“Now is the real test.”

Fire burned the chest, consumed it, heat unlike anything possibly imaginable.  Something wells up inside, growing hotter and hotter, filling the lungs like ocean water, squeezing the heart, pressing harder and harder against the ribs until it felt like they were about to burst outward—until it tore away, just as it almost becomes unbearable.  It tore away, all at once, leaving not a scratch, but a physical ache of emptiness and cold behind.  Cold to the bone.  Cold freezing every cell to the very center, shards of ice splintering in the bloodstream and biting into the walls.  Cold like unforgiving winter in the depths of the arctic where things simply stop and time slows.

 Cold.  Empty.  Lifeless.  But not numbed.  Never numbed.

Anyone lesser would have broken.  They almost did.  But there was more to come.

An eternity of cold later, and the pain spread over the face next.  Skin stretched and cracked and split as liquid spread out over the face, burning like wax against the cold, burning like a chilled body touching boiling water.  Needles, heated under the fires of a thousand suns, pierced flesh, drawing thread through, over and over and over again.  Screams would have broken the lips, had the hot liquid not covered every feature, stifling any sounds, suffocating any breath.  Eyes, ears, nose, mouth, all were smothered thoroughly, leaving only touch, in itself taken up by the pain of fire and ice combating against the barriers of the skin.

And then the lips were able to part once more, and a scream of inhuman sound pierced the air, resonating across the void, reflecting off the stars and the ocean of space.  Only when the lungs could support it no more did it peter out, leaving only gasping breaths and a quiet, sinister chuckle.

Weight dragged against the arms, and something constricted the legs.  Dropping the head, they lifted a hand and saw, somehow saw with covered blind eyes that shouldn’t have been able to see anything, a long, ornate sleeve.  White, made of heavy material, with red and gold along the unfathomably wide cuffs.  Golden bangles around the upper arm kept the sleeves in place, when they otherwise failed to connect to any other piece of clothing.  A hand was shaken free, rising to meet the pounding headache, residue from the previous ordeal, only to make contact with strange, hard material.  Like the leather of a soccer ball, only harder, more plastic.

Under more investigation, the material covered the entire face, and spread over the ears and under the chin, to the edges of the neck, where it blended into skin almost seamlessly.  The hair had been pushed back, and seemed to sprout from the material as if it had been flesh, styled into a strange point.  And everything the material covered had become blank, smooth and featureless.  Only slight ridges where the brows had once been stood out.  That, and the split where the mouth formed.

“Wha id yoo do too me?” They asked, stumbling over the words.  The gash in the material spread too far, to the very edges of the face, and the mouth felt full and awkward.

“Gave you power, of course,” a voice said, and they turned to see a woman standing before them, wearing a strange decorative mask of gold and red, sleeves that stretched down to the floor, white, with red and gold stripes along the huge cuffs.  Golden bangles held the sleeves up.  Selfee grinned as a wave of…  Something…  Spread through them and they looked down once more.

“What…  Who…  Am I?”  They asked, looking at their hands, covered as they were by the giant sleeves.

“Interesting, how you would manifest such powers…  So concerned with hiding yourself, and so envious of those around you, of abilities you could never hope to possess on your own…  As if you truly wished to be seen as that other person, or a blank face in the crowd…” Selfee said, curious and taunting, leaning close to examine her handiwork.  “A strong soul, yours, to produce something such as this.”

“I am…  Who…  What have I become?” They asked again.  They were…  Were they Selfee?  But how was this, when Selfee stood in front of them…

“At the cost of a lost identity…  Such a shame!  But perhaps I can make use of you, should you be fully broken.  Some bidders would give anything for a broken toy such as you, paying even more for something they can repair…  Or perhaps repurpose.  Even their own souls!”

Something clicked, and they looked up, brows rising.  The mouth split into a wide, uncomfortable smile.  “No…  I am…  Soul…”

Selfee looked taken aback, but then smiled back.  “I’m sorry, but a soul is the one thing I can guarantee you don’t have,” she said.

“Wrong,” they shook their head.  “I gave you my soul for power…  But now, all I am is Soul.  The body, the face, all else is gone.  All that remains is Soul.  And so Soul I shall be.  What better way to end the reign of the Gods than with the soul of a mortal?”

Shock passed over Selfee’s face, only to clear into a blank, calculated expression.  “Well, that shall be…  Interesting…”  She said.  “But you seem to forget:  I was the one to create you…  I can destroy you just as easily.”

Soul shook their head, slow and cool.  “No.  No, I’m afraid that’s not the case,” they said, climbing to their feet and straightening a green tie that had suddenly appeared at their neck, complete with snazzy red vest and a purple domino mask pushed above the hairline.  “Not this time.”

Quick as a whip, Selfee lashed out, making to grab her creation, but it was in vain.  Soul had escaped with nary a trace, less than a blink of the eye, leaving the God with fists full of empty air.  She looked at her hands, shaken free of their confining sleeves, and a smile spread over her lips.