YOUR GOD ABANDONED YOU HERE

As he was dragged once again across the rocky terrain, his limbs aching and his mind fevered, Mr. Edward's thoughts turned inward, struggling to grasp some rationale for the horror that surrounded him.

"What abominable conditions had shaped them into this?" He thought, eyes filled with uncertainty.

They were as uncanny as they were enchanting, a kind of eldritch enchantment that could perhaps breed unhealthy attachments to those not of them.

Time passed, and Mr. Edward, despite the vivid sensations that besieged him so far, wondered if this and every phantasmagoria he had experienced so far was yet another schizophrenic delusion.

One must preface this account with the undeniable realization that his faculties may be compromised, for no rational mind could ever hope to grasp the monstrous shapes that loomed before and around him, nor comprehend their ghastly design without falter.

Nevertheless, the vision remained etched into his mind like a fevered nightmare from which he could not wake and did not wish to wake as his astonishment at this domain, be it originating from the cyclopean depths of his mind or his chilling reality, knew no bounds, despite his situation.

Enduring the chilling cold exacerbated by the occasional gelid droplet that came from the abyss above, Mr. Edward attempted to gather information.

He had long grown unmoving and as they walked through an interminable amount of space, Mr. Edward felt his heart drop at the unchanging scenery that peered back at him.

The crowd had diminished, possibly due to a loss of interest in his macabre case, the only sound being the footsteps of the persistent few that lacked apathy and, of course, the marchings of four men, one of which had the nape of his neck firmly in their grasp.

With his heart beating erratically, Mr. Edward observed as they passed by yet another dangling rope close enough for him to observe that they were handmade perhaps by the same ominously natural material that was the ropes of his hammock.

The black trees were unending the ground of shining rocks that numbed his senses so that Mr. Edward, even in his frightened state, still tried to comprehend the details of its origin.

"What are they planning to do to me?" He thought, his trepidation one of many that ravaged his mind, his imagination working on overdrive to conjure the most abominable of scenarios.

Perhaps he was to be beheaded, imprisoned, fed to a chthonic monster, or subjected to a new form of punishment he dared not think about.

As they advanced, he noted more oddities: the sinewy ropes that hung from the void and the void itself were unchanging. The same went for the jagged and rocky ground, but there was a difference.

Hills almost monolithic in height, made of what seemed to be the same primordial black soil much like the material of his hut was spotted, making him remember the other huts similar to his own he had seen on the way.

Those huts seemed to be the dwelling places of the crowd that gathered before.

The trees had reduced, revealing more of the secretive terrain, but what was revealed of the mud hills did not calm the mind.

Mr. Edward, stare as he might, could not wholly discern what species these strange creatures belonged to, yes, creatures skulking in and out of the gaping holes in the towering mud hills.

From the dim lighting provided by the fungi, came the revelations of these oddities.

It was as though they were some unholy fusion of mammalian and insectile origins, their slender, wiry frames cloaked in a fur so black that it seemed to leech light from its surroundings, casting a distortion that twisted the gaze.

This maddening blur rendered the creatures spectral, their outlines quivering as if they teetered on the cusp of existence.

Their clawed feet, pale and almost cadaverous, bore a resemblance to those of a rat, though grotesquely enlarged and webbed in a manner more befitting a hideous amphibian of the deep.

The sight of them conjured an inexplicable revulsion, for they seemed to mock the natural order with their abhorrent amalgamation of features, as though spawned from a realm where the very laws of life and death had been twisted beyond reason.

One might, in a brief moment of delusion, mistake them for mere oversized vermin, but any such comfort was swiftly obliterated when one gazed upon their head's ghastly, alien visages that defied description. It was there, in those repulsive faces, that the true horror became manifest.

The creatures' antennae, short, thick, and pulsating with an otherworldly light, quivered as they moved, and Mr. Edward, try as he might, dared not consider what function they served.

The tips of these grotesque appendages emitted a soft, sickly glow, faintly illuminating their surroundings, but the light was wrong, too stark, too white like some maddening beacon that seemed to bend the very fabric of perception.

The head itself resembled that of a colossal ant, yet it was grotesquely disproportionate to the creature's body, a bulbous mass that quivered with unsettling vitality.

And then there was the most inexplicable horror: there was no visible mouth. No mandibles, no jaws nothing that could be called a maw in any earthly sense.

Instead, the lower half of the head was dominated by a spiraling drill, its surface lined with luminescent patterns that pulsed with a rhythm that made my very soul tremble.

The drill, by some eldritch force, rotated with a hypnotic spiral, moving in and out of the flesh with a nauseating precision.

These nightmarish entities emerged from the looming hills with a ghastly cadence, the rhythmic, spiraling motion of their "mouths" turning the landscape into a phantasmal expanse.

To see them advance was like witnessing a hallucination from which he did not want to escape, their numbers frightening him.

Silently, Mr. Edward thanked the gods for limiting their size, and judging by the nonchalance displayed by the four men who held him, they seemed to pose little or no threat as is.

Ashamed and slightly embarrassed was Mr. Edward for his rather uncouth reaction to what could be this word's disturbing definition of pests.

