storms, but now, after not having even known who he was for so, so, very long, he finally had something, he had the memories of a body called Cades, and he felt as if he was Cades Kirgun, the body who had fallen from the skies and seen his parents dead bodies, oh, in his insanity back then he had laughed back when the memories first arrived in his mind, but now, he felt oh so so so sad each time he thought of it.
Long since they had arrived he had questioned why he had memories, why he even had a mind if his very existence was just here, nailed to the red cross amidst endless nothing and ice that had not changed since he had arrived here, no, since he had been born here, since the very beginning of this realm in which there truly only ever was cold, boredom, and nothing else.
For even death was not there where no life was, and the only life here was Cades, or whoever he was now, who could not die.
A bit ago, perhaps a few decades, perhaps even just a few seconds, he had actually heard a voice calling themselves 'John', but it had just sounded like Cades in disguise, like himself, so he wasn't certain what that had been about, though it had said he should just wait for now.
But really, what else was he doing?
Cades had never done anything else in this realm, he had only waited, he had only been insane, he had only suffered, he had only starved, he had only been in pain, he had only been perpetually dying, all on top of this blood red cross, as big as a mountain, a small one, at least according to Cades who had become more and more, well, him, over time.
Was he Cades?
...to be honest, he probably was, that Cades was certain about, at least in some manner, but really, who was to say who they, even they themselves, were?
What was Cades?
Why was Cades?
Who was Cades?
Or even the weirdest question, when was Cades?
Whoever he was, he could answer most of the questions, he knew that he was Cades, yes, he knew what Cades was, a person, at least one of some manner, he didn't know why Cades was, that was a question for whoever had put him here, perhaps they could know, he did not really know who Cades was, that was something he had not found out about himself yet, but he did not know when he would truly become Cades again.
Neither did he know when he would ever hear anything aside from the roars of the wind, when he would feel anything other than his own pain, his own mind's screams, that eternal ringing scream in the distance, his stomach digesting itself, or the eternal snow whipping his face until, still numb, it slowly started to bleed, the only meal he had gotten int he last, well, forever, because after all this time, no matter how much he thought, there was only this, nothing else.
He could only think of ancient thoughts, laugh about stories untold, suffer more and more, and wait for whatever he should wait for, listening to the only voice, even that belonging to him, that he had ever heard, his body not even truly being his body.
Though, according to Cades memories, he should at least be happy that he didn't feel warm at some point, because, according to the knowledge he had stored, which, thankfully, was quite a lot, that was a clearcut sign of hyperthermia, where he would soon die of the slow blood-flow and succumb to the eternal cold, though, maybe, that was a good thing at this point.
However, now, he was hanging atop the cross, his feet dangling weakly in the wind, never even having touched the ground as far as he, the him that was not Cades, the him that had not spoken in the weird voice could remember.
But, lately, he felt something, something coming closer and closer to his mind, to the mind of Arges, a name he had chosen after he had let out that very sound when being hit by a powerful and big clunk of ice brought by by the eternal ice, his greatest enemy, the desert of nothing having long become blinding in both the light and the sun, the eternal white having driven his mind insane long before he even was a person, simply a body on a cross.
Yes, that was Arges world, but oh so dearly did he wish to fall, oh so dearly did he wish to fly as Cades did in his memories, oh so dearly did he wish to truly starve, without being held in place, oh so dearly did he wish to, yes, even just be in pain, oh so dearly did he long for a sensation, because in this eternal cold, feeling was something he had never truly done, the cold having numbed his body from the very moment it came to be.
Now, however, he was just repeating himself over and over again, trying to stay sane, at least relatively, as the voice had asked him to, as his only friend had asked him to, as h-
"I'm back, Arges." the voice of Cades resounded.