In the white void between worlds, a place outside of time where concepts like distance and direction held no meaning, a powerful entity gazed into the swirling mists of reality. The image of dark-haired boy whistling in the car reflected in its formless perception. The entity let out a sigh that was less sound and more a ripple in the fabric of existence, a tremor of cosmic sorrow.
The void shimmered.
"Oh, my dear $#@!…" The entity's voice was soft, mournful, its syllables bending reality itself.
"Again, you walk unconsciously upon a path carved from dead bodies. Again, you stain your hands in blood not yet spilled. I wish… I wish I could do something."
With a gesture akin to the flick of a hand, the mists swirled violently. The image of the boy and his concrete world vanished, replaced by a scene of impossible scale, a world forged in myth and legend.
...