But as they advanced, he noted that these harrowing pests seemed to be the only living organisms inhabiting this space and, as per their faint resemblance to ants, the source of the towering hills that plagued the land.

By now, no one followed Mr. Edward, except the four unspeaking men that led him deeper into the unknown.

"Is it possible to escape?"

Mr. Edward could not help but think to himself, strange yet familiar pangs of unease and dread gnawing at his mind, but it was a dread he quickly discarded.

The novelty had started to wane, the scenery repetitive, and that seemed as though it would be the case for eternity, but nothing ever truly remains the same, and that was the unforeseen case for this scenario as well.

Heat amidst the chilling rain that had now dampened his hair drenched his clothes, and chilled his skin.

It was refreshing and at the same time, a curious subject that trickled Mr. Edward's curiosity among other things on his mind.

Though his fears were still present, it was once again overshadowed by a new revelation, one accompanied by loud resounding...

"Clang!"

The deafening, resonant clanging of metal striking metal jarred Mr. Edward from his thoughts, leaving his senses muddled and his mind spinning.

The sound seemed to come from a distance, rising from the glowing hills ahead like a relentless drumbeat, each echo more unsettling than the last.

Unlike the damp and soaked mounds they had previously passed, these hills appeared scorched, their surfaces cracked and dry.

The holes once occupied by those strange creatures remained, but the creatures themselves were absent, as though they had long since been rendered obsolete by something far more ominous.

From those yawning holes, fiery light spilled forth with each metallic strike. The glow was unnatural, casting long shadows that danced and flickered like tortured phantoms.

The air itself had shifted; the damp, chilling scent that had followed them for miles was now infused with the sharp, acrid tang of burning fire, heat, and the unmistakable stench of something long smoldering beneath the earth.

And with it came a good revelation: not all the beings in this forsaken land were cold-blooded.

"What is that sound?" Mr. Edward muttered under his breath, squinting against the fiery glow as he tried to ignore the numbing pain in his neck.

He had grown accustomed to the indignity of being carried like an animal, but the overwhelming sense of dread refused to release its grip on him.

It was only when they drew closer, the hills looming larger, that Mr. Edward finally laid eyes on the source of the noise.

The sight before him was not what he had imagined, not a machine or some alien beast. Instead, the clangs came from men, if they could even be called such, working with a ferocity that defied human limits.

The tallest man Mr. Edward had ever encountered was no more than eight feet tall, but these beings dwarfed even that.

Each stood at least eight feet, perhaps more, their forms exaggerated and grotesque, as though their muscles had been carved by some ancient sculptor obsessed with power and brutality.

Their torsos gleamed under the heat of the flames, sweat mingling with soot as they wielded colossal hammers with effortless ease.

They swung their tools down upon something within the flames, but the blaze was too bright, too intense for Mr. Edward to discern what they were crafting.

Their inhuman proportions were fully on display, bare-chested and rippling with strength, whilst smaller, frailer figures toiled in chains behind them.

These figures, helpers, or more accurately slaves, were naked, their very human bodies pitiful and exposed in comparison to the giants allowing Mr. Edward to discern that their reproductive organs at least in all outward appearance resembled those familiar to him.

Their flesh was bound by thin but unyielding chains, each link connected to the belts of their colossal masters, and they trembled as they assisted in the infernal labor.

Some of the slaves struggled to hold the red-hot metal in place as it was hammered into shape, their skin blistering under the heat.

Others tended to molten forges, their raw hands pouring searing liquid into molds, barely able to withstand the unbearable proximity to the fires.

Cries of pain escaped from the slaves' lips, but they went unnoticed or uncared for by the giants.

The slaves' suffering was palpable, their bodies sagging under the weight of their endless tasks, yet the chains kept them bound, forcing them to continue in their misery. Every movement they made was accompanied by winces of agony, their eyes hollow, devoid of hope.

He noticed their backs engraved on them, a tattoo of some sort, seemingly depicting a sword piercing a half moon with two stars on it.

Their slaves had it too, albeit missing the eye-catching stars.

As Mr. Edward took in this macabre scene, a few of the giant men turned to regard him. Their gaze was searing, filled with an unsettling power that sent a shiver down his spine.

Their eyes, glowing with the same crimson light as the guards who had dragged him here, burned with an intensity that far surpassed anything he had witnessed.

Even the guards, who had shown nothing but indifference and contempt, seemed subdued in the presence of these titanic beings, as though they were in the company of nobility or gods.

Mr. Edward, for his part, felt utterly crushed beneath their presence. The oppressive aura that hung over the giants was not just a figment of his imagination.

It was real, thick, and suffocating, pressing down on him with the weight of something ancient and unfathomable.

His body reacted instinctively, muscles tensing as fear gnawed at his gut. He had been curious before, eager to see what lay beyond the hills, but now all he wanted was to escape to flee this place before the aura consumed him entirely.

He was standing in a field of giants, blacksmiths of myth and nightmare, and no amount of curiosity was worth the price of staying.

Unfortunately, his fate was not up to him, and Mr. Edward, fearing the worst, hoped with a pale face.

"I hope I'm not handed over to these creatures."