Herald

Pitch; can't see my hand in front of my face. Arid terrain. I hear my steps scratching the ground. The heat is oppressive. 

When I get to the edge of an abyss, an endless ocean of fire.

At the horizon, a figure dressed in white bids me, "Come."

I walk above the flames. Within, the lost.

The figure in white turns me to see where I had been. A vast crowd walks unfocused to the edge, not noticing until, falling, they scream.

"If you don't tell them, who will?"